I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 152

Chapter 152

Atlax POV

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I woke up feeling like someone had flipped a switch in my chest Best damn feeling I’d had in years. Grinning like an idiot before my eyes even fully opened. No guessing required….it was all her. Emery…my Beautiful Emery.

Her scent, rosy mixed with lilac was everywhere, wrapping around me like she’d always belonged in my bed… The heat of her body curled into mine, legs still slung around my waist like she’d claimed the spot for the night and had zero intention of giving it up. Her wild sleeping habits twisting, kicking, then ging herself right back to me, should’ve been annoying. Instead I was fucking addicted. I wanted to freeze this exact second and live in it forever.

We hadn’t kissed. Hadn’t crossed that line into sex. And somehow this, her breath fanning my neck, her heartbeat steady against my ribs, felt a thousand times more intimate.

“I can feel your dick pressed on me,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep, face still half-buried in my chest.

My grin stretched wider. “Morning wood, darling. Biology.”

She let out a sleepy snort, lips curving even though her eyes were still closed. “Yeah, right.”

I tilted my head so I could see her better. Those green eyes finally fluttered open, and damn today they looked brighter, like someone turned up the saturation. Clearer. Happier.

“Morning,” I said, voice low.

“Morning,” she echoed, a tiny smile tugging at her mouth.

“You sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” She yawned, then slowly unwound her legs from my waist.

My hands flexed instinctively, fingers curling into fists to stop myself from grabbing her thighs and pulling them right back where they belonged. I forced myself to stay still.

“Now that,” I said, voice low, “I love to hear.”

She yawned again, rolling her shoulders, hair a mess, sheets coming down revealing her beautiful smooth thigh…I had to look away for a second or I was gonna lose it.

Okay, fine…nerd moment incoming.

Morning erections are mostly involuntary. Nocturnal penile tumescence. Happens during REM sleep, multiple times a night, part of the body’s way of oxygenating erectile tissue, keeping everything… functional. Textbook biology. But let’s be real: ninety percent (ninety nine) of this one was because of her. The way she smelled, the soft weight of her against me, the little hum she made in her sleep when she shifted closer. If I kept staring at her stretch like that, picturing sliding my hands under that shirt, mapping every inch of skin with my mouth…I was gonna embarrass myself and come in my boxers like a

teenager.

So I cleared my throat, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stood up

fast.

Her gaze tracked me immediately. Down. Then wider. A flush crawled up her neck and settled in her cheeks when she clocked the very obvious tent in my boxers.

I smirked, raising one eyebrow. “Eyes up here, darling.”

She dragged her stare back to my face, lips curling into a slow, wicked little smile. “Well, not my fault your boxers do literally nothing to hide the evidence.”

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a and throught my messy hair. “Par. Guess I better go handle this evidence before you get too

A cowright, muschievous. “Need a helping hand?

bed as time, like it was screaming yes in all caps and throwing itself against my self-control.

because refused to let her see how close she was to wrecking me.

Oval Collinsiid, voice dropping a notch as I leaned in just a little. “You start something you can’t finish, and I’m not

Besque captured curing like she liked that way too much

Tins Whatever the hell this was flirting, teasing, daring each other to fall first, I loved it bad…I loved that she felt de again. That she was smiling like the world hadn’t tried to scare her last night. Like we were sliding back into that

hunted my hand and ruled her hair, messy on purpose, because I couldn’t resist.

“Hey,” she priced, seating at my hand, but her sunile was still there as she tried fixing the damage like her hair wasn’t

os fond the coussing.

Z nasze zway with a grin. Fil be back.”

Sering She dragged our rolling her eyes, but the smile on her lips gave her away.

shasing my head, my grin refusing to leave my face as I turned toward my room.

kevad suumeranda full recitanon of random NHL stats got me through without embarrassing myself. Anything to drown dad de massai repidy of Luery’s need a helping hand line on endless loop.

name i gus dressed, black shirt, gray sweats. I felt like a human again. Not a feral idiot who almost ruined a perfectly Luboming of gesing we turned on to function

Of my room and froze.

POROUS Veiled insene

QUE, ONIZER CHUamon, the kind of smell that make you feel safe and hungry and a little emotional for no

parable mie de quien, And there she was.

the strings tied around her waist. She moved around my kitchen like she belonged nesking the oven, hunding softly under her breath like this was her home.

12:01 Fri, Feb 27 AMC

Chapter 152

My chest did something stupid.

I really wished it was.

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She didn’t know I was there, and for a second I just… watched. Quiet. Greedy. Taking her in without having to pretend I

wasn’t.

The way she leaned forward to check something. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear with flour on her fingers. The way she bit her lip like she was concentrating.

I checked the time in my head.

Five seconds.

Then ten.

Then… yeah, okay. More like fifteen minutes. I was down bad sume.

She turned suddenly, and her eyes widened when she caught me standing there like some creep in his own kitchen.

“Oh.” She blinked. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing casual into my voice. I shrugged like I hadn’t been silently admiring her like she was a painting in a museum. “Just got here.”

I grabbed an apple off the counter, took a bite, and slid onto one of the stools at the island like this was casual. Like my heart wasn’t doing laps. Like every part of me wasn’t screaming to walk up to her and kiss her bad.

She glanced at me, then went right back to what she was doing, all focused and bossy in my apron.

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m making my little secret recipe pie She pointed a wooden spoon at me like it was a warning. “The one that has people practically dying for more.”

I lifted my brows, chewing slowly. “Dying, huh?”

“Yes,” she said seriously. “Like full-on dramatic. Like ‘Emery, please, I’ll never ask you for anything again.””

I couldn’t help it, my mouth tugged into a grin. I leaned my chin into my hand, elbow on the counter, watching her with a look I didn’t even try to hide.

“Well,” I said, voice low, “I guess I’m that special, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

I smirked. “Too late.”

She scoffed, grabbing a dish towel and flicking it lightly in my direction. “I’m just repaying the favor.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, dragging out the word. “Sure.”

Because the pink on her cheeks said otherwise. And so did the way she avoided looking at me for too long. She turned back

to the oven, slid the pie in, and shut the door with a little flourish like she was proud of herself.

Then she dusted her hands off and faced me like a chef presenting her masterpiece.

“Now we wait.”

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