Page 59 of Sinful Games

I reached out and grabbed her cold hand, pressing it against my lips.

She held my hand for a moment before pulling away, wrapping her fingers around her tea mug and blowing on it to cool it down.

She gripped my hand for a moment before letting go, cupping her tea with both hands and blowing on it gently. “It’s just part of the job, really. Old people pass away, and we clean up their rooms. The next day, someone new comes in, like the previous person never existed.”

She went silent, and for a brief second, the weight of her pain was all too clear in her eyes. But then, like she’d realized she’d revealed too much, she lifted her cup back to her lips, her face going completely blank again.

“Anyway,” she said, her tone turning icy, “I guess this isn’t the kind of thing your cold, dead heart would give a damn about.”

Death was a fucking constant in my life and job—something that could show up on my doorstep any damn day. So, even my cold, dead heart knew all too well how it could rip apart families, wreck wives, and shatter friends.

“Sometimes, death’s a relief, especially for those who’ve been suffering,” I said, my voice low and rough. “I remember this news story we saw once—a woman who died in a car crash right after finding out her only son was killed by her ex."

By dying, I guess that poor woman avoided a whole lot of grief and misery.

"Yeah, that’s true," she replied, her gaze distant as she sipped her tea.

Her damp hair fell loosely around her face as she let it tumble out of its messy bun. Without makeup, she looked incredibly youthful, her tiny freckles and soft emerald eyes standing out.

I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Try your dessert."

She straightened up, deliberately avoiding my gaze, and reached for her spoon. But before she could get her hands on it, I snatched both spoons away. I wanted to feed her. I scooped up a generous bite of berries and pavlova and brought it to her lips. A flush crept up her cheeks as she hesitated for a moment before parting her lips. The spoon slipped between her lips, and she let out a soft sigh as her eyes fluttered closed.

"Good?"

She nodded, covering her mouth with a hand.

I scooped up another bite of the dessert and held it out to her. Her eyes met mine, flashing with a mix of doubt and simmering anger, but she still opened her mouth. The spoon slipped between her lips, and she closed them around it tightly.

Fuck.

Impatient, I tossed the spoon aside and tilted her chin up, closing the gap between us—but of course, she turned her head.

Then she looked up at me, her eyes colder than I'd ever seen them.

“I doubt you want to kiss apatheticanddesperategirl, Romaniev,” she muttered, her voice laced with a bitter edge. “I expected you to have a little more dignity than that.”

I smirked, leaning in even closer, not giving her an inch to escape. “I meant gorgeous andflawless.”

Her eyes narrowed. "Well, I still find you overwhelmingly ugly."

I let out a low, dark chuckle, leaning in closer until my lips brushed against her neck. "Good," I muttered against her skin, the heat of her pulse thrumming beneath my lips. I took in her scent, slow and deep, before trailing soft, teasing kisses along the side of her neck. Her breath hitched, sharp and quick, as she instinctively tilted her head to the side, exposing more of herself to me.

"And I still think you're an overbearing, arrogant, insufferable asshole," she muttered, but the way her body leaned into mine told a different story entirely.

I grazed my teeth lightly along her throat, making her shudder as her fingers curled into my shirt. "Funny, because for someone who thinks I'm such an asshole," I murmured against her skin, "you're not doing a damn thing to stop me."

Before she could get another word out, I gripped her chin and crashed my mouth against hers. She resisted for a second, her lips tight like she was daring me to push harder—and I did. My tongue teased her bottom lip, and that was it. She gave in, parting her lips, sweet as hell, tasting like strawberries, but this wasn’t sweet. This was hunger. Raw, messy, and pulling us both under. Her fingers wrapped around my wrist, gripping tight like she needed this as much as I did. Our tongues twisted, each stroke heavier, darker, pulling us deeper into something we couldn’t pull away from, even if we wanted to.

“Romaniev,” she gasped, nails biting into my wrist like she still had some fight left. “We can’t?—”

I pressed a finger to her lips, smirking.Can’t? Yeah, right.

I could feel her trembling against me, and almost see the little devil on her shoulder practically jump up and down, finally getting what it had been begging for.

Yep. Caia wanted this as much as I did, even if she couldn’tadmit it. I could see it in her eyes—how badly she wanted to hold her ground, but I knew I was about to wreck that. And hell, did I love watching her break.

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