Page 16 of Pretty Hostage


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I huffed my irritation at his high-handedness, but the bathroom door thumped shut again before I could consider a retort.

Thankfully, he exited the bathroom right before my stomach rumbled loudly. I didn’t need my traitorous body to prove his point and validate his overbearing behavior.

But I was hungry.

I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off quickly. I’d mostly managed to keep my hair out of the spray. Although I longed to wash and style it, I was worried that I’d only make it worse by dousing it in the shower without my usual products to set the curls properly.

Careful to avoid my reflection in the fogged mirror—I didn’t want to see my beloved curls in such disarray—I reached for the clothes Mateo had set out for me. My eyes widened when I unfolded his black, cotton t-shirt. I’d seen him wear shirts like this plenty of times, and I always thought of them as almost indecently tight. But without the massive man to fill it out, the garment appeared to be made with more fabric than one of my sundresses.

I tugged it over my head, and the soft material slid down my body, falling all the way to my knees.

Holy shit. Given my silly infatuation, I’d always been very aware that Mateo was big and brawny. But wearing his enormous shirt really put his size into perspective.

I eyed the sweatpants that were folded on the counter. The notion that they might somehow stay on my hips was utterly ridiculous.

Sighing, I glanced down at my body. The baggy t-shirt didn’t expose an inch of my thighs, which I always kept carefully hidden. It actually covered me far more modestly than some of the cocktail dresses I owned.

I usually wear underwear beneath even my most daring cocktail dresses, though.

My cheeks heated at the thought of walking around without underwear. Even if there was no one here to see me but Mateo, it was still a discomfiting prospect.

I swallowed hard. Actually, being alone with Mateo without wearing panties was probably worse than going commando at a party. No one at a party would know. The man waiting for me in the bedroom was fully aware that I didn’t have anything covering my sex.

“Come on out, Sofia,” Mateo prompted, his impossibly deep voice penetrating the door. “I’m hungry, too.”

I took a breath and braced myself to face him. He might be bossy, but he’d been kind to me so far. It would be inconsiderate of me to delay his breakfast if he was hungry. I hated the circumstances that had brought me into his house, but I didn’t hate Mateo. He hadn’t given me cause to be cruel to him.

When I opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, Mateo made a strange sound, almost like a growl. I froze, finding myself trapped in his dark stare again. How could he make me feel shivery and hot at the same time?

“What happened to the sweatpants?” he asked on a rasp. His eyes trailed over my body, fixing on my bare legs before pausing somewhere around my navel.

I tried not to squirm, but I felt like I might as well be standing naked before him. Heat flashed through my body, and my skin pebbled.

Mateo’s eyes lifted to my chest, and another odd, strangled sound rumbled from him.

I peeked down at myself, mortified to realize that my nipples were hard buds, and they were all too visible against the soft material of Mateo’s shirt. My arms flew to my chest, crossing over my breasts to hide the embarrassing display.

“The sweatpants won’t fit me,” I mumbled, my cheeks flaming.

He ran a hand over his face and drew in a shuddering breath. At least he wasn’t looking at my nipples anymore.

“I’ll figure out a way to get you some clothes that fit properly,” he said, his voice more strained that I’d ever heard before.

“Thanks.” I shifted on my feet, feeling very awkward and still far too hot.

He jerked his head to the side, breaking eye contact as he started walking out of the bedroom and into the hall.

“Come on,” he urged. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

I heard him mutter something under his breath as I followed after him. It sounded suspiciously like a curse word.

Clearly, I wasn’t the only one bothered by my state of undress.Chapter 5Mateo“What are you doing?” Sofia asked as I retrieved a mixing bowl and frying pan from the kitchen cabinet.

“I figured I’d make scrambled eggs,” I replied. “Do you like eggs? I have bacon, too.”

I glanced over to where she was sitting at my kitchen island. Thankfully, I couldn’t see her bare legs anymore. But she leaned forward on her elbows, watching me with open curiosity. The position made the neckline of my t-shirt gape open, offering me a tantalizing glimpse at her chest.

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