Page 6 of Hateful Games

Our fuming gazes lock in a staring battle as he slowly rises to his feet. I half expect him to stalk to where I’m hovering near my door. Instead, he turns and walks along my bookshelves, picking another novel and skimming through random pages.

Spicy ones, judging by the tiny curve to his mouth.

The cigarette hangs from his lips, while intensity rolls off him in intimidating waves. The indifference on his face in contrast to his body language. The longer he remains quiet and stands in my presence, the more annoyed I become.

So, before he can make more dick moves and ruin my precious paperbacks, I stalk toward him. Before I can so much as yank the one that he’s holding from his grip, he shifts, grabs my wrist, and shoves me against the shelves.

He does it without blinking an eye from the book he’s reading.

An involuntary gasp rolls off my lips, making his gaze fall to my mouth. A frown mars his forehead before it quickly vanishes and he raises his caramel brown eyes to mine.

“Step back.”

He notices my discomfort when my gaze skirts to his burning cigarette. Just the sight of it makes my skin crawl. Instead of doing the gentlemanly thing and putting it out, he inhales another drag and blows it in my face. Then he arches one eyebrow arrogantly. “Or what?”

Heart thundering behind my ribs, I gulp at being caged against his broad chest. The wooden shelves dig into my back but he’s stolen my entire focus. No man has ever been this close to me. Ever. No one ever dared.

The last man I dreamed—or wanted—was Nova to be the first.

What other firsts of mine will he steal?

I’m tall for my age yet he dwarfs me with his frame. His smoky breath teases my hair framing the sides of my face while his scent engulfs all my senses, reminding me of dark rainy nights.

Unpredictable. Stormy. Dangerous.

“Unless you want to lose your balls, get out.”

His pupils—such a light shade that would shine under the sunlight—glint with amusement at my threat.

“A piece of advice, little Rose. The best threats are delivered with an element of surprise,” he says like he’s imparting some great words of wisdom. “Otherwise, they’re just barks with no bite.”

“Why are you really here?” I growl impatiently. “How did you even get in here?”

“Your staff isn’t as loyal as you think.”

My dad pays shit. So, it doesn’t come as a shock. “You would know, being a D’Cruz.”

The ice in his eyes returns with a vengeance. Ever so slowly, he takes another puff before blowing it directly in my face. Again. Like a fucking asshole.

A long, ingrained habit is the sole reason I don’t cough or react.

However, my thread snaps and I lift my knee to kick him. Predicting my move, he counters by dodging it with my book. Smirking, he tsks. “Maybe work on your listening skills too.”

“Stop ruining my books, you prick.” I growl when I see him crushing it in his grips. When I make a grab for it, he walks backward. “Give it back.”

“An apology first.”

“Yes, I’m waiting.”

My sarcasm is met with a sharp scowl. Backing me against the shelves once more, he daringly tips my chin up. A full-body shudder rocks my body, disorienting me. The same frown appears on his forehead, as if he’s also in turmoil.

His grip tightens as his cutting glare flicks to mine. “You have everyone fooled in school, don’t you? The quiet, innocent girl is just a mask. A persona. The real you is a snarky little thing with claws and barbs. Should I feel special for experiencing it, little Rose?”

Each word is dripped with venom while his touch sears my skin. I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he’s affecting me.

His proximity.

His toying.

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