Page 108 of Hateful Games

“Where’s the grave concern you were greedily giving to another man but can’t muster for your husband?”

“That another man is your closest friend.”

“Exactly, he’s mine and not yours.”

“Maybe we became really close while I was in London,” she casually counters with a hidden meaning just as we reach my door.

Unlocking it with my key, I tug her inside when she lamely attempts to push her feet into the ground. Her tempting tits shake with the momentum, making my mouth water. Alone without anyone to disturb us, I swallow the groan that rises from deep within my chest as I drag my gaze down her lithe form.

Every inch of her is toned to perfection.

She could give any top model a run for her money. Dead or alive.

Locking the door, I cage her against it. Desperate for a teasing glimpse, I lower my hand to her flat stomach and hook my finger in her pallu, inching it aside until I’m staring at the tiny sparkling jewel.

Fuck, how I want to bite it. Take it between my teeth and pull. Torture her like she tortures me and make her cunt weep with that single touch.

I decide I’m going to get a diamond for her piercing to match the ring on her finger.

“Did you get me alone to ogle?” she whispers in annoyance, but the hitch in her breath gives her away.

Such a desperate little thing, starving for touch.

“You’d sound more convincing if you were slapping my hand away.” Circling around her belly button, I meet her gaze. “Which you never do.”

With a glare, she does.

“It defeats the purpose if I have to remind you, Rose.”

Backing away, I turn and go to my bedroom. I hide my smirk when she follows hot on my heels and into the closet where I go to pull out another suit. She wouldn’t leave letting me have the last word.

“How about you keep your hands to yourself?” she retorts. “Or is your brain too weak to take the signal?”

“My brain works perfectly,” I answer before sitting on my bed. “Yours is the defected one that lets me have free rein to touch you all over.”

Removing my ruined shoes and socks, I pad barefoot to the attached bathroom. Again, she strolls in and hovers in the doorway.

“I think I liked you better when you were ignoring me.”

“Ever wondered why?” The edge in my voice is unmistakable.

“Was there a specific reason other than you hating me?”

“You tell me.”

“It will imply that I care, which I don’t.”

“You cared enough to point it out,” I bluntly point out. “Which means a part of you felt hurt when I pretended you didn’t exist. And I’ll tell you why.” Crossing over to her, I lean into her face and harshly confess, “It’s because we’re destructive together. I thought you brought out my worst qualities. Turns out, I bring out your vindictive streak too.”

“I’ve done nothing against you to deserve your treatment over the years.”

“Haven’t you, though, Rose?”

Hesitancy flickers in her black eyes and yet she lies, “No.”

“You fucked Malcolm.”

She reels back in shock which slowly switches to dread and then hardens into an unapologetic and unregretful expression. Yet a part of me waits for her denial.

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