Page 31 of Hate Game

“My dad will rip me a new asshole if anything happens to you.”

“And here I thought you truly cared for my safety.” Instead, he is concerned with getting into the good graces of his parents. Not that I blame him.

“I do care, Rue.”

“Not enough. Otherwise, you would have said something rather than scare me.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

“You don’t owe me. Forget what I said.” I twist out of his hold and hurry down the path.

“Why are you dressed like that when it’s cold as fuck?” He calls after me.

I cross my arms across my chest. Without a bra on, my nipples poke against the thin fabric of my tank top. Without curves that keep my pants up, my PJ bottoms ride low on my hips. “I get hot easily. That’s why I wouldn’t need your extra stinking blankets.”

“That’s right. It’s the dead of winter, and you’ll be wearing tank tops, T-shirts, and short ass shorts that hug your ass cheeks. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

I stop dead in my tracks. “What does that mean exactly?” I march over to him and jab my finger into his chest. “If you’re accusing my mom of being a whore, I’m going to?—”

He crowds my space. “You’re gonna what, Regret?”

My temper flares hot. Shaking inside, I fist my fingers in his hair, bring him down to me, and slide my lips over his. He sucks in a breath, and I take advantage. I slip my tongue inside his mouth. Our tongues tangle. I taste the walls of his mouth and run the tip of my tongue over his teeth.

The kiss is urgent. All consuming. Unrelenting. How dare he test my temper? How dare he goad me? I tug on his hair. He groans beneath the onslaught of my tongue and my fingers.

Lost in the sounds of his need rumbling against my chest as he pulls me against his large body, I nip on Malice’s bottom lip, then suck his bottom lip into my mouth.

He tastes good, sweet, and minty, like the toothpaste I used before heading for bed. Needing to feel his heat, I plaster myself to him. His hand grips my hip. His fingers dig into my flesh. A moan slips from my core.

“Malice.” God, I miss kissing a guy. I miss kissing Malice.

“Rue, we gotta stop,” he says in between kisses. “Or else?—”

“Or else what?” I blink up at him, dazed.

“Or else we’ll hate one another more for taking this too far. You hate me. I hate you. Remember?”

I steady myself with my palms on his chest. Malice’s eyes are hooded, and his full lips are parted. Were it daylight, I bet the arches of his cheeks would be flushed.

“You’re right. I hate the way you kiss, Malice. Selfish. Greedy.Needy. You are so not my type.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grabs my shoulders and turns me until we’re facing the way back to his place. “I hate the way you kiss too. Of all the girls I’ve kissed, hands down, you are theworst, Regret. Too desperate.Eager.”

He saddles his arm across my shoulders and tugs me close. We walk back to his place hip to hip. I lean into his warmth.

I understand what he’s doing. I’m burning up from the inside out, yet he’s concerned I’m freezing my ass off. I would say he’s a nice guy; except I can’t forget how he hurt me with his words or that he went from hot to cold in a heartbeat.

For the moment, this is his nice guy side, but come tomorrow, when I go where he goes, the broody jerk hidden underneath the nice guy will come out to play.

When he does, I’ll be ready.

11

MALICE

Iwake up with morning wood from hell. Scrubbing my palm over my face, I beeline for the bathroom. The door is shut. What the…? I turn the knob.Locked. Everything comes back to me. The party by the lake. The fire. My parents’ intervention. Rue and that damn kiss of hers.

Everything I wanted to feel for other girls, I felt for Rue with only a kiss. Blood coursed through my veins. Anticipation kicked extra beats in my heart. Every nerve in my body stood on end.

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