Sweet Hatred
Chapter 175: A wish (Strawberries and Wine)

Chapter 175: A wish (Strawberries and Wine)

Her eyes were barely open, lashes fluttering, lips swollen and kissed raw. I climbed over her, pressing a lazy kiss to her collarbone, then her jaw.

"Hey..." I murmured. "Cake’s here."

She didn’t react.

"Are you still interested...?" I drawled against her ear, my voice a little teasing.

Nothing. Until...

Her lashes lifted. Just barely.

And when I said "cake" again, those tired, lust-drunk eyes opened wider.

She tried to sit up, a tiny effort that nearly made me laugh. I caught her easily, pulling her against me, nuzzling my nose against her temple. "Should I bring it here?" I whispered, kissing the curve of her cheek, the tip of her nose.

She gave the tiniest nod.

I smiled against her lips. "Alright. Stay here, sleepy girl."

I kissed her forehead and grabbed a towel, wrapping it low around my hips. My skin was still warm from her, marked with her nails and lips. I walked out into the sitting area, where a silver trolley had been neatly set with the cake I’d requested, strawberry, complete with wine, two forks, napkins, and even delicate plates. Fancy shit. Fancier than I ever cared for.

But because she wanted it?

I wheeled it all back into the room.

She was still curled in bed when I returned, blankets clutched around her like a sleepy goddess, hair wild, one shoulder peeking out from the mess of sheets. She stirred when she saw me, blinking up at me with the softest little smile. And fuck, she looked so good like that, wrecked, half asleep, still glowing from me.

I hesitated.

Maybe I should just let her sleep.

But then she shifted again and sat up, letting the sheets fall a little, just enough to tease. Her bare legs crossed, her lips pouty and flushed, eyes glowing under the low light of the villa bedroom.

I felt something hard and tender twist inside me.

"The cake’s here," I said softly.

She gave me that look, the one that made time stop and said, "Bring it."

So I did. I wheeled the trolley to the side of the bed, then sat down on the floor beside it, back against the edge of the mattress. She followed me, sliding down gracefully beside me with the blanket still loosely wrapped around her body like it was stitched from heaven itself. She picked up the cake with both hands and glanced at me.

"No candle," I said, almost apologetically.

She shook her head, smirking. "Doesn’t matter. You can still make a wish."

I raised a brow. "You’re serious?"

Her smile turned smug. "Close your eyes, Roman. It’s still your birthday for—" She checked the clock. "ten more minute."

11:50 p.m.

I looked at her. Really looked.

Her eyes danced in the dim lighting, that gentle pink hue from the cake reflecting off her cheeks. She looked radiant. Ethereal. Like she wasn’t real, and if I blinked too long, she’d disappear.

So I closed my eyes.

And I wished.

I wished I could love her out loud. I wished I didn’t have to worry about who would take her from me, or how I might fuck this all up. I wished she could be mine forever. Just mine. Like this moment could last, and I’d never need anything else again.

I opened my eyes.

She was still there.

Holding the cake. Smiling.

She picked up the knife and cut a small piece, lifting it to my lips.

"Come on, birthday boy."

I stared at it. "I don’t like sweet things."

She narrowed her eyes and raised the fork closer. "Kael."

"My bad, ma’am," I murmured, lips twitching. "I’ll eat it now."

I leaned in and took the bite from the fork, eyes never leaving hers.

It was sweet. Too sweet.

But not nearly as sweet as her.

Aria reached for the knife again, cutting a dainty little slice for herself with sleepy fingers, but before she could even lift it off the plate, I caught her wrist in a soft grip pulling her into to my lap.

"Let me," I murmured, already taking the fork from her and gently gathering a small bite. "You’ve done enough tonight, don’t you think?"

She blinked up at me, her lashes fluttering like a lazy butterfly, lips parting just slightly as she leaned forward to take the bite. The moment the cake touched her tongue, her eyes lit up. She chewed slowly, adorably, like she was discovering the secrets of the universe in that one little piece of strawberry-flavored heaven.

I bit back a smile.

"You look like a rabbit," I said under my breath, watching the way her nose crinkled, the way her mouth moved as she savored it.

She made a little sound of satisfaction but winced halfway through swallowing, her fingers brushing her abdomen.

I immediately leaned in, reaching out to wipe a smudge of frosting at the corner of her lips. "Hey—what’s wrong?"

She pouted, rubbing at her neck. "I don’t know what I’m thinking every time I let you fuck me like a touch-starved man."

I chuckled low, that husky, post-sex rasp still thick in my voice. "That’s on you, woman. I tried to behave."

"No you didn’t," she muttered.

I shrugged. "Okay, I didn’t. But can you blame me? You felt too damn good to stop. You always do."

My thumb traced her lower lip, slow and warm, and I felt her breath hitch just a little. She leaned into me with a half-hearted glare that melted too fast to count.

"I should sue you for damages," she mumbled.

I smirked, lifting the bottle of wine and popping it open like it was a reward. "Let me offer you a settlement."

I took a long sip, then passed it to her. She tilted her head back and drank, lips glistening and throat working, and when she settled again, flush-faced, legs tangled around my waist, she looked up at me with that look. The one that made me feel both invincible and completely undone.

"What did you wish for earlier?" she asked softly, running her fingers along my jaw, tracing the edge of my jaw when I didn’t smile.

I looked at her for a long second. A beat. A breath.

And then, right there with her straddling me in a messy tangle of sheets, lips tasting like strawberries and wine, my heart breaking just a little from how much I wanted to say it...

But I kissed her instead. Pulled her closer. Tucked her into my arms and whispered, "I love you." In my mind.

Even if I couldn’t say it out loud yet, my body already had. Over and over again.

Aria giggled softly, that breathy sound ghosting over my shoulder as she curled deeper into my lap. "You didn’t answer me, birthday boy," she whispered, nudging my nose with hers, still cradling the wine bottle between her fingers.

I tilted my head, brushing my thumb across her jaw. "And ruin the magic?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Lame excuse. I thought I had you."

"You had me," I murmured, my voice low, almost too honest. "You always do."

She flushed at that, her face turning this soft pink under the dim glow of the bedside lamp. God, I loved that color on her. She took another sip from the bottle, then sighed. "It’s not my birthday yet... but if I could make a wish for you, I’d wish that you got everything your heart ever wanted. Every single thing."

I stared at her like she’d held the key to eternal salvation. Her legs were still straddling me, her skin warm and pressed against mine, and her voice, Jesus, her voice. It wrapped around every jagged part of me like velvet, like warmth, like something I wasn’t sure I deserved.

"You deserve it," she added, more quietly this time. "After everything you’ve been through."

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. "You didn’t have it easy either."

"Yeah, but I was loved," she said. "I had my mom, Kaleb, my sister... even if things sucked sometimes, I had people to come home to." She leaned her forehead against mine, gentle, grounding. "You didn’t. You had no one. Not even your blood. The two people you had were cruelly taken from you too. I think I would’ve lost my mind if I lived like that."

I closed my eyes.

I did lose my mind, I thought. When I buried my mom. When I saw her replaced less than a half a month. When I buried Ivan. When I buried myself with him.

But I didn’t say that.

She was looking at me like I was still whole. Like I wasn’t this hollowed-out thing stitched back together with silence and violence and grief. Like I was worth something.

"I just..." she looked away for a second, then back at me, those eyes cutting right through my ribs. "I wish you’d find love again. I want you to feel what it’s like. How the world changes colors even when you’re still stuck in the dark. How someone’s laugh can feel like sunlight. How their touch makes you feel safe and wanted and..."

I couldn’t breathe.

I looked at her really looked at her and it took everything in me not to pull her closer and say I already did. It’s you. It’s always been you. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not yet. Not with every truth in my family sharpened like a blade, not when saying it out loud might cut us both open.

So instead, I lifted her chin and kissed her again, slow and deep, aching with everything I didn’t know how to say.

When I pulled away, she blinked up at me, dreamy and dazed.

"Wow this is really good cake," she whispered.

I chuckled. "I know."

"Also, wine makes you hot."

"You think I need wine for that?" I teased, brushing my knuckles down her bare spine.

She chuckled again, curling into my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her—holding her like a secret, like a prayer, like a promise I didn’t know how to keep but would die trying to.

And as the clock struck midnight, I made another silent wish:

Please let me have her. Just a little longer. Just until I can say it out loud.