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235 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 14, 2015
tristan’s smirk disappeared and he simply looked at zach for a long moment. then, a small smile tugged at tristan’s lips before transforming into a bright, beautiful smile, his aquamarine eyes shining with warmth, and zach’s breath caught in his throat. fuck. he had it so bad.
“you’re beautiful,” zach said hoarsely. he wasn’t talking about tristan’s looks.
tristan stared at him wide-eyed before shaking his head a little.
“you are,” zach said. “it’s all in the eyes.”
“i hate you,” he whispered. “i hate you.”
what was it about him that made him so unlov—unlikeable? did people look into his eyes and see nothing worthy? was he such a bad, unattractive person?
maybe he was.
“wait,” tristan said suddenly, panting a little. “are you really saying that you, like, love me?” he tripped a little on the word “love” and looked at zach with suspicion.
christ.
zach brushed tristan’s flushed cheek with his thumb. “you’re such a little shit,” he murmured, trailing kisses on tristan’s jawline. “you drive me crazy in a good way and in a bad way. but yeah, i’m pretty sure i love you. i have no idea how that happened, but i do.”
his voice softened. “what is it, brat?”
something in tristan’s expression shattered. the next thing he knew, he had tristan’s face in the crook of his neck and tristan’s arms around him, hugging him like a lifeline. zach would have been less startled if he had seen an elephant in his backyard. he stood still, all his senses assaulted by tristan’s proximity. “tristan—”
“shut up,” tristan whispered. “shut up, shut up, shut up.”
“okay,” zach said, his hands twitching by his sides. finally, he gave in to his desire and wrapped his arms around tristan, pulling him closer.
a peculiar small noise tore out of tristan's throat. “i hate you,” he said into his neck. “tighter.”
christ. what was wrong with him?
zach tightened his embrace, closing his eyes. how could someone so prickly feel so good in his arms? gritting his teeth in annoyance — with himself more than with tristan — he buried his face in tristan’s hair. he inhaled greedily, trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions. protectiveness. disgust with how easily tristan got under his skin and make him want to do whatever tristan wanted. possessiveness. and want. so much want. he wanted to taste the boy, to touch him, to get inside him. to own him.
Best book in the series, by far. Who knew a relationship centered on hate would turn me on so much? I don't even think having this pegged as an enemies-to-lovers trope would be adequate because up until the end, Tristan and Zach were still hating each other.
And don't get me wrong. This was so fucked up but I still enjoyed it. So. Much. The emotions that this story incites are completely foreign to me. One moment I'm annoyed, the next moment I'm flushed and turned on by the turnaround of events. It was so confusing and exciting at the same time and indeed, just a bit wrong.
But trust me, you won't be able to put this down until you reach the very end. Before you know it, you're already sucked in by all the aggression, hating, retorting, and spanking. Did I mention spanking? Yeah, there's spanking. And hot, smoking sex powered by unresolved sexual tension.The only reason I'm not giving this 5 stars is because I don't approve of the bareback sex. Zach was in a relationship when he met Tristan, and an open one at that. And for crying out loud, he's a physiotherapist for atheletes. He should know, among all people, the dangers that unprotected sex entails with a person you don't trust. And Tristan pretty much said it himself that he has a strict condom policy at the start of the book. But both of them just went on ahead and did it without protection during their first sex? Maybe they can plead for temporary insanity during the first time. But not the ones after that.
He was unreasonable around him, behaving like a man possessed, just wanting to have him in every possible way. The truth was, he wanted Tristan to want him. He wanted Tristan to need him. There was nothing rational or practical about it. Tristan was trouble. And yet, he wanted the brat in his arms, all his for bitching at, kissing, scolding, fucking and adoring, with all his prickly attitude.
"Ugh, I hate you so much," Tristan said between kisses. "So much."
Zach laughed and kissed his nose. "You're adorable."
Tristan smacked him on the head.
The mere fact that he was even considering leaving his long-time girlfriend practically at the alter for the guy who gave him no indication that his feelings were reciprocated was pure madness. If Tristan had given him a hint that he wanted them to be more than fuck-buddies, it would have been easier. Zach gave a harsh chuckle. Who was he kidding? If he had known for sure that Tristan had feelings for him, there would be no choice at all. If he was this unreasonable and besotted while Tristan kept him at an arm's length, he had no delusions what would happen if Tristan admitted that he wanted to be his. His. A wave of longing rolled through him and Zach cursed through his teeth. Christ. When had this thing become so fucking deep?
⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*Disliked the main character*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
Zach sighed and kissed him again. “Brat,” he said against his lips.
Tristan grinned. “Always.”
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Zach kissed him like he both hated and craved it, his mouth like a branding iron, searing his lips and stirring his senses into a frenzy of heady desire and want
Tristan grumbled, suppressing the urge to turn his head and stick his tongue out. God, what was it about this guy that brought out the worst in him? He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so on edge and childish.
Tristan hid his smile, aware he sounded like a spoiled toddler. He didn’t give a shit and knew that Zach didn’t, either: Zach didn’t expect him to act any different. Living down to Zach’s expectations was always fun. With Zach, he could be as immature and mean as he wanted. He didn’t have to be nice, good-natured and laid back. He didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to be anything. It felt…different. Liberating. It felt good
“I hate you,” he whispered. “I hate you.”
What was it about him that made him so unlov—unlikeable? Did people look into his eyes and see nothing worthy? Was he such a bad, unattractive person?
Maybe he was.
Maybe Tristan didn’t have an icicle instead of a heart, but for him emotions were a weakness, and Tristan’s sense of self-preservation was unrivaled
His blue eyes were amused and tender at the time. “I’m well aware of all the…less than charming aspects of your personality. I’ve seen you at your worst. I’ve seen you be selfish, mean, vindictive and overly possessive. And it doesn’t make me love you less.”
“Why?” he whispered.
“Because when you love someone, you don’t love them for their good personality traits and actions. You love them because you love them, with all their flaws and ridiculous insecurities.”
“I hate you,” he whispered. “I hate you.”
What was it about him that made him so unlov—unlikeable? Did people look into his eyes and see nothing worthy? Was he such a bad, unattractive person?
Maybe he was.