Page 232 of Hateful Games

Because the alternative is… giving him every last bit of me. A power like that in his hands is like giving the obsessed and infatuated devil the string to your life.

Chapter Fifty-nine

Nova

The silent treatment has become like a song and dance between us.

Rosalie thinks it annoys me, but it just amuses me.

Because it challenges me to find new ways to get her to smile at me again, which I’ve earned more in the past two weeks we’ve lived together rather than the entirety of our engagement since she was sixteen.

Those smiles were full of spite, venom, and violent intentions.

Now, they’re soft, shy, and full of sensual heat, filled with mischief.

Entering the bedroom of our suite at the hotel, her cute nose is buried in her laptop as she sits near the couch against the floor-to-ceiling window.

I lean against the doorframe, studying her with my hand running along my jaw.

I know her expression by heart when she’s submerged in her characters’ world. Her dark angelic face is void of lines, almost peaceful. The one I’m staring at currently is her acting to be quite busy with her lips pursed, and her typing—which is always at the speed of a bullet train—is painfully slow.

I meant what I said yesterday.

Rose is it for me. The woman I’m meant to be with. As deeply as I’ve wanted nothing to do with her existence, now I want to possess her as deeply as possible.

No other soul will compare.

And I’ll make sure no other man compares for her either. Until I’ve ruined her for every single one of them.

Tapping my knuckles on the wooden door to catch her attention, I announce, “We’re attending a vintage auction, get dressed.”

“As you can see, I’m very busy.”

“You’re pretending to be busy,” I retort. “Which you can do while being on my arm.”

She snorts. “I’m no one’s arm candy. There are hookers and escorts for that.”

“I was thinking more as my wife.” Dropping my voice, I offer, “I’ll be your arm candy.”

When a flush appears on her skin, I smirk.

Straightening, I bridge the gap and snap her laptop shut, earning an outraged gasp. Leaning down, I slam my lips against hers and slip my tongue in. I swallow her tiny moan, combined with my own groan at her sweet taste.

While she’s distracted, I scoop her into my arms bridal style.

“What are you doing?” she yelps, pulling back.

“Getting you naked.”

“I’m still not fucking you.”

“You didn’t let me finish… I’m dressing you afterward.”

She blinks, defiantly lifting her chin. “I can do that.”

“Yeah, but then I won’t have the pleasure to see you naked.”

“I was in a bikini all day yesterday,” she retorts. “Wasn’t that enough to last you a couple days?”

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