Page 156 of Hateful Games

Fuck. What must we look like?

Bianca and I look like we’ve been through the wringer as the men run their hot gazes down our bodies. It dawns on me that we’re clad in only wet bikinis, which cling to every curve of us. Bianca must realize it, too, because she shifts closer to me.

It’s so embarrassing.

“I’ll ask again,” calmly states Nova, his jaw grinding as his eyes flare the longer he stares at me. I fight the urge to cross my arms and hide my hardening nipples. “What is happening?”

“Nothing,” I say, at the same time Bianca blurts out, “Experimenting.”

“Explain.”

From my peripheral, I catch Dash taking off his suit jacket and striding to Bianca to wrap it around her shoulders. She blushes when it dwarfs her small frame, hiding her wet clothes underneath. Only then does Dash marginally relax.

“We were just checking if the smoke detectors were working or not,” Bianca smoothly lies. But the men don’t look convinced. At all.

Dash tilts Bianca’s face to his with a finger under her chin and demands, “Was this the life-or-death emergency you texted me?”

“What could be more life-threatening than fire.”

His gaze narrows with mirth. “So, out of the blue you two decided to do this… experiment?”

My gaze flies to Nova, who stalks to our little circle while cursing when his shoes get wet from the water on the floor. His proximity when he invades my personal space makes me dizzy. Suddenly our little circle feels a little too dominated by testosterone.

“This experiment by chance have anything to do with me asking you to cook?” asks Nova suspiciously.

“I think I’ve told you aren’t allowed in the kitchen, kitten,” scorns Dash.

“See, I told you that you, you can’t cook, Bee,” I complain.

“Apparently neither can you, little hellion,” chides Nova.

I open my mouth but Bianca cuts in, “The gig is up, Ro.”

“Because you burnt the food.”

“It was your idea to swim, instead of keeping an eye on it.”

“I think you’ve gotten her in enough trouble, kitten,” says Dash. “And so are you.”

“Why? I was trying to help.”

“Why text me?”

“I… um.”

“Was he your backup?” I question.

“I thought he could cook. He makes a mean biryani.” She innocently shrugs. “And who doesn’t love biryani?”

“Kitten,” sighs Dash, holding back his laughter.

Lo and behold, the man smiles. A once in a blue moon sighting. So us mere mortals know he’s human like the rest of us.

“I need to teach you the definition of an emergency.”

Nova, who was quiet, pulls me against him and says to Dash over my shoulder, “Mine needs to be taught not to lie to me.”

“We’ll leave you to it.”

---