Sweet Hatred
Chapter 91: Unsaid Confessions

Chapter 91: Unsaid Confessions

I hesitated. "I guess. Olivia’s not really a fighter. When we were kids, she used to cry when the boys in my class teased me. I didn’t cry though. I just... punched them."

His laugh was low, rough velvet. "Of course you did."

"Well they wouldn’t stop making fun of me," I muttered.

"For what?"

I hesitated again. Didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because it was something I didn’t want to remember. He didn’t push.

But something twisted in my chest. Because here I was, practically wrapped in this man, melting in his kiss, sharing things I didn’t tell just anyone... and I still didn’t know a single damn thing about his past.

So I asked, before I could stop myself. "What about you? Your family?"

Kael was silent.

Then, finally, "You know the basics. Big family. Too many companies. Too many expectations."

"That’s not what I asked."

His lips twitched, a sad little smile. "There’s not much to tell. We weren’t... close. Everything was performance. Appearances. Nothing real."

And then, before I could even think of what to say, he leaned forward and kissed me again—soft and sweet, like punctuation.

Like an escape. I didn’t stop him.

But something inside me ached for the part of him he wasn’t saying.

I dropped the subject.

But I was wondering, silently...

What kind of childhood did Kael Roman survive?

....

The gift was wrapped. The bows were crooked.

And still, we sat there, side by side, like two people who didn’t know what to do with their hands now that there were no excuses left.

Kael was still looking at me — not in that smug, teasing way he usually did — but quietly. Like he was memorizing something he didn’t want to lose.

I felt it.

That ache under my ribs.

That helpless, terrifying tenderness creeping up my spine like a slow, deliberate tide.

I looked away first, focusing way too hard on smoothing a wrinkle out of the wrapping paper.

"Aria," he said, voice low.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not when every nerve ending in my body was aware of how close he was. Of the way the room seemed to get smaller, the air thicker.

His fingers brushed mine. Just a brush that was barely there. But it set off a wildfire under my skin.

I finally looked at him — and I don’t know what I expected to see — but it wasn’t the open, raw expression on his face. Like he didn’t know what he was doing either. Like he was just as lost in whatever this was.

He leaned in slowly, carefully. As if giving me a choice.

And maybe I did have a choice. Maybe I could’ve stopped it.

But when his mouth brushed mine — a ghost of a kiss, barely there — I didn’t pull away. I chased it. I leaned in like a starved woman, desperate for something I didn’t know how to name.

The kiss deepened in seconds and all carefulness was lost. I was in his lap before I even realized it, straddling him, my hands tangled in his shirt like I could anchor myself to him if I just held tight enough.

It wasn’t rough or frantic. No, not at all. It was slow and deliberate.

Each brush of his mouth against mine was a confession neither of us dared to speak out loud. Or maybe that’s what I simply wanted to believe. That slide of his hands down my waist, my hips, my thighs, was a prayer he didn’t know he was saying.

And I kissed him like I hated him for making me feel this way, I kissed him like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning.

And Kael — Kael kissed me back like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted to hold on to.

I felt the moment he shifted —

The way his hands tightened on my hips. The way his mouth dragged down my throat, biting softly at the skin there.

"Kael—" I breathed, trying to pull back, trying to think.

He didn’t let me.

He kissed down my throat, over the slope of my shoulder, his mouth devoted, worshipping.

And then — His fingers found my chin, tilting my face up to him, his gaze burning right through me. "I know we had a feast not quite long ago," he whispered, his lips almost brushing mine, "but I’m still starving Aria."

There was no mistaking it — he wasn’t talking about food. My chest squeezed painfully tight as he leaned in again, kissing me so slowly, so deeply, like he was trying to carve his place into my bones without either of us realizing it.

He tipped me back onto the couch, settling between my thighs so smoothly it made my head spin.

"Kael—" I tried again, heart slamming against my ribs, but my voice broke on a whimper when his mouth found the inside of my thigh instead.

He looked up at me then —His dark eyes glinting under the soft lights. Waiting. Asking.

And I —God help me —I nodded.

One nod was all it took.

He kissed me through my thin shorts, the heat of his mouth making me buck against him without shame. He groaned low in his throat, like he was truly starving for this, like he’d been waiting for me to come undone in his hands.

He peeled the fabric away so slowly, like he didn’t want to rush, like he wanted to savor me.

And when his mouth finally found me — skin to skin — I gasped so loudly it echoed in the room.

Kael feasted on me like he meant it. Like he was savoring every desperate little sound I made. Like he wanted to make me feel so good I’d forget how to hate him.

I swore could feel the emotions in the way he touched me. Not just lust. Not just need.

Something more. Something that scared the hell out of me.

I came hard against his mouth, one hand clutching his hair, the other desperately fisting the cushions, biting down on my lip so I wouldn’t sob his name.

And when he finally looked up at me again, his mouth shiny, his eyes burning —

I knew.

I knew we were both in trouble.

Deep, deep trouble.

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