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Whether I wanted to fuck him or murder him, I couldn’t deny that Mateo was a stunningly exotic man. He was always immaculately put together, and the mask he wore so well had yet to slip and reveal the secrets he kept so guarded.
Standing before him with un-brushed hair, my skimpy club dress, complete lack of drawers, and slim heels, I knew I looked a hot damn mess.
The hand shaped bruises imprinted on my thighs served as a reminder of our indiscretions less than twenty-four hours ago. I could still smell him on my skin, feel him between my legs, and taste him on my lips.
Swallowing, I went to speak but he beat me to the punch.
“I apologize, that took me a little longer than expected. You must be famished.”
“Are you…are you serious?” The nerve of him floored me. “I don’t want any fucking food—”
“Watch your mouth,” he harshly interjected.
Exhaling a soft breath, I went for a sweeter approach. My father always did say you got more with sugar than you did with vinegar.
“I’m sorry. I just want to know where my sister is and what these papers mean.” I held up the manila folder in case he’d magically forgotten what I was referring to in his absence.
He didn’t respond, continuing to leer down at me with an intrusive gaze. I accepted the silent challenge to not look away.
It was a task all in itself. He overwhelmed me just by breathing the same air as I did.
The prickling of my skin had nothing to do with him staring at me, and everything to do with the way he was looking at me.
There was something predatory lurking in his eyes. It was possessive and angry, making it hard to differentiate whether he wanted to devour me whole or simply tear out my throat.
It made me contemplate that maybe I was right when I’d thought I’d been wrong about who he was.
I’d always considered my intuition a gift, a voice of clarity that had never let me down. Right now, it was telling me to slowly back away from him and get someplace safe.
I’d ignored it weeks ago when I was faced with the extensive red warning label affixed to his persona. Now, it was speaking again.
“What is it you want me to say?” he finally asked.
“I want you to stop pretending everything is fine! You left me in a hotel room, destroyed my car, and lied to me about my sister.”
His laugh was full of scorn.
“Outside of the game, I lied about nothing.”
He reached out and gripped the back of my neck, making me grimace. I found myself flush against him with the folder slipping away.
“Playing the victim card will get you no sympathy from me. If you had any idea of the things going through my head right now…” He paused and shook his head, sinking his teeth down on his lower lip. “The things I want to do to you would make your worst nightmares seem like sugarcoated fantasies.”
I swallowed any smart-ass retorts before they could recklessly fly out of my mouth. My stomach rocked like a ship stuck in a violent storm.
Peering up at him through my lashes, I caught the briefest glimpse of how upset he truly was. That was never my intention. I never wanted him
to be hurt or angry, especially because of me.
“I’m not playing the victim, Mateo. I only want to know where my sister is.”
“Then why didn’t you just ask me that, Ley?”
“Because…” The simplicity of his question made me momentarily feel like a fool…until I recalled the fact he had lied by omission. “Because you wouldn’t have told me the truth!” I shoved against his chest, catching myself off guard when he let go.
He caught me by the forearm with a cocky smirk tilting one side of his luscious mouth. Pulling free, I played it off by retrieving my folder from the floor.
His hand came to rest on the back of my head, firmly yet gently keeping me down almost on my knees and eye level with his zipper.
