Page 27 of Hate Game

“It can’t be.” I smile back.

“What?” His smile widens, and damn it, those dimples make an appearance.

I stare at his mouth. “Two apologies back-to-back. You’re on a roll.”

His gaze dips to my lips. “Is the third time a charm?”

“Maybe.” I lick my lips, my mouth dry from his rampant attention.

“I’m sorry.” He tucks pieces of my hair behind my ear. The caress is gentle and intimate.

“Do you do that with other girls?”

“What, this?” He does the other side.

“Yes,” I say, out of breath from his touch.

“Just you.” He curves his body over mine and runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of my ear. I shiver. “You have so much goddamn hair.”

“It takes forever to wash and blow dry.”

“I can bury my face in it and die happy.”

What he said was cliché, but I couldn’t care less. “Really?” I am dizzy from his closeness and how well we fit, his body wrapping around mine perfectly.

“Really.” Warm fingers trail a path behind my ear and down my jawline. A tingle runs up and down my spine. Needing to feel closer to him, I arch my back and tuck my ass into his groin. He groans, and I moan with contentment.

“It feels that good, huh?”

“Youfeelthatgood,” I clarify.

“The smallest things turn you on.”

He’s right, and he knows it. Malice leaves me breathless and warm in my tank top and PJ bottoms hung low on my hips as he trails his finger from my temple to the jut of what my mother calls my regrettably stubborn chin.

He continues to stoke the heat inside me when he strokes up and down my arm. Desire shoots to my sex, and pressure builds between my legs.

I can imagine it now.

One flick from his finger on my clit, two licks over my slit from his rough tongue, three fingers deep inside me, pumping in and out of my wetness… I hang my head and close my eyes. My breathing is shallow. My breasts hang heavy with need. The place between my legs throbs for release.

“Only you do it for me, Malice,” I rasp.

“Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Should I do something else that gets you hot for me?”

I could never say no to him. I nod.

“That’s not enough, Rue.”

“I would never refuse you.”

With me on my hands and knees and his large body curved over mine, Malice reaches under my hair and runs his fingers through the strands. His hands are big, and his fingers are thick. They are strong and capable of holding the weight of my hair. Grasping onto the strands, he guides me to a sitting position on his lap. His erection rubs against my butt crack through our clothes. I move back and forth over the outline. A moan slips from deep within my core.

“Fuck, Rue. The noises you make.”

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