Page 37 of Hateful Games

I graze my hard nipples with my fingertips as the vision of him shoving my arms over my head flies across my mind. While his deep and husky voice echoes, teasing and taunting.

Shivering under the spray of water, a restlessness growing between my thighs. So confusing and powerful and insistent.

My fingers descend even lower, my stomach tightening while I pant faster.

The ache intensifies and the second the top of my hand comes in contact with my clit, I moan, “Mmhmm.”

Don’t ruin them.

The tiny sound slipping past my lips plus Nova’s taunting voice in my head burst through the lustful haze and has me snapping my eyes open. I yank my hand away from my pussy while immediately coming to my senses.

Jesus! What the hell am I doing?

Shame washes over me and I shut off the showerhead with rough movements. Pulling at the towel from the hook, I quickly dry myself off.

Even though the overwhelming emotions and sensations I felt at Nova’s forced proximity leave a wake of goosebumps on my skin.

It’s pathetic, really, that he’s the only man who’s ever gotten this close.

Taken this many liberties.

Held me possessively.

It leaves me curious and wanting more, not from him, though. And trust me, I’ve tried over the years. All those crappy first dates that showed up instead of straight-up ghosting have left me feeling like I’m too blunt for anybody to handle.

One thing I promised myself was that I’d never change for anybody, least of all a man.

Too bad the one who can handle my snarkiness is my villain and also the man I can never truly have. Unless I willingly want to burn and destroy myself in our mutual hatred.

Exactly why slippery moments like last night and this morning can never repeat.

It was a momentary lapse of judgement.

Nothing more.

Because there’s no way I could be attracted to Nova, right? I mean, it’s insane and impossible. I must really be starved for touch. Or those smutty novels I binge-read have seriously twisted my brain’s wires.

Throwing myself into my favorite pair of black denim jeans, I wear a black tube bra and over it, put on a silky and floral top with a simple knot in the middle. It leaves my midriff bare, making me feel cute yet sexy.

As soon as I’m done blow-drying my red curls into straight waves down my back, I leave the bedroom. Making my way to the open kitchen, I’m relieved to find it empty. There’s nothing but silence as cool breeze blows into the open expanse of the living room from the balcony.

Setting my phone on the counter, I survey the contents of the fridge, hoping to find some fruits to have as breakfast. I’ve never been able to handle heavy food first thing in the morning. Probably because my ass never leaves the bed before noon.

Don’t judge.

Humming to myself, I see some leftovers, a half-eaten sandwich and empty beer bottles. Gross. At least one section of the flat resembles a messy bachelor pad. Sadly, I see no fruit. Guess, I’ll have to—

“You ghosted me, trouble.”

I yelp, startled at Malcolm’s deep voice from behind me. “Malcolm!”

He quirks one eyebrow, looking smug and eyes highlighted with amusement while his lips stay in a firm line.

“Way to give a girl a heart attack,” I complain.

He shrugs one big shoulder, looking freshly showered in a plain white tee and gray sweatpants. “I thought you hated Nova. Yet you sneaked out with him.”

“I was given no choice in the matter.” I move back and lean against the counter as he rummages in the fridge. I hide my surprise when he magically pulls out a crate of eggs.

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