Page 141 of Hateful Games

I’m conflicted about how I badly want to be a protector and a predator.

There’s no middle ground when it comes to my feelings for her. Only extremities.

Her head snaps up when I turn off the music and she looks over her shoulder. Blinking in shock, she slaps the screen shut of the laptop. The action revealing she doesn’t want me to see whatever it was.

Doesn’t she realize it’s equivalent to waving a red flag in front of a bull?

“Intriguing choice of music.”

Twisting toward me, she doesn’t stand and meets my gaze. “When did you come home?”

“Been a while.”

“Were you watching me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason to watch my wife?”

She heaves an exasperated breath, and taunts, “It’s creepy.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you about the cameras,” I lie. But I have every intention of making it a reality. I can’t stomach the thought of somebody else catching her unguarded like I did. A part of knowing it’s not a rare occurrence. “You should also be more aware of your surroundings.”

Redness appears on her cheeks and she looks away. My attention falls to her naked thighs as she wears those useless tiny shorts. Her T-shirt clings to her breasts, her nipples poking against the thin material because of the cold temperature in the room.

She doesn’t realize what she’s doing to me, sitting innocent and pretty on her knees with her hands submissively resting on her thighs. The long red nails digging into her skin.

“It’s unwise to kneel before me, Rose.” My tone is gruff with lust. “I might take it as an invitation to fuck your pretty mouth.”

Her lips parts on an exhale and she scrambles to her feet. I grab her hand when she almost trips in the process. She tries tugging it free upon finding her balance. But I haul her against my chest.

“Nova.”

I ignore her plea to let go and brush her hair back over her shoulder. Sitting on the edge of the table behind me, I pull her between my spread legs and lightly hold her waist. So she can’t go anywhere. “I came home early for you, wife.”

“Well, I’m busy.”

I glance around the room and smirk. “I can see that.”

“Then let go so I can get back.”

“Not yet,” I murmur and toy with the hem of her shirt. Her breathing picks up when I push my hand underneath and skim my fingers on her goosebump-ridden skin. “What did you have for lunch?”

“Umm…”

I still my caressing when she trails off. “Did you skip lunch?”

“I forgot.”

“How long have you been in here?” My tone is admonishing.

“Since morning,” she replies, toying with the button on my shirt. Realizing she’s touching me willingly, she drops her hands. I tighten my grip on her waist, so I don’t grab it and rest it back on my chest. “I took a break when Mahi visited and helped me pick a few charities in the area to volunteer at.”

“Does this happen a lot? You skipping meals?”

“Why do you care?”

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