“I want to hate you so much,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Why can’t I hate you? Instead, all I want to do is sink my cock deep into your pussy and stay there forever. I can’t stop wanting you.”

I moan when he slides a second finger into my snug slickness. He fingers me slowly, his labored breath harsh in my ear. His body is tense and full of anger, yet he still physically wants me. Even after everything.

There might be a tiny sliver of hope.

I desperately clutch onto that hope and pray that I’m right.

Sam deserves to know how I feel. I have to tell him.

He suddenly removes his hand and I murmur in protest.

“If I turn your hands loose, are you going to run?” he asks huskily.

Run?

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.

He drops my wrists and slides his hands down my sides, pulling my ass tight against the hard erection straining against his jeans. I brace myself against the wall with my arms, not knowing what is going through his mind or what he is going to do next.

Whatever it is, I’m not stopping him.

“Do you know what I’ve been doing?” he asks. “Begging for your life. I begged and pleaded with my brothers to keep you alive and breathing because I can’t bear the thought of a life without you in it. And now I need to hear you beg for me. I need to hear you say that you want me as much as I need you.”

The sting of betrayal is raw in his voice.

My heart is breaking for him and for me.

If he only knew what I am willing to do for him.

“Tell me that I didn’t imagine what we had together,” he says. “I know you felt it too.”

He grabs my shorts and slides them down to my ankles along with my panties. I quickly step out of them. Grabbing the bottom of my shirt, he rips it off over my head along with my sports bra.

Suddenly I’m deeply afraid that I’ve misread his actions.

“Is this a hate fuck?” I whisper, terrified to hear his answer.

“God no,” he says, kissing a line down my neck and along my shoulder. “Never.” He wraps his hand around my hair and pulls my head to the side so he can nibble on my ear.

I let out the shaky breath I’d been holding.

“Lean over,” he says, putting his hand on the small of my back and positioning me lower.