Page 43 of Twisted Little Game

Roman lets out a long, slow sigh. “I know I couldn’t. But you would.”

They pause for a few beats. My heart is racing in my chest as I see what they’re actually talking about, and I glance over, making sure Roman’s peripheral vision is nowhere near my phone screen. But his gaze is fully on the road ahead.

As they start to talk again, I look back down at my screen.

“You like?” Maks asks. “Blond boy has big attitude.”

“No.”

They’re talking about me.

I keep my eyes glued to my phone.

“You don’t hate him, though,” Maks replies.

“I respect him. But I don’t like him.”

I hear Maks laugh softly. “He annoys you?”

“Flirts too much. He wants my cock.”

“Everyone does. That gigantic fucking snake under your pants, Roman⁠—”

Both of them laugh softly at that, and Roman nods. I see a slight, faint smile on his lips that disappears quickly.

And then he glances over at me.

Just for a quick moment, with a different sort of hunger in his eyes that makes my cock harden.

Holy fuck.

Raw fear is still coursing through my veins from the first parts of the conversation I saw translated. I let myself look over at Roman again. When he reaches a hand low to adjust the bulge in his pants, my eyes travel downward.

And when the sun hits it just right, I see it.

Unmistakably.

The outline of his cock through the dark denim, just as hard as he looked in the photo he sent me.

He’s so fucking big, and I already knew that, but it’s a whole lot different to see it in person than in a picture.

He glances back over and I remember that I have the translator app still open on my phone. I fumble with it, pulling it back too quickly, and it accidentally slips onto the floor of the car.

It thuds as it lands.

“You okay, Tate?” he asks.

“I’m great. Peachy, really,” I tell him, scrambling to pick up my phone. “Just suddenly wondering if I’m going to get shot today. No big deal.”

“Relax. You are safe,” Roman mutters. “There is nowhere safer you could be than in this car with me and Maks.”

“Where are we going next?”

“Dropping Maks off at Capp’s.”

“Who the fuck is Capp?”

He glances at me. “It’s a diner, Tate. No gunshots. I promise.”