He Hates Me (Hate & Love Duet 1)

But Jasper's the perfect gentleman. He keeps silently comforting me with light, sweet touches, and I keep blushing every time I accidentally brush my fingers against his growing bulge. I made him hard. I did that. I made his cock swell with need and desire, and the mere thought turns me on so much I'm nearly panting. I swallow my gasps, but it's hopeless – by the end of the movie, I don't even pretend to know what happened on the screen.

As the credits roll, Jasper lets go of my hand and I self-consciously pull it back. He doesn't say a word as the lights come on, and I put on my jacket, following him out of the cinema and wondering whether he'll address what happened in there.

He doesn't.

I hide my disappointment as we walk to a restaurant a block away from the movie theater. He talks about the movie, but I don't really participate in the conversation. I don't get him. Why try and comfort me only to pretend as if nothing happened at all?

"So, you like to punish yourself, don't you?"

I look at Jasper, the faint hint of a smile still playing on his lips. "Why are you asking me that?"

"You picked the movie. A horror movie, even though you spent most of the time watching it through your fingers. You were scared."

"So?" I'm instantly defensive.

"So, why do it if you don't actually enjoy it?" He taunts me with his smirk. "I think you're a glutton for self-punishment, Georgina."

My heart skips a beat every time he uses my full name, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I refuse to answer, glaring at the floor. When I still went to see my therapist, this was her opinion, too – that I liked to hurt myself.

I'd spent years self-harming, but now my poison of choice was horror flicks. I'd binge watch them at home, forcing myself to sit through the most graphic scenes with my heart pounding and my head filled with terrible ideas of what could happen to me. Of course, this was something my therapist dug out of me after years of sessions.

It only took Jasper one date.

The hostess in the restaurant guides us to a romantic table for two. The setting is perfect, with a single red rose in a vase on the table, and a candle burning next to it. It's romantic, sweet and fills me with hope... hope that Jasper puts out with every second we spend at the table.

He doesn't speak much. We order our food and after that, he spends an eternity just staring at me while I fumble with my cloth napkin. I fold it over my lap at least four times until I've finally had enough of his prying eyes devouring me.

We eat our appetizers and he still doesn't say a word. Just keeps staring at me with those cool eyes while he devours his food like a wolf.

"Okay, what's your deal?" I finally ask, putting down my fork and glaring at my date over the table. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Like what?" He takes a sip of wine, never taking his eyes off me.

"Like you're... ugh, forget it." I stab at my salad and keep glaring at him. "It's unnerving. Do you do this to everyone?"

"No," he replies easily. "Just to people who hate it."

"Great." I eat a cherry tomato and shoot daggers at him with my eyes. "I guess I should be honored, then."

"Definitely."

I put my fork down and cross my arms. "I don't get you."

"Not many people do."

"It bothers me."

"Join the club." He winks at me and downs his glass of wine. "Enjoying the date, are you?"

"No," I hiss. "I don't get why we're even here. I don't get why you're acting so hot and cold. Why even go out with me if you're not interested?"

"Oh, I'm interested." He puts his cutlery down on the plate, never taking his eyes off mine as the waiter takes away our empty dishes. "I'm very interested, Georgina."

"Doesn't seem like it," I mutter. "Can you answer one question for me?"

"Depends what it is." His eyes get darker, filled with delicious intent, but it only makes me more upset. I want to know more about him, but I'm getting annoyed by his attitude.

"Why are you with me?" I demand, ready to wrap this night and go back to my safety.9JasperWhy are you with me?

Her question floats around us like a promise, unhinged and out of control.

My little Petal has a problem in keeping things in her thoughts. She’s been restless the entire night, stopping herself time and again from asking me that question.

She doesn’t believe I would be interested in her, or perhaps she doesn’t believe this entire situation. She couldn’t have suspected me, considering she was never aware of me following her about.