I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Emery’s POV

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Whoever invented truth or drink deserves a special place in hell, because somehow, I ended up dry humping Atlas Lawson like I didn’t spend the whole of high school calling him my mortal enemy.

I should’ve stopped. God knows I should’ve. But damn… it just felt so good.

“Emery…” His voice was tight, strained, like he was wrestling with every single good-boy bone in his body. His hands, though? Yeah, they were gripping my waist like I was the only thing keeping him alive.

How did we even get here? Oh right. Ford. With his big dumb grin and his even dumber ideas. “Truth or drink,” he said. “It’ll be fun,” he said. Next thing I know, the universe decides to be a troll and pairs me with Atlas…of course, why am I not surprised.

Sober me? Would’ve laughed and said absolutely not.

Drunk me? Was stupid. And reckless. And apparently very, very horny.

And now here we were, in the corner of Ford’s rooftop couch, grinding against each other in the dark while the idiots who started this were too drunk to notice.

Atlas’s head tipped back against the couch, jaw tight, eyes shut. We should stop…” he muttered, not moving me away, just holding tighter.

“Stop?” I whispered against his neck, feeling his pulse hammering under my lips. “You don’t sound like you wanna stop.”

“Emery… fuck.” He groaned, voice so rough it sent shivers down my spine. His chest was rising and falling fast, his breath hot against my cheek. He looked like he was fighting for his life. And yeah, he was hard as a rock.

I was too drunk to care. Too close to quit.

The dare was supposed to last three minutes. I don’t know how long it’d been, but three minutes felt like a century ago.

“Atlas…” I whined, clutching his shoulders as I moved against him. God, my body was begging. “I just… I just need this.”

He cursed low, hands digging harder into my hips. “Emery, don’t..”

“I just need to fucking come.” The words slipped out, shameless, bathetic, and way too raw.

His head snapped forward, lips brushing my ear. “Don’t say shit like that,” he growled, voice low, trembling, “or I’ll do something we’ll both regret.”

My heart pounded. My face buried into his neck, I bit down on my lip but still let out a broken moan. My thighs tightened around him as I chased my release, completely gone. Finally, when the wave hit and I shuddered, I slumped against him, laughing breathlessly, hair sticking to my sweaty forehead. “I cant believe we just did that.”

Atlas didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He just sat there, stone-ced, chest heaving. I could still feel his dick hard pressed

on me.

I giggled, drunk and reckless. “Do you… want me to…”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply, gently getting me off him as he got up and walked away.

“Atlas?” I called, trying to stand, but my legs wobbled. My foot caught on the table leg and…

SMACK. Face, meet floor.

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Chapter 18

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1 groaned, then laughed at myself, clutching the carpet like it was my best friend. “I… I can’t… oh my god, who just falls face- flat after…” drunk hiccup, “…dry humping the hottest guy on campus?”

I was still giggling when everything started going fuzzy… and the black.

The next time I opened my eyes, everything was spinning. My mouth felt like sandpaper, my head was pounding, and the leather seat underneath me was cold.

I groaned.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said from beside me. Atlas.

I turned slowly. We were in a car, the backseat. He sat next to me eyes on the road ahead as Ford’s driver navigated through campus traffic.

“Wh… where are we?” I mumbled, rubbing my temple.

“On the way home,” he said, voice low. “Ford assigned drivers for anyone who got wasted.”

Right. That damn brownie. Those shots. Truth or drink.

And then…

Oh God.

My face heated instantly.

I dry humped Atlas. In public. In front of people. Well, half the team was too drunk to know their own names, but still… I should be embarrassed, or maybe I am, but still too drunk to process it all… I’ll just leave it for sober Emery, who, by the way, was pretty sure was gonna end my life tomorrow.

By the time we reached our apartment, I could barely walk straight. Atlas helped to my room, his arm around my waist, silent the whole time. I hated how steady he felt. How warm.

“Thanks,” I muttered as we stepped into my room.

He let go and quietly walked out. I stumbled toward my bed. I made it halfway before realizing I couldn’t, for the life of me, get the damn zipper on my dress undone.

I tried. Really, I did. Tugged and twisted and grunted like an idiot.

“Screw this,” I muttered and turned around, padding barefoot to Atlas’s room.

The door was cracked open. He was already inside, shirtless, starling near his dresser, trying to sober up with a bottle of

water.

“Need help?” he asked, not even turning around.

“Yeah. Zip. Can’t reach it.” I stepped in and turned my back to him, pulling my hair over my shoulder. “A little help?”

I felt him pause behind me. Then a quiet sigh.

“Emery…”

His fingers brushed the bare skin of my back as he gently tugged the zipper down. The tension in the room instantly snapped tight. His breath hitched, and so did mine.

The dress slipped down around my feet, pooling like silk on the loor.

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I groaned, then laughed at myself, clutching the carpet like it was my best friend. “I. I can’t oh my god, who just falls face- flat after.” drunk hiccup, dry humping the hottest guy on campus?”

I was still giggling when everything started going fuzzy and then black.

The next time I opened my eyes, everything was spinning. My mouth felt like sandpaper, my head was pounding, and the leather seat underneath me was cold.

I groaned.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said from beside me. Atlas.

I turned slowly. We were in a car, the backseat. He sat next to me eyes on the road ahead as Ford’s driver navigated through campus traffic.

“Wh.. where are we?” I mumbled, rubbing my temple.

“On the way home,” he said, voice low. “Ford assigned drivers for anyone who got wasted.”

Right. That damn brownie. Those shots. Truth or drink.

And then…..

Oh God.

My face heated instantly.

I dry humped Atlas. In public. In front of people. Well, half the team was too drunk to know their own names, but still…I should be embarrassed, or maybe I am, but still too drunk to process it all… I’ll just leave it for sober Emery, who, by the way, was pretty sure was gonna end my life tomorrow.

By the time we reached our apartment, I could barely walk straight. Atlas helped to my room, his arm around my waist, silent the whole time. I hated how steady he felt. How warm.

“Thanks,” I muttered as we stepped into my room.

He let go and quietly walked out. I stumbled toward my bed. I made it halfway before realizing I couldn’t, for the life of me. get the damn zipper on my dress undone.

I tried. Really, I did. Tugged and twisted and grunted like an idiot.

“Screw this,” I muttered and turned around, padding barefoot to Atlas’s room.

The door was cracked open. He was already inside, shirtless, standing near his dresser, trying to sober up with a bottle of

water.

“Need help?” he asked, not even turning around.

“Yeah. Zip. Can’t reach it.” I stepped in and turned my back to him, pulling my hair over my shoulder. “A little help?”

I felt him pause behind me. Then a quiet sigh.

“Emery…”

His fingers brushed the bare skin of my back as he gently tugged the zipper down. The tension in the room instantly snapped tight. His breath hitched, and so did mine.

The dress slipped down around my feet, pooling like silk on the loor.

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Chapter 18

I stood there in nothing but my black bra and matching thong.

I could feel the shift behind me, his eyes dragging down my back, his chest rising and falling faster.

“Help me unhook my bra too,” I whispered.

He didn’t move.

Instead, I felt the slightest touch….his fingers tracing the line of my spine, slow… trembling almost.

Then his voice, right against my ear.

“What are you doing, Emery?”

His breath was warm, his tone wrecked. I turned to face him, chin tilted up. My heartbeat was going wild.

“You know what I want,” I whispered.

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His jaw clenched, like he was physically holding himself back. In one swift move, he closed the distance between us. Not rough. Just… urgent. He backed me gently against the wall, his hands landing on either side of me. His knee slid between my legs, parting them with the slowest pressure that made my breat catch. He was looking at me like I was the one thing he couldn’t have…but desperately wanted anyway.

Gosh. What the hell did they put in those brownies? Because I was on fire.

He looked at me like he was trying to memorize every inch of my face. Then, without breaking eye contact, I ran my tongue over my lower lip.

His jaw clenched. “Emery… don’t do that,” he ground out.

I smirked, shameless. “Why? Does it turn you on more?”

His hazel eyes darkened, fire in them now. “You… you fucking turn me on. I want to do bad things to you, Emery.” His voice was low, gravelly, right at my ear as his mouth brushed against my neck.

A shiver shot straight down my spine. My throat went dry. “Wha… what kind of bad things?” I whispered, almost scared of the answer but craving it anyway.

His breath was hot against my skin. “I want to make you dirty. I want to shove my dick into you fuck you senselessly. Make these pretty lips of yours scream my name all night and beg for more.”

The words tore something loose in me. My hips moved on their own, grinding down on his knee, chasing that friction. The sensation was maddening, sparking through my veins.

“A…Atlas,” I moaned, unable to hold it in. Hoping he would touch me, kiss me,

fuck me.

“I want to find your fucking pleasure point,” Atlas muttered, his mouth hot against my neck before he sucked gently on the spot just below my ear.

I whimpered, clutching his shoulders, my nails digging into his kin. My whole body felt like it was on fire, every breath shaky and desperate.

“I want to mark every inch of you,” he growled, voice hoarse. “I want to kiss you until your legs shake… fuck, Emery, I want to ruin you for anyone else. I want to make you mine.”

god.

My mind was spinning, heart slamming against my ribs. It was le I couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t breathe without touching him. My hips rocked against the pressure of his knee, asing that high, reckless, aching, and completely

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Chapter 18

unhinged. There was no thinking…just wanting. Just feeling.

“Yes…” I gasped, breath broken, “Atlas… fuck…yes, yes, yesss.”

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His jaw clenched, his eyes locked on mine like he was barely holding himself back. That look, damn, that look, made my stomach flip in the best way. And when everything inside me snapped, when that wave of pleasure tore through me like fire,

I shook, moaned his name, and buried my face in his neck, breathing him in like oxygen.

For a second, everything stilled.

Then Atlas tilted my chin up, his thumb brushing my lip, and smirked, low and dangerous.

“Remember this,” he said, voice rough. “You fucking started it.”

And then he kissed me, hard and deep and full of things we’d both regret in the morning.

But in that moment?

I didn’t give a damn.

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