Page 114 of Hate to Love You
But…I kind of like the pain.
“In fact, when I’m done, turning your little rump as red as a cherry, it might even hurt to sit down later.”
He had given me something to remember him by.
No. I’m not going to go an entire day wincing every time I move, forced to think about him. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of that. Or feeling like he’s won.
I don’t reward bad behavior.
Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I pivot, turning back to my closet, tugging the pants down, and kicking them to the side haphazardly. Roman doesn’t get to dictate what I wear, even if it means I have to fight off his actual dick, as well as my traitorous pussy.
I want to fuck him, but I also hate that I want to fuck him.
So, I won’t.
But, if I can’t, I can still have the thrill of this man wanting me and hating my skirts. Grabbing the shortest skirt I own, I slide it up my legs, fastening it at the side, before grabbing a pair of stockings and suspenders. With how short this skirt is, they are going to be visible every time I move.
Smiling, I giggle knowing this is going to piss Roman off more than anything else I’ve worn.
I intend to flaunt what he can’t have and remind him how good that one time was. By the end of the day, the man will be salivating for me.
Walking over to the mirror, I quickly throw on some eyeshadow, deciding on a smokey eye. After adding my eyeliner, and making sure they are even, I coat my lashes with mascara. Satisfied, I quickly run my fingers through my hair, opting to let my waves cascade down my back.
As I step back, I admire my reflection, noticing how bright my eyes look today.
The truth is, I haven’t felt this alive for a very long time.
With a bounce in my step, I walk down the stairs, before bending down and grabbing a pair of six-inch heels from the shoe rack.
A cough sounds from behind me, glancing over my shoulder I see Trevor, covering his eyes with his hand, and leaning his head back on the couch.
“You know, I’m assuming Mr. Antonov told you that you’re not allowed to look at me, right?” I ask, throwing my hand on my hip.
Trevor says nothing but peeks out from behind his fingers.
“But it’s going to be awfully hard to escort me to the office, if you can’t see,” I grin. “So, in order to make this easier, how about you lower your hand, and this stays between us?”
He pauses a moment, but then slowly, puts his hand back in his lap with a respectful nod.
“I’m just going to grab something to eat then I’m good to go.” I call to him as I walk into the kitchen, hearing footsteps following behind me.
“Miss Wayne, could we get something from Roast?” he says, a note of nervousness in his tone.
Closing the cupboard, I glance at him, as he averts his eyes once again. He runs his hand down the front of his black pants, before quickly looking at me with a small smile.
It’s then that I realize he’s terrified. And as much as I enjoy torturing Roman, I don’t want to torture Trevor in the process, who is innocent.
And fuck, it looks like he’s already been tortured.
“They do have the best Panini’s,” I say, my voice soft.
He nods, before turning and heading toward the door.
As we get to the car, he turns quickly. “There’s a new phone on the back seat for you, from—”
“Mr. Control Freak,” I snort, rolling my eyes as I climb inside, distinctly wincing as my ass touches the seat.
We roll to a stop outside of Roast, which is bustling with customers.