Page 181 of Hateful Games

Taking a wild guess, I stalk in the direction of the library. Imagine my shock when it’s closed with no light drifting in from inside. However, my feet skid to a halt when I see my home office door ajar with the light switched on.

What the hell is she doing in there?

Hackles rising and alert, I soundlessly move and peer through the gap. Rosalie sits on my desk with her back facing me, headphones on and her laptop in the front. Her little army sits around her on the floor, dead to the world.

I frown in bewilderment, running a hand over my jaw as I watch her as she types in that furious pace I’ve caught her a few times. Beside her laptop, sits an open book.

Does she have a job I’m not aware of?

Why is she hiding? Unless she’s some sort of secret government agent, I don’t get it.

Pushing the door open—her still oblivious and deep in the zone—I step inside. None of the dogs stir, thankfully. Cautiously approaching her from behind, I try to make out the words on the screen but fail.

What has Rosalie so absorbed?

The gentlemanly thing would be to walk away and let her have her privacy. She obviously doesn’t want me to know or she would’ve told me.

Oh, would she?

Fuck this. She can’t possibly hate me any more than she already does. What kind of villain would I be if I don’t play my part? With that thought, I lean over her and snatch her laptop away.

She screams.

I only have a second to skirt out of her way before her arm comes swinging at me with her book. Rosalie pushes from the chair, headphones dropping around her neck, and whirls around. “I have a weapo—”

Her mouth shuts when her terrified gaze connects with mine.

I arch on eyebrow. “Do tell me what weapons you have, little hellion? ’Cause that book ain’t one.”

Her expression quickly morphs into fury. “You won’t think that when I beat you to death with it.”

My lips twitch. I missed her murderous threats. I snort as I say, “That’s a meaningless threat. You love your books too much, sweetheart.”

“Why are you up?” she demands accusatorily with her hands on her hips for full effect. It only draws my attention to her tiny shorts and the lace camisole she’s wearing on top. Her nipples poking through the thin material.

“I have a better question,” I retort. “Why aren’t you in our bed?”

“Your bed.”’

“Semantics.”

“Give me back my laptop before I sic Bunny on your ass.”

Bunny and the others are passed out. Not even Rosalie’s scream woke them up. I’m safe for now. If he were up, it’d be another story. Ignoring her, I focus on the contents of the screen. Only a few words in, I realize it’s a story.

“Hey!’ snaps Rosalie. “Stop reading. I didn’t give you permission.”

I continue to disregard her and read. My eyebrows shooting to my hairline when the well-written and angsty scene takes a very erotic turn.

My Rose wrote this?

“Nova!” is the only warning I get before Rosalie is invading my personal space, arms raised. But I duck out of her reach just in time. “Nova! Stop playing around. It’s not funny.”

I’m too engrossed. Especially when I see the similarities from when I spanked her in the kitchen. Except, it doesn’t end there and leads to the girl being bent over the counter and fucked.

“Did you want me to fuck you that afternoon?” I rasp to her. “You only had to ask, Rose.”

Her cheeks flame in embarrassment. “Don’t think so highly of yourself. That has nothing to do with real life.”

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