I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 178

Chapter 178

Emery’s POV

We kissed.

We actually kissed.

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After ten whole years of silence, distance, almosts, almost-maybes, and every kind of emotional torture known to man, our lips had finally touched. And I knew this information wasn’t exactly public service material, but damn. That was the best kiss of my life.

I sat on the edge of my bed staring at the bathroom door, the exact spot where Atlas had backed me against it and kissed me like he was done pretending. Like he’d been holding it in for way too long and finally snapped.

My fingers lifted to my lips, tracing them softly, almost carefully, like I could still feel him there.

Warm. Firm. Perfect.

A smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.

Then it got bigger.

Then bigger.

Until I was just sitting there smiling like an idiot with a full swarm of butterflies losing their minds inside me, flapping, dancing, setting off fireworks, generally making a scene. I groaned and dropped backward onto the bed, pressing the heels of my hands to my face.

“What have you done to me, Atlas?” I muttered to the ceiling.

Because there I was, grinning like a fool at eight in the morning.

Eight A.M.

That should be illegal. I picked up my phone and checked the time again, like maybe it would change and tell me I was being normal.

It did not.

I stared at the screen for a second, then looked back toward the bathroom door and bit my lip.

Would he kiss me again?

God, I hoped so.

Would he?

My stomach flipped so hard I sat straight up. Okay. No. I needed to get it together,

10:40 Thu, Mar 26 m …

Chapter 178

I needed a shower.

:

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And mouthwash… lots of mouthwash. Possibly an irresponsible amount. Maybe the strawberry one Allie gave me, the one she swore by with a completely straight face while saying, “Trust me, this one makes a man wanna kiss you through to sex.”

I had laughed then.

Now?

Now I was seriously considering it like it was military strategy. I jumped off the bed with way too much energy, my bare feet hitting the floor as I headed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, I stepped out feeling fresher, cleaner, and somehow even more aware of my own lips. I stared at my reflection, now fully clothed. In a cute short dress… Okay, okay, maybe my dress was a little shorter than it needed to be. Maybe the neckline was doing my boobs every possible favor. Maybe I’d used my favorite perfume, the one I usually save for special occasions and life-changing moments, not breakfast in a penthouse.

And maybe I’d also done a little mascara, a little foundation, and just enough makeup to look naturally pretty while very obviously not being natural at all.

But everyone dressed like this at home.

No, they did not.

And it’s not like I was walking around giving off I want you inside me vibes.

Okay.

Maybe a little.

I took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen, smoothed my hands down the front of my dress like that would somehow calm the chaos inside me. It did not. From the smell alone, I could already tell Atlas was in there doing something annoyingly attractive in that kitchen, probably wearing that apron, probably looking unfairly good, probably about to ruin my nervous system before 9 a..

I stepped in anyway.

“Good morning.”

Atlas looked up from the stove, and I caught it immediately, that tiny, helpless drop of his eyes before he dragged them back up.

Straight to my cleavage.

Ha.

The victory was small, but it was mine.

He cleared his throat, and when he smiled at me, it came a little slower than usual. “Morning, Em. Sleep well?”

10:41 Thu, Mar 26 M …

Chapter 178

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“Like a baby,” I said, sliding onto one of the counter stools like I wasn’t fully aware of how I looked. I crossed one leg over the other and leaned an elbow on the island, letting myself admire the view.

And wow.

The man looked good.

Apron tied low on his waist, sleeves pushed up, forearms out, hair slightly messy like he’d been running his hands through it. He had that focused look on his face, too, the one that made him seem calm and in control, which was funny because I was two seconds from climbing onto the counter and making very bad choices.

“What are you making?” I asked.

He glanced back at the pan. “Frittata. Italian breakfast. Or close enough.”

I lifted a brow. “Oh wow. You’re going full chef mode.”

He grinned, and God help me, that grin did things to me. “Yeah, and get ready. Your mouth’s about to water.”

I rested my chin in my hand, trying and failing not to smile. “Oh, it already is. And I doubt it’s just because of the food.”

His hand paused for half a second over the pan. Then he looked at me again, one brow lifting, mouth pulling into a slow smirk. “Oh really?”

Yes.

Yes, please.

The ship was not just moving. The ship had left the dock and was now sailing at dangerous speeds.

He turned the stove down and faced me a little more fully, one hand braced on the counter. “And what else could be making your mouth water?”

My pulse jumped.

I tried to keep my face calm, but I could feel the heat climbing into my cheeks anyway. Still, I held his gaze and let the smile tug at the corner of my mouth.

“I don’t know,” I said lightly. “Maybe a handsome man wearing an apron, making what was it…oh yeah,

Frittata.”

Atlas actually laughed under his breath, shaking his head once like I was trouble.

Which, fair.

His eyes moved over my face again, slower this time, and I felt it everywhere. In my chest. In my stomach. In the warm, fluttery mess low in my body.

“Is that right?” he asked.

10:41 Thu, Mar 26 C …

Chapter 178

I nodded, pretending I was far more composed than I was. “That’s right.”

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He looked at me for one long second, then turned back to the stove before either of us did something reckless before breakfast..

“Good to know,” he said.

Good to know?

Good to know??

No. Absolutely not. That was not enough.

Not even close.

Good to know was something you said when a waiter told you the soup of the day. Good to know was not what

you said after a woman indirectly admitted she was one suggestive apron string away from climbing you like a tree.

He should’ve flirted more.

He should’ve said something filthy and smug and very, very distracting. He should’ve forgotten all about whatever he was cooking, walked over, pinned me against the counter, and fucked the living day…

“Em.”

I blinked and looked up.

Atlas was standing there watching me, one brow raised slightly, and that was when I realized there was a plate sitting right in front of me.

Oh. Right. Food.

“Um… thanks,” I said, trying not to sound as dazed as I felt.

His mouth twitched like he knew exactly how far gone I’d just been.

The meal was good.

Of course, it was good. Atlas made it.

Honestly, he should consider opening a restaurant if hockey ever stopped working out, which one impossible. The guy was practically a demi-god in hockey, and if the hockey fans found out I advised him to leave, they’ll slaughter me alive and two rude, because if he opened a restaurant looking like that in an apron, women would literally forget how to chew.

After breakfast, I went back to my room, touched up my hair, sprayed on a little more perfume, adjusted the girls so they sat a little higher, and used mouth spray like I was preparing for war.

And now?

10:41 Thu, Mar 26 C …

Chapter 178

Now here we were.

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1. sprawled on the couch like a cat who’d given up on life, pretending to read this book that might as well have been written in ancient Greek for all I cared. Across the room, Atlas sat on the other couch looking like a damn professor fantasy come to life, white shirt stretched tight over biceps that had no business being that big. glasses perched on his nose, all focused on some dusty history book. Dreamy didn’t even cover it. The man was ride-or-die hot, and here I was, dying a slow horny death while he didn’t even glance up.

This was straight-up torture. My brain had mapped out the whole day off, no shoots, just me and him doing… well, not this. I let out a dramatic groan, flopping my book onto my chest like it personally offended me.

This is boring. I’m bored.

Atlas’s head lifted, those sharp eyes locking on me over the top of his glasses. One eyebrow arched just a fraction, classic Atlas, cool as hell while I was melting into the cushions. “You okay?”

I blinked at him, trying to play it chill even though my pulse was doing the cha-cha. “What?”

“You’ve been sighing a lot.” He set the book down on his knee, body shifting forward a little, that white shirt pulling tighter across his shoulders.

Jeez. I wonder why.

Heat crawled up my neck. I could go the safe route….shrug, fake a yawn, say I was just wiped from yesterday’s shoot. Or I could straight-up blurt, “Why aren’t you kissing me yet?” and sound like the thirstiest idiot on the planet. Nope. Hard pass on the desperate card.

…Or not.

Because the next words that fell out of my mouth had zero permission from my brain.

“Wanna make out?”

They landed like a grenade in a library. My eyes blew wide open. Atlas slowly lowered the book all the way to the coffee table, that smirk freezing for half a second before it curved into something way more dangerous. I gripped my novel with both hands, feeling my face go up in flames.

Well, shit. So much for not sounding desperate.

I cleared my throat, trying to play it cool. “I mean… if you’re not too busy with, y’know, the fall of Rome of

whatever.”

Classic Emery. Might as well buy a clown car and join the circus, I clearly belonged there.

10:41 Thu, Mar 26 C …