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This attraction wasn’t one-sided.
I could fuck her right now.
If she wanted me, too, why did I have to hold myself back? With a little more seduction, her body would accept me easily. Judging by the way she was looking at me, my advances would be welcomed.
Later. I shut down that line of thinking for the time being.
Taking Sofia’s virginity deserved more time and finesse than a quickie in my kitchen. I was well aware of her virginal status, because her father had used it as a bargaining chip to sweeten a lucrative business deal. Caesar had arranged her marriage to Pedro Ronaldo, the head of one of the Mexican cartels that helped traffic our cocaine from Colombia to the US. The marriage was meant to solidify the alliance between our organizations, and it further enriched Caesar.
As a dutiful daughter, Sofia might have agreed to the loveless match—I doubted she’d ever even met Ronaldo—but that didn’t mean I would allow her to go through with it. She was mine now, so the deal with Ronaldo was dead. He didn’t matter anymore.
I would fuck Sofia soon, but not before breakfast on her first day as my hostage. I needed to at least give her a little time to acclimate to the changes in her life, and I would put in the effort to learn all of her personal pleasure points before I took her virginity. I wanted her to love every second of surrendering herself to me for the first time.
Now that I’d experienced the heady sensation of her leaning into my touch without fear or reservations, I wouldn’t risk that. No matter how my body burned for her.
I forced myself to loosen my grip on her wrist. To make an excuse for my possessive touch, I lifted her hand and pressed the spatula into her palm.
“I promised to teach you how to scramble an egg,” I said, my voice rougher than I would have liked. “Let’s try this again.”
She beamed at me, her perfect smile hitting me square in the chest. “Okay. You’ve shown me how to burn an egg, so I know to avoid that in the future. What’s your next pro tip?”
Fuck, that sassy mouth made me want to bend her over the counter and take a wooden spoon to her ass. Then, she could use those lush lips to make amends for teasing me.
I cleared away the fantasy before I did something I’d regret. Sofia was attracted to me, but I was sure the innocent girl I’d obsessed over since we were teenagers wasn’t remotely prepared for that kind of play. I would have to take this slowly, even after I took her virginity.
Her effortless, easy trust was precious to me, and I didn’t want to lose it by pushing her too hard, too fast.
I’d waited five years for Sofia. I could wait a little while longer if it meant she would truly be mine.Chapter 6SofiaThis whole situation was too bizarre. Cooking with Mateo was actually fun.
Before this morning, I’d rarely seen him smile. He’d always been aloof, mysterious, and broodingly gorgeous.
Now, he smiled whenever I teased him, a sexy, indulgent smile. Although he was clearly amused, there was something darker in his eyes when he looked at me like that. He didn’t appear angry or cruel. Maybe…hungry was a better word to describe it.
Whatever it was, it made me feel all hot and shivery at the same time. I’d never experienced anything like it before, but around Mateo, it seemed to happen often. The sensation was new and foreign, but I liked it a lot.
“Finish your eggs,” he commanded, tipping his chin in the direction of my mostly-empty plate.
“I’m full,” I replied. “I don’t usually eat this much for breakfast. I’m more of a mocha latte and pastry to-go kind of girl.”
“Two more bites.”
I smirked at him. “Are you really negotiating with me about two bites of eggs?”
His smile was a touch more twisted than my own. “It’s not a negotiation. Go on. You didn’t eat enough yesterday. You need more calories this morning.”
I rolled my eyes, but I took a single bite to placate him. When I set down my fork, he fixed me with a hard stare. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but his eyes were still glinting with the strange intensity that made my blood heat.
“Fine,” I scoffed, polishing off the eggs as though I was somehow challenging him with my flippancy. I let my fork clatter onto the empty plate. “Are you happy now?”
“Yes.” His mouth quirked up at the corners. “I’m very happy you did as you were told. Good girl.”
I attempted to huff in irritation, but I had to press my lips together to suppress my own smile. “Not this again,” I complained.
“What? You don’t like being my good girl?”
God, why did his voice have to sound like pure sex when he said those two words? They were all deep and slow and rumbly. I could practically feel them caress my skin as palpably as his big hands had stroked me when he’d held me this morning.
