I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 168

Chapter 168

Emery’s POV

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I’m fine. Yeah. No. That’s the biggest lie I’ve told all week, and considering my life lately, that is saying something. I am not fine. I am nowhere near fine. I am, in fact, one bad decision away from fully losing my mind because I have been stuck in Atlas’s closet for the PAST FIFTEEN MINUTES!!

Fifteen. Long. Sweaty. Humiliating. Minutes.

I had hoped he would jump in the shower after that phone call,ive me a window to sneak my ass out, but nope, he was pacing the room like a pent-up beast, long strides eating up the floor, hands raking through that thick, dark hair over and over, tugging hard enough to make his biceps flex under his tigh tee. His jaw was clenched, brows slashed low in frustration, looking all brooding and sexy like he was auditioning for a cologne ad, those beautiful eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

And me? I was huddled here, praying to every god, saint, and random deity that he didn’t yank this door open and catch me, ’cause then I’d have to book the first flight to… I don’t know, Antarctica? Anywhere to escape the mortification exploding across my face, cheeks burning hotter than a jalapeño.

I let out the tiniest sigh and kept my eyes locked on the narrow rack in the closet door. Yeah, I didn’t shut it all the way. Because, unlike some people, I believe in survival. I needed to know the second he walked into the bathroom so I could make my escape and pretend none of this ever happened. I knew plenty of folks would think it’s no biggie, just spit out some excuse. But what the hell would I say? “Hey, bud, I got bored and decided to snoop through your shit like a total creep?” My nose wrinkled at the thought, a silent grimace twisting my features as I shook my head ever so slightly.

Ugh, I groaned inside, snapping my mouth shut tight, lips purse, just to make damn sure he didn’t hear a peep, which, from the way he was still pacing, shoulders rolling with tension, sts balling at his sides, I was safe… for now.

But Jeez, why was he so restless? The words fizzled out in my brain when he spun toward the closet, and that’s when I clocked it… he was rock hard, his dick straining against those jeans like it had a mind of its own, outlining every thick inch. My eyebrows shot up, eyes widening in a mix of shock and heat. Great. Perfect. Everybody gets boned up; it’s totally fine, no judgment from this closet dweller. But damn, right now? Not helping my situation.

“Fuck,” he groaned out loud, voice gravelly and edged with self-loathing, his hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw, eyes squeezing shut as he tilted his head back, exposing that strong throat bobbing with a swallow. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

A cold shower would fix that right up. If he asked, I’d yell it from my hiding spot: Hit the bathroom, lock that door, and let me bolt while you cool off, pretending I never ogled your impressive bulge like it was the eighth wonder. My lips twitched into a wry smirk despite the panic, but I kept still, body coiled tight.

But for some crazy reason, he didn’t head that way. The good news (or bad, depending on how twisted my hormones were) was that he turned his back to me now, that broad, sculpted frame blocking the view down south, letting me think straight…. or try to… ’cause why the fuck was he stripping? The annoying veice in my head chimed in: Well, it’s his room, dumbass. Ha! Now you wanna be a smarty-pants? Couldn’t pipe up when I was diving into this closet to hide like some stalker? I rolled my eyes at myself, biting back a huff.

What was I gonna do? I was freaking out. Like actually freaking cut. And that’s bad news ’cause when I’m panicking, I pull stupid stunts, like… I don’t know, not averting my gaze as Atlas hooked his thumbs into his waistband, shoved his jeans and boxers down in one go, and kicked them aside with a frustrated rowl. Until he was buck-ass naked, that firm, rounded ass clenching as he shifted his weight, turning just enough for the full reveal: neck corded with veins, shoulders broad and powerful, abs carved like they belonged in a museum, and his cock… oh my godd, thick and heavy, still half-hard, swinging between those thighs like a promise of sin.

I mean, this wasn’t the first time I’d seen Atlas naked, but 20-year-old Atlas and 30-year-old Atlas… yeah, there was a difference. A very huge difference. I should have looked away, but damn, my eyes devoured him shamelessly, tracing every ridge, every dip, from that strong jaw ticking with tension down o the V-lines pointing straight to jackpot central. My mouth went dry, tongue darting out to wet my lips, heat floodin my core until I was throbbing, wet, and aching, nipples

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16:19 Mon, Mar 9 M M.

Chapter 168

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tight against my bra like they were begging for a pinch. I was lef speechless, very much turned on, body flushing hot, thighs pressing together for any scrap of relief.

Help… somebody, anybody, before I do something dumb like man out loud and blow this whole covert op.

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