I Hate You, Mr. Boss-Man [18+]

015

The bed is colder-empty-when I come to. I reach out, trying to find warmth but as soon as I realize I'm alone, my eyes open. The pillow to my left is indented with the weight of his head but, he's not there.

My body is sore, selected areas throbbing with a dull pain but...tolerable. I sit up, holding the silk sheets against my chest as I try to stretch, my eyes finding the discarded clothing scattered on the floor. I groan softly, feeling an ache-a throb between my thighs. Were we really that rough? Still grasping the silk, I swing my calves off the bed, my legs wobbling as I rose to my feet. Well, that answered the question. Carefully, I crouch down, reaching for my panties before tossing the sheet back onto the bed-feeding them through my legs as I try to hold my balance.

I grab the next shirt I see, which happened to be the black shirt Jesse wore the night before. Slipping it over my head, I feed my arms through the sleeves-the hem undulating down to the middle of my thighs. I hiss, accidentally brushing against my neck as I go to pull my hair out of my shirt. It must've been from last night. My bare feet pad against the hardwood flooring, my hand extending to the handle, swinging the door open and head through.

There were two things I hated most in this world, number one: People who swore they hated Taylor Swift-As if you could hate her, she helped me through my break up with Jacob, spending endless weeks, months maybe? Blasting Red throughout my first semester in college. The second thing? The confrontation was a real pain in the ass. I did my best to avoid situations like that but, my life was an endless cycle of confrontation.

I kept to the wall, forgetting for a minute that Jesse's stairs didn't have a railing. Did he ever fall on these? Ever forget the railing wasn't there and tumbled to the ground? Jogging down the last few, I turn into the kitchen, Jesse's bareback on full display and the first thing that catches my gaze is the angry crimson scratches extending from his shoulders, curving around his waist.

My face burns in embarrassment, flashes of last night popping into my head. I gave him those scratches. "Hey," I mumble, sliding into one of the stools tucked under the island.

"Morning, killer," He chimes, clicking off the burner before turning to me-a devilish grin spread out on his face as he sets a steaming plate of bacon down.

Maybe this was a momentary lapse for him...for me? Maybe last night meant nothing, a hook-up, a screw, two people who had a wild craving for each other at the moment and decided to indulge? I didn't-couldn't-know what he was feeling or if he felt the same way. Did he regret it...did I?

"You okay?" He asks the grin slowly fading, his forehead etching with concern. "You look spooked,"

"Hmm?" I shake my head, letting myself flash him a smile. "I'm fine," I lie, looking over the counter to see what was on the other plates. "What'd you make?" I definitely worked up an appetite, from skipping dinner to burning more calories upstairs, I was starving.

"Nothing too extravagant," He shrugs, eyes focused on the plate as he grabs it to set it in front of me. "For you."

Nothing too extravagant my ass. I shake my head at him, dragging the plate closer before giving him a flat expression. "Since when are waffles with berries, eggs, and bacon not extravagant?" I mock, finger quoting what he had said.

"Hmph," He voices, smiling once again. "Excuse my modesty, sweetheart,"

There it was again, that damn nickname he had coined just for me. Although it was just a word, it drove me crazy. Breaking eye contact, my eyes shift down to my plate, mumbling thank you as I pick up a slice of bacon. Before I could take a bite, his fingers graze my neck as he moves my hair to one side, softly placing his lips against my neck. I lean into him, putting the bacon back down, my eyes drifting shut at the feel of him, and suddenly, I snap out of it. "Stop...Stop!" I exclaim, sliding off the stool, turning on my heel to look at him.