Page 3 of Hostile Rival
I dump my rucksack on the closest bed, sit to unpick my boot laces, and strip off my black t-shirt. When I rise to my full six-foot something height, I catch sight of my reflection in a simple framed mirror hung over a chest of drawers.
A thick golden chain hangs around my neck and tanned muscles look pumped from the hardcore workout I did half an hour ago, right before Giovanni had told me tonight is initiation night.
Souza dark hair is shaved at the sides with the longer strands on top hanging to my eyebrows in messy bangs. I finger the lengths back off my face, feeling my solid gold bracelet shimmy further down my wrist.
I take a deep breath and stare at the features of a guy I don’t know anymore. One day, the light inside of me just went out. From then on, everything felt mundane and repetitive.
Underneath the excessive partying and constant studying, who the fuck am I?
Next to come off are my boxer briefs. I fist my unenthused dick, half thinking this would be the perfect opportunity to jerk off.
Despite being alone, I can’t get a rise out of the thing. For the past year, it’s had a mind of its own. Sometimes growing rock hard and others it’s just meh, not needing a specific reason to stay deflated.
At first, I’d thought it was my regular cocaine consumption at fault, then the liquor I typically knock back on the wild nights. I even blamed naughty girls for being too available.
There’s no challenge for me anymore. No chase. No thrill. Everything comes too easy.
Alongside blowing up my father’s lofty expectations of his youngest son becoming a lawyer, I’ve had to quit all the fun stuff and even scratched party girls off my list of playthings. Somehow, I’ll figure out what makes me tick as I go.
I stalk across the room and fling open the door to the adjoining bathroom, freezing immediately.
Jesus fuck! Standing in front of a ceramic, hand-painted tile wall, there’s a naked woman staring right at me. Her gray eyes are wide, white teeth bared, and the tips of her mid-length bobbed hairstyle hemorrhaging water onto dainty shoulders.
Immediately, she darts sideways and grabs the switchblade sitting next to a stack of rolled towels. A shiny blade springs out as she advances, her tits entering my space.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” she hisses, holding the knife up to my face.
“Your room?” I correct my stance and fold my arms, aware of the sudden heat scorching my veins.
Thisis Buffalo?
2
MATHEUS
“I was assigned to this room as of five minutes ago.”
I step into her, smelling freshly washed hair, and she shoves me, pressing the blade against my neck.
I cock a brow at her. “Threatening me is a joke, right?”
I’m not used to hostile women. It’s kind of refreshing. Her eyes narrow and her gaze slips, wandering over my bare chest. “Am I laughing?”
The instinct to protect myself is on hold while a crazy, heart-pounding rush takes over. It’s the most intense kick I’ve felt in months.
My belly is coiled and the blood hissing in my veins shoots straight to my dick. It’s surprisingly swollen and standing to attention all because Buffalo is awoman—undressed and soaking wet.
It isn’t a thirst for danger making my pulse thrum. No, I could easily have her flat on her ass in three seconds, but something stops me.
And I’m definitely not spooked by the sharp blade next to my jugular. More turned on and curious about the electric vibe between us.
However, it's safe to say this is simply intrigue for the soldier who had my back a few weeks ago. After all, the gorgeous female before me also happens to work for my family’s rival.
Had she not noticed the gun pointed at my head in Blackwater’s library, I’d be dead.
Although in my world, nothing is straightforward. Blanco had probably set the whole thing up, and the guy she shot was a sacrifice for their greater cause.
Or maybe this fascination is all about the ink on her bicep. The black and white shaded artwork of a face––hersto be precise, wearing a strip of fabric directly over her eyes with full pouty lips to match the ones she’s licking as I stare.
