Hate to Crave You
Bella Love-Wins
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Hate to Crave You
Copyright 2018 © Bella Love-Wins
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Cover Illustration: Tempting Illustrations
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Bella is a Wall Street Journal (Begging for Bad Boys) and USA Today Bestselling Author (Begging for Bad Boys, Alphas for the Holidays. Shifters in the Snow: Bundle of Joy, Shifters in the Shadows), who loves writing steamy, high-action romance stories about bad boys, athletes, firefighters, billionaires, and alpha males who know what they want and aren't afraid of laying claim to the women who catch their interest.
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Like so many characters in her novels, Bella gets all hot and bothered for action, romance and unexpected love connections that take her breath away. For the next while, you'll find her in Toronto, plotting and writing about her latest stories on her MacBook.
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Contents
Copyright
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Untitled
Blurb
Prologue
1. Roman
2. Julianna
3. Roman
4. Julianna
5. Roman
6. Julianna
7. Roman
8. Julianna
9. Julianna
10. Julianna
11. Roman
12. Julianna
13. Roman
14. Roman
15. Julianna
16. Roman
17. Julianna
18. Roman
19. Julianna
20. Roman
21. Julianna
22. Julianna
23. Roman
24. Roman
Epilogue
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Blurb
Never fall for the enemy.
Roman deceived her.
Julianna double-crossed him.
They should hate each other to the core, but neither one of them can stay away.
Roman
The second his eyes met Julianna’s, he knew he was in trouble. Then she said his name out loud and everything changed.
She was the enemy, and that couldn't change easily. Their families had been feuding since before either of them was born.
When the diamond deal of a lifetime fell into their families' laps, with the condition that only one family would be left standing, he was sure this was it. He had a chance to make a name for himself and step out from under his father's control.
There was just one problem.
He'd signed up to seduce, deceive and lay waste to Julianna's heart.
Plans were already set in motion.
Once she found out, it would ruin her.
It was a terrible idea to crave her.
But he did.
Now, he's the one can't let go. Now, he's in too deep.
Julianna
The first time she saw Roman from across the room, she knew.
The tall, dark, and possessive alpha wanted to own her.
Those intense blue eyes told her everything.
She just didn't expect their chemistry to be off the charts.
But he was sure to despise her once he discovered the truth: that two could play the game he'd started in the boardroom.
Julianna was no fool. She knew the art of the double-cross, and saw Roman's cocky tricks -- and his generous package -- coming at her from a mile away.
Now, she's about to find out that sometimes, faking it turns into something real.
Author’s Note: An intensely sinful full-length standalone romance. Hate to Crave You is a modern spin on Romeo and Juliet, with twists, turns, and a happily ever after ending that'll steal your heart, from Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author, Bella Love-Wins.
Prologue
Roman
Present Day
She stood at the side of his bed, her brown doe eyes big and wide, pleading up at him for forgiveness, begging for what they used to have to stay the same.
It was too fucking late for that.
She had another thing coming if she thought this time would be like the last.
He wasn’t going to be soft or gentle.
Not after what she’d done to his heart.
He gave her shoulders a shove, pushing her onto the bed. As he got in beside her, he flipped her onto her stomach and tugged down the zipper of the rich red strapless ball gown she had worn to whatever event she was at earlier in the evening. The force of his movement caused a small tear where the zipper stopped, and he felt a hint of satisfaction.
I ruined her dress.
Like she ruined us.
Turning her onto her back, he dragged the dress off of her completely. He used to love staring at her delicate lines and creamy skin. Under the soft light glowing in through the windows at night, she’d always been perfection.
But now, he couldn’t stand to look at her beauty. Not when he knew her own flesh and blood had a hand in turning him into the bad guy. Now, she was just like every other woman who had an agenda when they climbed into his bed.
Her legs parted slightly and he ripped her silky panties off her hips. He did the same
with her bra next, and lowered to one breast, sucking her nipple in between his lips. He flicked his tongue across her puckered flesh. She writhed under him, panting for breath, and he threw the shredded fabric clear across the room when he remembered why he was here.
It was to use her perfect fucking body.
To break her.
Like she’d done to him.
She stared up at him, bare, vulnerable. She was filled with lust, but there was a bit of something else in her gaze.
Fear.
Good.
She fucking should be afraid.
Her breath hitched as he grazed callused palms up the sides of her legs. Stopping at her waist, he turned her onto her stomach and raised her ass high into air. Yes, he fucking wanted her, but he was done staring at that face, and those lips that spun lies with such ease.
"Roman," she whispered his name on a breath.
Undoing his belt buckle, he unbuttoned the waistband, lowered his zipper, and found the strip of three condoms in the pocket of his slacks. He planned on using these up on her tonight.
I'll fuck her.
Then I'll do it again, and once more to make her raw before I send her on her way.
He wanted her to remember what it felt like to be owned one minute and discarded the next.
Desired then tossed away.
Trusted then betrayed.
She needed to feel it.
He released his raging erection and gave it a tug. He was almost angry at the sight of a bead of precum at the tip, because it was for her. He silently told himself that he might have been hard as fuck for her, but she didn’t own him. Not after what she’d done. He rolled a condom on, and with a feather light touch, slid a hand across her stomach and down between the tops of her thighs. Cupping her mound, he was rough and abrupt when he curved two thick fingers between her hot folds.
With a hiss of a sigh, she pressed her backside onto his groin. Her tight walls rode his fingers, sucking them into her while grinding her ass against his swollen, rigid cock.
She wanted more.
Needed it.
And fuck, she would get it like an animal needing to scratch an itch. But it wouldn't mean a thing. Not like it could have.
He palmed her ass cheek and spread them apart, positioning the tip at her slick, glistening center. He dragged his length along her folds, teasing her, extending her anticipation, driving her need so high that she begged for it.
"Please," she hummed.
"Please what?" he asked.
"Please fuck me, Roman... I need you... Don't make me wait."
He smiled a little, knowing that he had her where he wanted her.
She needs me.
But I'm done needing her.
This is just damn good sex now that she shredded me.
She just doesn't know it yet.
"I want you... so bad," she called out on a breathy whimper.
It had only been a couple of days since the last time he’d taken her, but tonight was the first time he’d fuck her. This time, he felt nothing.
Just a dull numbness in his heart and anger around his chest.
"How bad?" he asked her on a raspy groan that reminded him how fucking bad he wanted her too.
“So bad, baby... I can’t do without—"
Before she finished her sentence, he sank balls deep into her tightness, entering with a sharp jerk she hadn’t expected. Fuck, she felt so fucking good, so tight and wet around him.
She gripped fistfuls of the bedsheets as he pounded into her, her face now buried into the mattress. He was relentless. One hand dug dull fingernails into her hips while the other anchored her to him from the nape of her neck. He claimed and reclaimed every inch of her, making sure she came for him a few times before he threw her away. Both were sure to leave a mark that would last longer than ever. Good.
Soon, the fused scent of their sweat and her arousal, and the sound of her screams and their slick skin slapping together overtook all his thoughts. Pleasure rolled through him as he fucked her and his rage into oblivion. And when he was done, he climbed off of her, cleaned up in the bathroom, rolled on another condom, and started again.
She wouldn’t be able to shake the memory of tonight once he was done with her. She’d be fucking ruined. And after that, when she realized what she lost, she'd be gutted.
Like she’d done to him.
1
Roman
Eighteen Years Ago
She was so little.
That was the one thing that bugged Roman Montrose. She wasn’t a big kid like he was. It was one thing to be eleven years old and be alone in the hospital, but a whole other can of worms to barely hit five or six years of age and not have any family around to visit. He wondered why she didn’t, but he didn’t creep out of his bed to talk to her or find out.
Not yet, anyway.
The nurses in this ward were cranky old bitches. He didn’t have much love for them, or the place, even though he enjoyed not having to sit in a classroom all day. He’d smacked his head pretty hard while they were playing soccer and he had to be admitted because they said he had a concussion. What he had was a headache, and he didn’t see why he was forced to be in the hospital—he didn’t understand why he was in a room with a girl either. He’d asked about that, several times, and finally one of the cranky old nurses had told him.
“We’ve got a problem with strep throat and scarlet fever going through the pediatric ward. You two came in after the symptoms started and we’re trying to isolate all the children who are contagious so that kids like you don’t catch those nasty little infectious diseases.”
It drove him mad the way she started talking to him like he was a little kid, explaining what contagious and isolated meant. What did she think he was? Seven years old?
The girl had come in a few hours after he had, breathing heavily. It sounded like asthma to him. She would make a whistling little wheezing sound sometimes that had annoyed him at first, but then he caught sight of her face and that breathing sound scared him a little. It probably scared her a lot. Her eyes were big and dark in her face, and he was almost positive that it hurt her to even breathe.
Sometimes, she’d start coughing and when it was over, she’d cry a little. She always sounded like she was trying hard not to cry, too.
That was what made him go over and talk to her after the nurses left.
He edged in closer to see if she was still awake, although how could she be asleep after that coughing fit?
She lay in the bed, so little and pale, and he frowned as he eyed her chest falling up and down. She was breathing so fast. That wasn’t normal.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked without even planning on it.
She turned her head to his, her big, brown eyes going wide in her pale face. Two dark braids lay in long thick ropes to her shoulders and she swallowed as she looked at him. “I have asthma,” she said, her voice rough.
“That’s what I thought. So that’s the only reason why you’re here?” he asked, perplexed. One of the kids on his soccer team had asthma and he just had to use his inhaler before he played. It wasn’t like it was any big deal.
The little girl nodded at him. “Yes.”
He cocked his head, studying her. “I guess you got it bad, then.”
She jerked up one shoulder in a shrug. “I got the flu and they said it went to ’monia.”
“You mean pneumonia.” He nodded sagely even though he was only vaguely aware of what pneumonia was. He hadn’t thought little kids could get it. His grandpa had it once, and had been a mean old grouchy bastard the whole time he was sick. Grandpa hadn’t been forced to stay at a hospital either. But then again, his grandpa hadn’t had asthma on top of his pneumonia.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly, casting a quick look at the door. The nurses had actually closed it most of the way this time so he wasn’t too worried they’d come in. They were really big on them sleeping when it was time to sleep. He liked to sleep w
hen he was tired, not just because it was time to sleep.
“Julianna.” Her lips trembled a little. “I want my mom and dad. I don’t like being here alone.”
“Well, you’re not alone.” Poor kid. “I’m here.”
She blinked at him and those big dark eyes made him feel a little funny inside. Almost…sad for her. “I guess.”
“We can be friends,” he added. “That means you’re not alone.”
She plucked at the blanket that covered her thin body and whispered, “I don’t got a lot of friends.”
“Have. The proper word is have,” he advised her.
She slid him a look from under her lashes and he wondered if she’d tell him that he sounded like a jerk. Sometimes his friends back home did, but all the kids at the boarding school he attended here in Switzerland talked like he did, and so did his family. It was always wise to speak properly. It couldn’t hurt for a six-year-old to understand the rules.
“Okay,” she said, a little spark showing in her eyes. “I don’t have a lot of friends. I have to go to school here now. All my friends are back in ‘Merica.”
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