Hate to Love You - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Tristan
I woke up to something tickling my nose, annoying the hell out of me. I groaned and turned my face into the pillow, rubbing my nose against the soft fabric to help alleviate the itch. Once the itch subsided, I grunted and tightened my hold around the warm body, pulling her closer.
A wave of strawberries and vanilla washed over me, and I couldn't resist burying my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. God, she always smelled fucking incredible.
Gently, I pressed my lips against the sensitive area behind her ear, feeling the delicate pulse beneath. A shiver ran through her, followed by a quiet, breathy moan. A small smile curved my lips as I felt her body respond to my touch.
As long as she didn't start hurling insults at me again, we were good. This was definitely one of the better dreams I'd had of her.
I traced a path of light kisses down her neck, savoring the warm silk beneath my lips. My right hand palmed a handful of warm, supple flesh, a hard nipple poking into the center of my palm. Squeezing gently, I smirked, my eyes still closed as I enjoyed the soft weight in my hands.
I knew when I had a pair of tits in my hands. And these were nice tits — not very big, but a decent handful.
Still cupping her breast, I pulled her even closer as my body began to wake up. I pressed her ass into me, the soft curves of her backside molding to my hips. I couldn't help but give a small thrust.
My eyes nearly rolled back into my head when she arched her back and wiggled her ass into me, grinding and rubbing against my cock. I placed my hand on her hip so that I could guide and control her movements, pulling her back into my small thrusts. Back and forth, I rocked her hips, my breathing picking up as all of the blood in my body traveled down.
Fuck. This felt so good. Too good to just be a dream, but there was no way this wasn't a dream. She'd never let me do any of this if it were real.
I needed to kiss her. Each time, she denied me, and each time, I was left mad with the need to finally taste her. Maybe this time would be different, I foolishly told myself.
"Babe, I need you to turn over." My voice came out as a low rumble, thick with sleep and arousal.
"Hmm?" She gave a sleepy moan, and my dick jerked in response.
I pressed my lips against her exposed shoulder, rubbing gently. With my chin resting there, my eyes slowly slid open, and I took a moment to lazily admire her.
Her eyes were closed, shielding those hypnotizing blues from me, and her golden hair cascaded across the pillow, framing her face like a halo. Light streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, and the strands seemed to glow in the soft rays. My fingers itched to touch them, to feel their softness. To fist them as I fucked her seven days to Sunday.
This was real, wasn't it?
Even in my dreams, she hadn't been this beautiful — this warm and real.
It took me a moment to register that she was actually in my arms. Then it all came back — she'd fallen asleep pretty early during the movie, and maybe it was the exhausting week I'd had, but eventually, I gave in and joined her when I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.
In that hazy, dreamlike state between sleep and wakefulness, my mind replayed our past encounters — the arguments, the threats, the mutual disdain.
But as I held her close, her feminine form pressed against me, all of that felt insignificant. My need to touch her outweighed any grudges or animosity I may have held towards her. I was willing to let go of the past, willing to embrace the possibilities of the present, if it meant I could have her, right here and now.
Her long eyelashes fluttered as she stirred, a soft sigh escaping her full, parted lips. She yawned, blinking as her bleary eyes adjusted to the dim light. Slowly, her head turned toward me, and our eyes locked. I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face at her puzzled expression. Loosening my grip on her, I shifted into a push-up position, hovering above her. We stared at each other in silence for a full minute, the tension palpable.
"Hey," I murmured, rubbing a strand of her hair between my thumb and forefinger.
"This isn't just some bad dream, is it?" Her voice was strained, the anger beginning to seep into her words.
This wasn't going to end the way I wanted, was it?
"No... but it could be a good dream, if you want?" I teased, playfully brushing my nose against hers. She didn't respond, only gave me a deadpan stare.
"Get off of me before I make sure you never have any kids. My knee is at the perfect height right now."
Yeah. I wasn't getting laid this morning. With a groan, I rolled to the side, bouncing on the mattress as I fell onto my back. Almost wishing this was a dream, I ran a hand through my messy hair and let out a disappointed sigh, staring up at the ceiling. My dick was still throbbing and trying to tear through the front of my pants, a painful reminder that I wasn't gonna get any relief.
"You have three seconds to explain why you're still here and another three seconds to leave." She sat up, scooting as far away from me as she could while leveling me with an accusatory look.
Deciding not to pay her any mind, I tucked my hands behind my head and crossed my ankles. I looked completely at ease — minus the huge tent in my pants. It was kinda funny looking actually. Especially when her eyes kept darting to it.
"You fell asleep somewhere between the alien invasion and the destruction of Mars. Unfortunately, you did miss a banger sex scene between one of the main dudes and some alien babe." I chuckled, remembering said scene with fondness.
"Ugh," she groaned and climbed off the end of the bed. "Is sex the only thing you ever think about?"
"Pretty much — hey, what are you doing!" I yelled as she grabbed onto my leg and started pulling. She never actually did anything, but I was still caught off guard.
"I'm trying to get you out of my room because you won't leave on your own. Why are you so fat!" she grunted as she tugged at my leg with all her strength.
I gasped. "I'm not fat! This is muscle. Pure fucking muscle, Lady. I'm probably the hottest guy you've ever slept with."
"Don't say it like that!" she yelled.
She tried several more times to pull me off before giving up with an angry huff. Putting her hands on her hips, she glared down at me. She looked flustered from the small workout, face and neck red — and she had a major case of bedhair. She'd never looked hotter, which wasn't helping with the unsatisfied morning wood.
"You never answered why you're still here. Weren't you going to leave with your buddies? What happened to that plan?" she demanded to know.
"They must have thought I found a way home because they left without me."
"And you didn't think to phone them and tell them otherwise?"
I shrugged. "My phone's downstairs somewhere. I didn't exactly wanna go back there in case I bumped into one of your weird roommates—"
"—How are they weird?—"
"—and I thought there would be no harm if I just crashed with you for one night? And they are weird. They all kept staring at me and one of them kept touching my secret place."
"Your 'secret place'? What are you — five? Can you get off my bed already?"
"Fine. She kept trying to touch my dick. Happy?"
"Not particularly, considering you were trying to touch me with your 'secret place' this morning." She used bunny ears when she said 'secret place', mocking me.
"Now who's five? And I wasn't the only one, you were pushing your ass all up against my—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence or I'll maim you." She pointed a finger at me in warning. "Just get up and leave so that we can both agree never to bring this up again. What was I even thinking letting you come in here?"
"You're really stuck on that forgetting about each other thing, huh? You do realize that gets harder to do every time we run into each other, right?" I asked as I sat up and placed my feet on the ground.
"No, you just insist on making it harder."
As soon as I was standing she was behind me, hands planted on my back as she began pushing me toward the door. I leaned back into her hands, giving her some resistance even as I let her direct me.
"God, you're so heavy!" she mumbled under her breath.
"Do you make it a habit of fat-shaming people?" I crossed my arms and raised my brow, still slowly being pushed to her door.
"Only my enemies," she grunted.
"Oh? So we're enemies? Interesting."
She paused her endeavors to ask me, "What did you think we were?"
"I don't know. I was starting to feel the flowering petals of an unlikely friendship beginning to blossom between us."
"Ew. Don't ever say that again." She resumed pushing me.
"You're right. That did feel wrong to say. Did I just use a flower metaphor? What is happening to me?" I shook my head in disbelief.
"Whatever it is, it can happen outside of my room." She sounded out of breath.
"Seriously, Lady, you're starting to hurt my feelings."
"Cry me a river. Now get out," she growled.
"That's actually a really good song. I feel like it's overlooked and memed a lot when all it really deserves is recognition for how... beautiful it is. Don't you agree?" I looked behind me, seeking her agreement.
She scowled at me. "No."
I sighed in disappointment. There was no getting through to her. And she had terrible taste in music. I'm not saying all of Justin Timberlake's songs were great, because they weren't — only that 'cry me a river' was an underrated masterpiece.
We made it to her door, and she reached around me to grab the handle, yanking it open with such force that my nose felt the wind of it. Just as she was about to shove me out, a girl's voice rang out, interrupting our little escapade.
"Molly, have you seen my curling iron? You had it last!"
No-Hoodie-girl panicked and slammed the door closed, again, missing my face by a mere inch.
"Problem?" I asked, blinking innocently.
"They can't know you spent the night in my room," she whispered, clearly freaked out by the prospect of them discovering us.
"Okay. Then I'll just sneak out. But I need to grab my phone to call one of my friends to come get me and it's downstairs somewhere," I whispered back.
"Oh God." She sounded like she was going to be sick.