Page 36 of Twisted Little Game

“How do you do it?” I finally ask him as we get to the first floor landing. “Talk to the other guys so easily, acting like nothing is wrong?”

“I told you, I just enjoy people’s company. Even yours.”

“That’s a mistake,” I tell him.

“I have a question. And you have to be honest.”

I stop walking for a moment, and he freezes, too. I show him my free hand, tapping on the tattoo I have that says honestas.

“This means ‘honesty’ in Latin. I’m always honest.”

He bites his lower lip. “When you sent me that picture… the outline of your dick, did you think I was going to jerk off to it? Or were you just showing off?”

“Jesus fuck, Tate, we are not going to talk about my cock right now.”

He smiles a little. “I want to, though.”

“None of my business what you do with the picture, Blondin.”

He looks up at me, and his eyes make my blood flare with heat.

“Did you know I would come to it, Roman?” he insists.

I let his question hang in the air for a while, but then I relent, nodding.

“Yes.”

“Well, I did. It made me come really fucking hard, and I needed that. So thank you.”

A rush floods my body, ending at my cock.

God, what are you doing to me?

I hold his gaze for a moment before I walk off ahead of him, beckoning him to follow.

“Come on. Let’s go. I’m going to be late.”

6

Tate

I have no idea where Roman is taking me next.

We loop down into a parking lot at the bottom edge of campus and Roman stops in front of a giant, sleek black Escalade. He takes out a key and manually opens the passenger side door in front of me, then goes around to the driver’s side.

“Nice ride,” I tell him as I slide onto the cream leather passenger seat.

“Not my usual style. I normally like European cars, but the Escalade was a gift.”

“Damn, nice gift, then.”

“My cousin is very kind.”

His accent comes out as he says it. Sometimes his Russian influence sounds strong, and other times it’s barely audible. It seems like while his mind is occupied with other things, he’s less capable of holding his standard American accent.

I look over at him in the driver's side seat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask it. You don’t need to keep getting permission.”