Page 31 of Hostile Rival
When the ocean comes into view, the helicopter swoops, and my belly flips. Hopefully, I get a solo mission next––today––the minute we land. Being around Matheus isn’t good for my libido.
Maybe I’m just horny and any dark-haired, brown-eyed, beautiful man would do? It has been a while since I last hooked up with a guy. That’s probably all it is.
I shake off the distraction and think about my real task. The reason I became Buffy and the vow I’d made to Blanco. There’s no room for error or time for relationships in the life I’m destined to live. That was the tradeoff, and I had accepted it.
As soon as we land on the helipad near the villa, I jump out and march ahead, slamming my hand on the wall mounted sensor, shoving my way indoors, not caring to check if anyone is behind me. Inside, I head straight for my room, toss my vest on the bed, and drag my hands down my face.
I’m sweaty and flustered, needing a shower––and time out.
I follow my feet to the bathroom, lock the door for privacy, and strip. In a matter of minutes, I’m under the showerhead and lathering shampoo in my hair, making a concerted effort not to think about him.
Did he fancy that girl? Is that why he showed compassion instead of ramming a gun into her gut like the rest of us would have?
Hunter would’ve ignored her whines. Oistin probably would have shot her in the leg to shut her up and Fintan, fuck knows what he’d have done. The man is cold.
But Matheus––he had no problem butchering the enemy and when it came to rescuing a sweet teen, he acted like Prince fucking Charming.
That he is not.
Lost in my head, an odd sound comes from the door and when I turn around, Matheus strides straight in like he owns the place wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.
“Excuse me. The door was locked.” I clear a circle in the steamy glass with my fingertips and glare out at him.
He doesn’t look at me, only wanders to the toilet, slowly pulls out his dick, holds it in his big hand, and starts to piss.
“I needed the toilet,” he states matter-of-factly.
“You actually picked the lock?” I ask, cold and sharp.
He shrugs, nonplused. “Seems so.”
“Are you joking…I don’t want to hear you going to the toilet, Mat.”
My gaze runs the length of him and stops at his dick, recalling how good it had looked when it was full and hard. I don’t want to stare, but I can’t bring myself to look away.
“You’ll happily watch me piss, though. Yeah?” He glances over at me, his lips curled in a roguish grin. “You going to be long in there? I need a shower too,” he asks, flushing the toilet and tucking himself away again.
“I’ll be as long as it takes.” I level him with a pissed-off glare and unstick my feet, finally turning my back to him. “Close the door on your way out.”
Continuing to wash my hair, my skin prickles, sensing him advance. I peer over my shoulder to watch steam swirl around his bare chest as he joins me in the cubicle.
“What the hell are you doing?” I spin around to face him, noting he’d discarded his boxers, exposing a thick boner. “You need to put that thing on a leash, Mat.”
Mixing business with a hot fling is not on the cards. Even if I’m sorely tempted to scratch this annoying itch that I can’t seem to get rid of. His muscles are golden and deliciously hard.His thighs are toned and long, and that face of his, damn, he’s beautiful.
I’m left holding my breath.
Matheus Souza is a god. Yet I should knife him for gate-crashing my privacy.
“Did the girl do something to annoy you, Dani?” he asks, taking a step closer, smirking. “Seems to me like you didn’t want her near your roomie.”
“I was bored with her yapping.” I counter, feeling turned on and a little breathy. “The mission was over, and she was dragging it out. That’s all.”
Don’t let him touch you, Dani.
Water pours over his broad shoulders and dampens the messy hair on his head, clinging to the taut landscape of his carved abdomen. I fold my arms and shift; painfully aware of how difficult it is to be in his company when he’s buck naked.
Matheus smirks, dimpling his unshorn cheek. The way he looks at me chips away at my defenses. “I think you’re lying, little firecracker,” he muses.
