Page 20 of Vicious Games

Usually, when there was silence between us, it was the calm before the violent thunderstorm. This was different. It was just… silence… and it was freaking me out.

After taking a few more bites of fish, I set the order to the side of me on the bench and lightly brushed my fingertips over my lips to dislodge any salt kernels that had stuck to my lipstick. I angled my knees toward Roman. “Okay, what’s your game?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder but said nothing. He returned to eating.

“I don’t know what’s happening, but,” I gestured between us, “this, whatever this is, isn’t us.”

He crumpled up his empty wax paper, raised his arm and tossed it in the bin several feet away. He then settled his arm on the back of the bench and turned to face me. “What do you mean?”

His facial expression was serene as he quirked his eyebrow as if in confusion. I wasn’t buying it. I wasn’t the crazy one here, although he often made me question my sanity.

“This! This isn’t normal. Well, it is normal,” I blustered, “but not normal for us. We don’t do cute dates in the park with takeaway food.”

“Are you not having fun?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Tossing the blanket and his jacket off my shoulders, I rose and paced in front of him. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Roman leaned back, stretching both arms over the back of the bench, looking like the Cheshire cat with his mock-innocent gaze. “Doing what, my love?”

Once again, I gestured wildly between us. “This! Acting all normal and boyfriend-y and shit.” I stretched out my hand and counted off on my fingers. “Not yelling at me after what happened in the restaurant.” I tapped the end of another finger. “Calling me your girlfriend.” I tapped a third finger. “Taking me to Leicester Square to eat food from a freaking cart as if that is something you do every day.”

Roman raised his arm and waved to Hamish, who waved back. “Well, not every day, but…”

I shook my head as I planted my fists on my hips. “No. Nope. Not a chance. I’m not buying it. Roman Winterbourne as a normal guy? Please. What are you up to?”

Roman sighed as he brushed salt off his trousers. “Aurora, will you please sit down? You are causing a scene and people are staring.”

I stamped my foot. I knew I looked like a petulant child, but I didn’t care. “I will not sit down, and you can’t make me!”

In one swift move, Roman rose, wrapped his arm around my waist, and spun me around until my back was against a large, ancient oak tree. It partially concealed us behind its wide trunk.

He braced his forearm against the tree and leaned over me. He stroked my cheek with the backs of his knuckles before wrapping his hand around my throat. His lips brushed mine when he spoke. “I knew it. Admit it, baby girl. You like the monster.”

I opened my mouth to object but shut it when he gently squeezed my throat.

“Don’t try to deny it. I disappointed you when I didn’t tear this fucking dress off your body and whip you with my belt the moment you came down those stairs this evening.”

My eyes widened. Once again, it was as if he had read my deepest, most twisted inner thoughts.

I couldn’t make a response, but he didn’t expect one.

He shifted closer, pressing his hips against my stomach. The feel of his erection only highlighting the danger I was in. I didn’t think for a moment that all these people around us would stop Roman from flipping up my dress and fucking me senseless.

He ruthlessly continued, “You like being dominated and punished.”

At this, I finally spoke up. My voice hitched and cracked. “No, I don’t.”

His tongue flicked out and traced my bottom lip. “You’re lying. You enjoyed knowing you were pushing me to the edge at the restaurant. You knew that asshole would follow you to the restroom.”

“I didn’t! I swear!”

As if I hadn’t spoken, he continued, his tone getting harsher. “You’re a bloodthirsty little wench. Begging another man for rent money in France. Making a spectacle of yourself in this dress so some stranger would hit on you. Tossing aside the blanket I used to cover you and then making yet another scene, hoping some man would buy into your damsel in distress routine and challenge me. It’s all to get a reaction from me.”

My head swam. He was turning things around. It was he who liked to play games, not me. Why was what he was saying sounding so logical? I shook my head.

He bit down on my earlobe before saying, “Is that what you want, baby? Did it turn you on to see me take care of that bastard back at the restaurant?”

He reached under my dress hem and palmed my pussy.

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