Freya

Freya was trying to make herself some breakfast, even though her appetite didn't exist whatsoever. Her gaze lingered inside the fridge-nothing in there made her stomach want it. In fact, she felt nauseous.

She had taken a shower, hoping it would wash away the previous night-but of course, it didn't. So, fuck that.

Now she was clean, but she felt dirty-hungry, but nauseous-and longing, but not satisfied.

Yippie fucking hooray for this morning.

She heard him before she saw him. The foul mood hovering over her was palpable, and she knew it. But not a single nerve in her body cared, so she didn't mind.

"Morning," he muttered while walking toward the coffee maker.

"Morning, pleasure-killer," she shot back.

Seth snapped his face toward her, his own bad mood plastered across his features.

"Don't start, please," he said, turning his attention back to the coffee.

"If I actually start something, you can bet that at least I'll finish it," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

He chuckled a deep, annoyed, short laugh. "You know what? I'm not going to let you get under my skin today. So, I will not be bothered by you and your attitude."

"Well, I wouldn't have woken up with an attitude if the man I shared a bed with last night actually managed to man the fuck up and fuck me like I wanted to," she said with a sharp glare, knowing she had him.

He turned violently fast, moving toward her, towering over her.

His eyes darkened.

"Shut the fuck up. You know that's not what the deal was," he hissed, his nostrils flaring slightly. Freya found it a bit funny and had to hold back the laughter threatening to bubble out of her.

"I thought you said you wouldn't let me get under your skin today? Or are you just that big in your mouth, but in reality, you're this small?" she said, holding her thumb and index finger an inch apart.

Freya was pretty sure she could hear his blood boiling in his veins.

"Fine. Next time I'll just fuck you then, without caring about anything," he shot back, looking down at her.

"Oh, honey, you lost your chance last night, so you won't know how good it feels. Sorry," she said, a smile curling on her lips.

But then her heart stopped beating.

Seth launched his arm toward her, grabbing the back of her neck and tilting her head upward to him. His damn, fucking, annoying azure-blue eyes stared her down.

"That's what you think, but you're not in charge anymore. Do you understand that?" he provoked.

Her reaction was to jerk her head to the side, but his grip didn't let go.

"Try me, you fucking piece of shit!" she yelled, wrenching in his grasp.

Seth then brought up his other hand, laying it on the side of her face. He smelled so fucking good.

His hand smelled good. What the fuck.

Then his face came so close to her ear that his lips brushed against it. "Careful now. Maybe we should share some hate-sex right here and now," he whispered, his weight pressing against her. His warmth threatened to ignite an annoying pleasure in her veins, her nerves-hell, in everything.

"I think I'll pass since I took care of myself in the shower," she lied.

His breath grew heavier in her ear at her words.

"Don't tempt me. Next time, I won't hold back," he promised, releasing his grip.

"After last night, I doubt it."

Silence fell for a moment, and Seth just stared at her.

"I've mastered bikes, races, and life-or-death moments," he said, his gaze never leaving hers. "But you? You are the hardest thing I've ever encountered in my life."

"Good you're prepared, then, because I'll give it my all in the months ahead," she snapped back.

"Months?" he commented, raising an eyebrow. "We don't have months. We have fourteen days."

She furrowed her brows. "What? We only have fourteen days? What the fuck are you talking about?" she hissed.

"Yes, didn't you read the new contract?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing at her like she was fucking stupid.

"Eh, yes, of course I did," she said, trying to recall if she'd actually read it.

"They only gave me two weeks, so we need to start right now, actually," he said.

"And how exactly are you going to learn how to fucking ride a horse in fourteen days?" she asked, the thought of herself learning the stupid bike in such a short time making her a bit nervous.

"Well, of course, we'll need to lower the ambitions we set earlier," Seth said with a faint smile. "Maybe I can walk with the horse and try that trot thing? And you can do a lap at, let's say, hmm... 80 km/h?"

"Fuck no-you are going to gallop on your own. If I'm going to ride your death machine at that speed, you're going to ride mine at gallop speed."

"Fine, but no jumping then?"

"Deal," she said, stretching out her arm with a challenging smirk.

Seth's lips curved into a faint grin as he clasped her hand, his grip firm. "Don't back out when things get real, Freya."

"Worry about yourself," she shot back, pulling her hand away.

Their eyes locked for a moment, the silent tension lingering between them.

"I will."