I Hate You Read online Ilsa Madden-Mills (The Hook Up #3)

Categories Genre: College, Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance, Sports, Young Adult Tags Authors: Series: The Hook Up Series by Ilsa Madden-Mills
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
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Silence fills up the room as we breathe heavily and ease away from each other slowly. I reach the bed and pull myself up. I keep my face averted, processing.

He…I…that was…hot.

Why haven’t I ever done that?

Because I never wanted to before, but with him…

When I turn around, he’s zipping up his jeans, his shoulders hunched as he seems to gather himself.

He never even took his shirt off, I realize, and here I am in nothing but a bra under my breasts.

Reaching over to the nightstand, I grab a tissue and wipe my mouth. Fixing my bra, my fingers feel useless, still in some kind of afterglow as I straighten up and stand. I snatch my underwear and slide them on then grab a blanket from the bed and drape it around me.

He’s just watching, and I chew on my lips.

What’s next?

Weirdness, that’s what.

“Thank you for seeing me home,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I feel a slow blush rising on my cheeks. “That was lame,” I say.

He’s got those heavy eyes on me, assessing me, thinking.

Shit, what is he thinking?

I clear my throat. “Are you leaving?” It’s what I did to him. I pulled myself together those times we were together, said goodbye, and left. He didn’t seem to care. He told me bye and see you later. I clearly remember, because I wanted him to say more, especially that last night we were together. I suspect my heart was right there on my face.

He stalks over to me and lifts my face up. “I should go.”

“You should. It’s very late, practically dinner time.”

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, playing with a piece of my hair.

“Then stay.”

“What will we do?”

If I was a good girl, I’d say hang out and watch TV, maybe eat, but—

“What will we do?” he repeats, his eyes on me.

“Whatever you want,” I whisper.

He licks his lips. “The next time I come, I want it to be inside you, Charm. I want to be deep in your pussy. Tell me to go, say the words, because I can’t leave until you do. I can’t.” His eyes are dark, his chest still, as if he’s barely in control. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Air whooshes out of me.

I want his heart, yet he doesn’t want me like that.

Still, we both want to lose ourselves in this, whatever it is. It’s the language we both know.

For this moment, it’s enough. I know I’ll regret it later, but rational thought left me the moment he sang “In Your Eyes” to me.

“Stay.”

17

“You sure?” he asks quietly. We study each other, reserve on his face, almost fear.

I nod my head.

His voice is gruff. “I’m going to go sit on the couch. You’re going to put on a skirt and find me. You feel me?”

I know exactly what he’s referring to—our sexting convo—and it makes my chest rise in anticipation.

His gaze burns. “Wear some of your big heels.”

He turns and stalks out of my bedroom, and I stand there for a moment. This isn’t like before when we had sex, where I felt a semblance of control. No, this is him being alpha, his ideas, and it doesn’t freak me out like it should. In fact, I run to my dresser and yank out fresh lacy underwear and a black mini skirt that’s too short for public wear. I adjust my bra again, pushing the girls up, grab some four-inch red heels, and shove my feet in them.

I walk into the den, and he’s sprawled back on the couch, fully dressed. He’s hooked my phone up to a speaker and “With or Without You” blares, the lyrics reminding me of the pain of wanting him.

A quick glance tells me the window blinds are open with a clear view of the house across the street plus the parking spot where his truck is.

His muscled legs are apart, blue eyes running over me, lingering on the shoes before coming back to my face. “Hey.”

Just that one husky word and I’m wet, juices already pooling.

“How can you be hard again?” I flick my eyes over the tent in his jeans.

“I’m twenty-one and horny as fuck.” He rubs his crotch and squeezes. “Been missing you.”

I let out a shaky breath. God, what are we doing?

“Get in my lap.”

He takes my hand and pulls me closer.

I suck in a breath and situate myself as I straddle him, my hands going in his hair. Wavy and dark, it’s soft and silky under my touch, and I tug, playing with the highlighted parts, scraping my nails over his scalp.

He closes his eyes and grabs the sides of my legs, moving slowly up my thighs, going under the skirt. He grips my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. He looks down at the tops of my thighs, the hint of lace peeking out from my skirt. “I can see why you like this. Grind on me, baby.”


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