Page 57
Chapter 57 of "Tempting Venom" starts here: And take away my favorite new fixation? Donāt do that. In return, Iāll give you... Discover what happens next!
And take away my favorite new fixation? Donāt do that. In return, Iāll give you a chance to get back at me.
Iām not falling for that.
I mean it. Weāll have a one-on-one game. Just you and me.
Why?
Because you obviously still have unresolved feelings for me, and this could fix it.
I have NO feelings for you.
If you say so.
I do NOT.
I believe you. No need for caps.
You truly are entertaining.
Pay me for brightening your boring life.
I donāt have much money, but I can pay you with something else.
Whoās the whore now?
I can be that for you. Anyway, back to the one-on-one. Are we on? Itād be a nice workout before tomorrowās games. I could use some last-minute practice.
Youāre doing this for practice?Donāt you have any friends on the Wolves you can practice with? So sad.
Yeah. Iām so lonely. See you at the Wolvesā arena?
Iām not coming to that shithole.
Then Iāll come find you, baby.
This was a bad idea.
Likeā¦Olympic-level bad.
I have no clue what I was thinking when I didnāt immediately refuse to let Osborn come here, but clearly, my brain cells were not in attendance, because now, itās too late.
Heās here. The motherfucker.
Black compression shirt glued to him like itās legally required to act as his second skin, stretched over broad shoulders and a wide chest. No pads except the elbow ones. And when he glides toward me, his shirt rides up just enough to flash the line of his abs.
And Iāmabsolutely,totally,definitelynot looking at that or doing anything else equally deranged.
Nope. Not me.
āFancy rink,ā he drawls in that aggravating, provocative way he speaks, not studying his surroundings as his words suggest, and, instead, fully focused on me.
Heās sporting bruises from when I punched him in the forest. Not as dark as mine, but theyāre there, little souvenirs from that whole disaster.
And he justā¦keeps watching me. Intently. Unblinking. Like heās trying to snap my entire existence straight into his brain.
The longer he stares, the tighter something coils inside me, winding around my lungs until breathing becomesstrained.
Iām starting to think I despise his eyes. Those dark grays that look like smoke mixed with night. Even under the bright rink lights, they remain unreadable and infuriatingly mysterious.