Page 48 of Hostile Rival
“You fancy me.” He adds.
“No, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I do not,” I repeat, firmer.
With my pistol still aimed, his hand settles on my hip and featherlight fingertips trail lower, discovering the bare skin accessible by the high cut slit of my dress.
I’d chosen this particular style out of practicality. It helps me walk quicker or run if needed. Never did I imagine Matheus would use it to his advantage. But he does. He traces a shivery path under the fabric and stops a fraction of an inch away from my panties.
Somehow, my killer instincts don’t engage and my body melts for him, craving more. I must be losing my mind.
“Admit it,” he counters, full of confidence. “You’re hot for me, and you won’t pull that trigger because you'd rather come on my hand. Isn’t that right, little firecracker?”
He nudges his pelvis into my hip, alerting me to the thick, solid cock straining behind his zipper. I suck in, needing air, but not half as much as I crave this guy taking me hard and fast.
I want what I want, and the youngest, mystifying Souza, is not his father. That’s my rationale.
However, this tall, twenty something cartel killing machine could still be the death of me. If I let him. And right now, my stomach is fluttering. I’m not in control. He is.
Steadfast in my threat, I dig deep into my hatred for his family and use it to strengthen my self-discipline. I lift onto the balls of my feet, lean a little closer, and bring my mouth to the side of his face.
“Let’s test that theory of yours. Shall we, smartass?”
His pupils flare as he stares into my eyes, stripping me of the notion to retaliate with violence.
“Fighting talk is your way of talking dirty to me,” he teases at the very moment his fingers breach my panties. “And I fancy the fuck out of you, Dani.”
I can’t breathe.
His admission makes me want him even more.
Usually I control everything, but the vulnerability that whispers through me when he’s near speaks louder than all the reasons I shouldn't crave his dominance. I shouldn’t trust him to be gentle with me. Then again, the rest of the guys I’ve been with just didn’t cut it.
Fuck it.
The gun drops to the floor, and I mute my outward comms. My hands find the soft hair at his nape, yanking his head lower to taste his wet mouth again.
I moan into his mouth as his hand works me into a frenzy. The combination feels so good. Not overly demanding or uncomfortable, but just right.Tooright.
Breaking away, he rears backward and removes his hand from the apex of my thighs. Matheus presses two fingers to my sternum and backs me into the wall, predatory in the way he looks at me.
“This won’t end well,” I assure him, dark desire getting the better of me when I grab onto his satin lapels, drag his jacket off his shoulders to reveal a fitted holster and matte black handgun. “I promise you.”
“Shut the fuck up, little firecracker.”
Matheus’ hands are on me, bunching the fabric of my dress to my hips and dragging the stretchy material lower so my bare breasts pop out at his rough request.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
His mouth moves over mine, his lips soft, yet the pressure he uses is hard.
“I’m being realistic.” I pant into his mouth, groaning when he expertly tears my skimpy lace panties right off.
“Fuck being realistic. The only thing that’s real right now is this.” His fingers slide through my slick heat. “Tell me you want my dick inside of your wet little cunt.”
A moan escapes me when his finger dives inside, followed by a second. I can’t focus on anything else. Not the noisy people wandering along the corridors beyond the door, or the voices in my earpiece telling me they don’t have eyes on Matheus.
