Page 124 of Hateful Games

“You didn’t answer my question.” My tone is low and barely restrained.

She blinks in confusion when I don’t react to her decision. Determination flares in those dark orbs and she smugly replies, “My needs have never been your concern nor will they ever be, no matter what tricks you pull to make it so. But just so you know, I haven’t been a saint all these years and neither have you.”

“So, you wouldn’t care if I fucked someone else?” Real or not, I have no intention of letting another man in her vicinity. Or me touching another woman when I have her.

“We wouldn’t be the first couple living a lie in our world, Nova.” Her voice is devoid of emotion.

She doesn’t have a clue how big of a lie we’re living. I don’t reveal it. Because ultimately, nothing remains buried for too long.

What may seem like the truth, could be nothing but a smokescreen.

“Understood.” I straighten and lift her so she’s sitting on the counter. I’m still not in the mood to untie her. Her expression turns flat when she realizes it too. But her pride doesn’t allow her to beg again.

It certifies my belief that I already knew deep down.

My Rose is my match.

Even if it’s made in hell.

Chapter Thirty-three

Rosalie

How do I always end up bound and as his prisoner around him?

My strength is no match against his. He always takes me by surprise that all my self-defense tricks I’ve learned turns to dust while my body becomes putty in his hands. Maybe it’s because my body doesn’t sense him as a danger.

Even though he is the biggest one.

Stupid brain.

“What are you doing?” I hate the tremor in my voice. My breath hitches when he raises his hand to flick the top button of his black shirt. It stretches across his bulging biceps and taut stomach. He’s intimidating with his clothes on, even while wearing a perpetual arrogant smirk. But he’s a whole other league of menacing without them.

With every article of material he shreds, he loses the last of his civility and the approachable yet untouchable mask he portrays in front of the entire world.

Having a front-row seat to watching him switch to his true colors.

I’m scared yet enamored.

Intrigued.

Even a little possessive. Because it’s the side only I see.

“Showering.” The word is clipped, his expression detached. A second ago, his eyes were burning with mischievous intensity.

Does he plan to force me to watch? My stupid heart trips over itself while a throb stirs low in my belly.

Another button. Another inch of his skin revealed.

With my hands knotted behind my back, there’s no protection against hiding my body’s reaction. The baby doll is a flimsy shield as it obscenely displays my curves. No barrier against the cool air caressing my skin, causing my nipples to pucker.

All Nova needs is to look closely.

He does.

Nevertheless, the indifference in his icy gaze doesn’t diminish. He’s pissed at my condition to live like strangers behind closed doors. Naïve me thought he’d be relieved. I’m practically giving him permission to sleep with other women.

Any other man would rejoice with joy.

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