Page 63 of Siren's Game

"But I like gruesome," I protest weakly, more because I feel like I have to than actually wanting to continue watching it.

I might like our little teasing fights more than I’m ready to admit.

"Well, I can only be reminded of how much people suck in small doses." He chuckles, his thigh moving under my head. "Help me keep my faith in humanity."

"Okay, that's valid," I say, my whole body still tense.

"How about," he scrolls through the streaming service until he finds the remake of a cartoon movie I know from my childhood, "this one?"

It's simple, has cute visuals, and an easy enough storyline that I’ve seen hundreds of times already. "Sure."

"Great." He puts it on, then halts the movie immediately. "Lift your head, Sweetheart; I got us ice cream."

I perk up, suddenly feeling better.

"I hate to admit it, but you're a God-send," I say and lift myself up with a groan, watching him walk away with cheeks red like a tomato.

Just what the hell is going on here?

This whole thing is built on a fake foundation. There was no need for him to come here, much less with groceries and especially not dessert or sweets. There are no cameras here, and nobody who would post it to social media. This doesn't fit our plan.

Yet he still calls me Sweetheart, and it doesn’t even sound like he’s trying to rile me up with it. He still brought me ice cream and now he’s fetching it for me from the kitchen.

That scares the fuck out of me.

Hescares the fuck out of me.

He's gaining my trust way too quickly, especially after the whole movie fiasco. Petty grudge one way or the other, when did I get over that so quickly?

Then again, how could I even hate a person who got me ice cream, a cute plush and painkillers while I'm on my period? That can't be humanly possible.

But I don't need my heart to beat this quickly for him, like, ma'am can you please calm down?

He returns with one tub and one spoon and I raise my eyebrow at him confused. He ignores me, though, and only motions for me to lift my head again.

I do as told and he sits down, my head immediately returns to his thigh. At least this time he doesn't catch me by surprise. I’m even starting to relax.

And honestly, his thigh is surprisingly comfortable. It's big and I know that's muscle, but it's not bony at all. It’s kind of squishy. Like a warm, denim-y pillow.

He restarts the movie and pries the tub of ice cream open. Before I can lecture him about not getting me some, he digs the spoon in, then holds it in front of my mouth.

"I can eat by myself, you know?" I ask him but open my mouth for him. God, he even got my favorite flavor. Did he also get that from the internet?

"I know you can," is his soft answer as he digs the spoon back into the tub and eats that one himself.

I blush. There's something weirdly intimate about him using the same spoon for both of us.

Indirect kisses. Which is ridiculous considering what else we’ve done.

It catapults my thoughts back to the match. And the night after.

Fuck.

Good thing I'm not a guy because if I were, he'd be having a wonderful view of my boner.

That was one of the sexiest sexes I’ve had. I love my silicone toys, but they are not a match for him in the slightest.

My mouth opens up without him prompting me to when he moves the spoon to my mouth again. By now I'm actually impressed that none of the ice cream has just fallen onto my face, the couch or the ground, but apparently, he's a very good spoon handler.

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