Page 21 of Hostile Rival
Picking myself up, I get to my feet, turn on the bedside lamp, and grab the phone, quickly tapping off the flashlight. “Only if you tell me what all that was about?”
She swallows loudly, clearly thirsty. “Nothing.”
“That was notnothing.”
“Stop with the questions, Mat. Mind your own business.”
“I would, had I not been rudely woken by a blood-curdling howl in the middle of the night.” I half joke. “You scared the shit out of me, and I don’t scare easily. Night terrors are definitely something you should warn a guy about before sharing a room.”
“Poor baby,” she mocks, sounding a bit more like herself. But she’s still shook up, gnawing the side of her fingernail, trying to recover.
“You going to sit there for the rest of the night, or––” I fold my arms, wanting to hug her, or whatever.
She glares at me, her breathing regulating while her legs visibly twitch. “I’ll sit where I want. It’s my room, remember?”
“Fine.” I’m next to her in four strides, lowering to my haunches, and scooping her into my arms. Her body tenses as she tries to fight me. But this time, I’m determined, and too fucking strong to let her win. “Don’t fight against me, little firecracker. Not tonight.”
She looks at me from her cradled position and shivers, something unreadable passing behind her eyes. “I have legs, you know. And a gun.”
“You don’t have to use either when I’ve got you.”
She snorts softly and I feel myself smiling. “Wow, Mat…that was really smooth. Now I get why all the women fall for you. It's the corny one liners.”
Truthfully, I don't know why I said that. It’s not my style. The bullshit started in my brain and spilled past my lips when I should have censored every word.
Being around this woman knocks me off balance and I’ve found myself thinking all sorts of weird shit about her.
I inhale deeply, imagining my mouth brushing over hers. I’d love to know what’s running through her mind too, especially when she licks her lips as if she’s craving the same thing.
Lust swells within me, and I do my best to squash it.
“And just so we’re clear, you don’t have me.” She adds, a little breathy. “So, why the hell do you keep touching me?”
“It’s a bad habit.” I smirk.
“Or you want to die?” she counters. “I said no touching, and I meant it.”
“This isn’t really touching. I’m just removing you from the bedroom in whatever manner I see fit.”
“Really?” she scoffs. “And you call yourself smart.”
“I don’t need to call myself anything when it all comes naturally.” I wink at her, loving when she rolls her eyes.
In this situation, I’m good at portraying detachment. Whereas beneath my bare chest, I’m anything but calm.
Long ebony lashes flutter, her eyes shutting in a momentary truce while I carry her out of the room and along the hallway, heading to the kitchen.
“If you aren’t going back to sleep, then you’ll sit in a comfortable chair.”
“Right.” Her gaze narrows. “The pretty boy needs his beauty sleep, so I'm banished elsewhere. The floor was fine.”
My brows drift upward. “I disagree.”
“I guess being the youngest spoiled Souza means you always get your own way, right?”
I grunt at the jab. Getting my own way in a family like mine is impossible. It was always Papá’s way. Every fucking time. “Yeah, and something tells me you’re an only child because you’re so stubborn.”
When we move into the moonlit sitting room at the far end of the kitchen, I drop her onto a large armchair, pinning her bare legs with hawkish vigilance as she quietly stares up at me.
