Page 261 of Hateful Games

Leaning into my touch, she asks, “You brought dinner?”

“Your favorite pasta.” Some of the light returns in her eyes at the mention of food, making me smile. “Come downstairs once you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

Rising to my full height, I reenter the bedroom and go to the closet to change into sweatpants. Five minutes later, the dogs and I are gathered in the kitchen. They impatiently wait to be served, their mood better.

Fire barks nonstop, demanding his bowl be served first.

“You’ll get your food, you monster.”

“Woof!”

I shake my head at their antics and quickly finish assembling their bowls. As soon as I’ve stepped back, they rush forward and attack their food. Halfway into it, Fire ignores his own and attempts to steal from Bunny’s. I hold back my laughter when the big hulk backs down and lets him eat.

“I should’ve told you to give them dinner separately.”

I twist around at Rosalie’s breathy and amused voice as she enters the room. My gaze becoming hungry at the sight of her in my hoodie that I gave to her when we stayed at my parents’ place.

It completely dwarfs her.

“I’m calling it mine now,” she teases, catching me staring starstruck.

Eating the distance in two quick steps, I swoop down to kiss her deeply. She sighs against my lips and opens to let my tongue invade her mouth. It starts hard before turning slow and teasing by the end.

The hue of red on the contours of her face is from my effect, not from sadness.

“New rule. At home, you only wear my clothes.”

“Might come in the way of my seduction plans to surprise you in all the see-through lingerie I have.” Dropping her voice an octave, she whispers against my lips, “Some even cut out in the most perfect places.”

My cock hardens against her flat stomach. Grabbing her throat, I earn a moan as I command, “In the bedroom, you may make an exception.”

“I thought you loved when I’m your good girl.”

“You’re my good girl even when you’re bad.”

Tiny paws interrupt her conversation. I peer down to see Maggie scratching our legs with a stuffed toy between her teeth.

“She likes to play after eating,” explains Rosalie, pulling the toy and throwing it toward the hall. Maggie chases after it.

“You have them spoiled.”

“Says the man who got them a big-ass trampoline.”

“It was a necessity.”

“Admit it, you like my babies.”

“I’ll admit no such thing,” I retort, but there’s a smile on my face. Picking Rosalie around the waist as she squeals playfully, I stalk to the kitchen island and sit her ass down. I bring a stool for me to seat. Pulling out her food which I heated in the microwave, I fill our plates and take them to Rosalie.

“Thank you,” she says, grabbing hers.

I settle down with my own after bringing two bottled waters. Amicable silence descends as we eat. Our attention drifting to each other every now and then. It’s a miracle I haven’t tugged her onto my lap as she shyly glances away. Halfway through hers while I’m finished with mine, she clears her throat.

“Can we go for a late-night drive?” she asks, not meeting my eyes as if I’ll say no.

I stop her nervous tapping of the fork, making her dark gaze flicker to my stern one. “You need to stop phrasing things you wish to do as a question, Rose. You don’t need my permission or be afraid I’ll say no. If you want something, just tell me and we’ll make time.”

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