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“Clearly you consider me a pushover.”
“I don’t think?—”
“Of course you do. But let me make one thing very, very clear. My submissiveness begins and ends at the door to the bedroom. Got it?”
He scowled, responding through gritted teeth. “Got it.”
“So if this is just sex, then I’m going to get my money’s worth, going to use you every bit as much as you use me. And then I’m getting my own room.”
Matt looked ready to argue that last point, but she didn’t give him the chance.
Once again, she walked away from him, crossing the suite to the bedroom. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she pulled her T-shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor. Matt’s lack of patience rivaled hers, three buttons to his shirt already unfastened.
“Take off those shorts,” he demanded irritably, even though her fingers were already working the button free.
She narrowed her eyes, even as she did as he said. Guess she didn’t have to like Matt Russo to follow his commands and let him fuck her brains out.
Liza stripped off the rest of her clothes, her bra—the last article to come off—falling to the floor. Matt was completely naked a split second later.
“Come here.” He crooked a finger at her.
She didn’t move. Kept her feet planted right where they were. This might just be sex, but that didn’t mean she was going to make it easy for him.
“Liza,” Matt growled. “I don’t repeat myself.”
Every instinct inside responded to that tone, told her to do as he said, and that was when she realized exactly how deeply ingrained her submissive tendencies were.
However, Liza was thirty years old with a list of lackluster lovers as long as her arm. She was no stranger to ignoring her desires.
She was also still pissed as fuck. So she remained where she was.
“Make me,” she taunted.
A smile—a wholly unpleasant smile—crossed Matt’s face. “Is this your attempt at payback? You’re pissed off that I’m not pretending to be Prince fucking Charming?”
Liza crossed her arms, aware the position pushed her breasts up, something Matt took more than a few moments to enjoy.
Tit. For. Tat.
“Answer me,” he barked.
She gave him the brattiest grin she could produce and then shook her head, her lips closed tightly.
“You want to play, kitten?”
Oh God, where did that nickname come from, and why was it so deadly to her restraint?
Matt stalked toward her. “Then let’s play. Just remember what I said in the restaurant. Russos always come out on top.”
Matt’s expression told her there could only be one alpha in this room, and he knew it would be him.
Sadly, she did too.
Gripping her upper arm, he dragged her to the bed, unceremoniously shoving her face down on the mattress. “Safe word?”
“Red,” she replied, though hell would freeze over before she used it.
Matt held her down with one hand on her upper back, the other spanking every inch of her ass and thighs until she was gasping for breath.
