LET ME HATE YOU

Punishment

Such a soft pillow, Amaan sighs in his sleep.

He clutched it tighter and rubbed his face over it in contentment. It was different today, soft and smoother than any of the pillows he had. And then it beat.

Beat?

He frowned in his sleep, and soon the beating turned profound like a heartbeat. He pulled the pillow closer just to confirm if the beating was coming from it. Even in his sleep, his mind was vigilant of unusual pillows. The moment he pulled it closer, he heard a moan.

His eyes snapped in realization, and what welcomed him was the sight of hair—a woman's hair. He raised his eyes to see Asmaira sleeping peacefully. His gaze dropped down to realize he was sleeping on her chest, and what he heard in his sleep was her heartbeat. His mind went blank.

Why was he sleeping on her chest?

He tried to move; however, her head lay on his left arm while he was holding her by the waist with his right one—like a pillow. She stirred in her sleep, which caused her to turn toward him. When the slow breeze brushed, the loose strand of hair grazed her swollen lips.

Unconsciously, he bites his lips, raking his eyes over her swollen lips to the hickeys marring her pale skin. The sight of her lying naked in his embrace knocked the breath out of him. He could feel his morning wood rubbing between her legs, and that only made him want to taste her again. He would have worked on his thoughts if not for a phone call.

Amaan blinked. Once, twice. It took him two heartbeats to come out of his trance and register the state he was in with her. Calming down his torrential emotions, he slipped out of bed and put on his pants that had been lying on the floor. He was still staring at the mess he had created with the clothes when his phone rang again.

He answered the call and immediately felt something was off when Ross questioned, "Are you okay?"

"What would happen to me?" Amaan asked, still gathering himself, when what Ross told next made me freeze in his place.

"Listen, I think, I think the drink you had yesterday was spiked."

"What?!" his eyes immediately fell on Asmaira.

Is that why I lost control last night?

"I can't confirm. I saw boys placing a bet and motioning to the bartender. My hunch was that there was something in that drink. And before I knew it, you already chugged it and left. I have been trying to call you last night, and when you didn't answer, I thought something might have happened."

"Are you fucking me, Ross? Spiking a drink?" Amaan said, gritting his teeth.

His emotions have been unhinged for the past few days, but he never felt the thirst that he felt last night. His stare dint waver from asmaira, and soon unease settled in his guts.

Please stop.

No.

Asmaira's pleas from the previous night only cemented what he didn't want to believe. Her cries, her reluctance to make eye contact. Did he force himself on her? Was she scared and couldn't stop?

"Come down to the hospital. Better to get it tested," Ross's assurance broke his thoughts.

"Will that change last night?" Amaan whispered to himself, averting his gaze from Asmaira and shutting it.

"What do you mean? Did you—" Amaan disconnected the call.

"Fuck!" he gritted his teeth and squatted.

He knew his hunger. He knew that behind the poise and control he maintained, there was his alter ego—a predator. It was evident how crazy he was for Raina, and once she was gone, that part of his alter ego died. Until now, he was proud he was man enough to never lust for any other woman or worse, force himself. However, last night broke his delusion. And the worst part was even knowing it was wrong to lust for his small wife, that predator inside him was hungrier and hornier than ever. Provoking him to have her again.