Page 185 of Hateful Games

“Do they live in the other series?”

“No. I give him a brutal death each time,” I admit with a smile. “Sort of like an annoying bug that needs to be squashed. It’s my favorite scene to write.”

His jaw grinds, looking offended. “He wasn’t even the main villain. The guy was hilarious.”

“Figures you’d get attached to your own character.”

“I’m completely unbiased.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

Sidestepping him, I stride toward the kitchen. He follows hot on my heels and stands with his fists on the counter while I take out a water bottle from the fridge. When I face him, he watches me in his intense way. Still pissed and probably plotting how to reverse my decision.

My gaze flicks toward the corner, where I see around twenty to thirty parcels lying around. Some opened. “What did you order?”

“Toys.”

“Toys?”

“For Bunny.”

“Umm, why?” My tone is highly intrigued. Since when does he care about my dog’s wants or needs? He hates Bunny and vice versa. Unless… I connect the dots. Laughing, I tease, “Are you trying to bribe him, hubby?” He utters nothing but his expression gives him away. “Oh my god! You were. Aww, did it work?”

“Don’t you want to know what I thought of the book?” he deeply asks, ignoring my amusement. “Besides the obvious innocent murder.”

My mouth opens and closes. “You finished reading it all already?”

“Yes.”

“It’s over five hundred pages, Nova.”

“I’m a fast reader.”

I squint my gaze, not believing him. “Who was the one blackmailing Chelsea?”

“Her brother.” His reply is swift. “Not the boyfriend as you had us believe.”

“How many cats did she have?”

“Two. The second she adopted after losing Lola when the stalker killed her to send a message.” Circling around the island, he stops before me. “I’ve read every single word. Some even twice.”

I blush deep red.

The last words are whispered in a teasing and sensual tone that washes over me like a tangible caress over my skin. An electric shiver courses down my spine. We both know the scenes he’s talking about.

The toe-curling, kinky, and salacious sex.

Harsh gliding of sweaty bodies.

If he ever needed validation that I’m drawn to rough, filthy, and push-me-out-of-my-comfort-zone fucking. The wrong, corrupt, and addictive kind. Then I served it to him on a platter.

I hold my breath for the inevitable joke or teasing underlying with judgement. Yet I sense none. Only bone-deep desire and hunger etch across his handsome features. Dark with feral edges fighting for dominance.

“You had me hooked with your writing, Rose.” I suck in a trembling breath when one finger trails down the side of my face, over my flushed cheeks and down to the hollow of my throat. He pauses right over my pounding pulse. “What I am curious about, though, is who inspired you to write some specific scenes?”

His words drip with jealousy and violence.

I gulp under his untamed gaze.

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