Page 78 of Hostile Rival
When he finally disappears, I give myself a shake and go about buttering the toast, forgetting to add jam.
My head is all over the place. Fintan does have a point, though. I prepare the coffee and set everything on a tray, at the same time talking myself through the emotions running riot within me.
I’m not stupid.
But Matheus would have to win an Oscar if he was faking that look in his eyes—how they burn for me.
The mugs rattle as I walk back to the bedroom, analyzing the facts. While I balance the tray in one hand, I open the door, finding Matheus stretched out with his eyes closed.
The sheet only covers his lower half, and I realize there’s an element of trust already established between us. It might be a thin layer, but it’s there, nonetheless.
I move inside the room and set the tray on the bed, not stopping my eyes from wandering all over his sculpted form. A little flutter catches me off guard when his dark lashes lift, and he offers me a devastating smile.
“You going to stand there and stare at my face or get over here and sit on it?” His voice is thick and the very thing that makes me shiver.
I fold my arms over my chest and nod at the tray. “I made you breakfast. And I’ve never made a man breakfast. Count yourself lucky.”
“Oh, I am lucky, baby, because I get to have you with that robe off.” Matheus props himself up on his elbow and glances at the plate of toast. “Unfortunately, I can’t eat those.”
I frown at him and climb onto the bed next to him. “Why the hell not?”
“You cut the toast into squares. I only eat rectangles.”
“You’re joking?”
Matheus claims my hand and tugs me closer, grinning. “Yeah, I’m joking,” he laughs. “I appreciate the effort, but I’d rather move straight to dessert and have breakfast after.”
I grab the pillow from behind him and wallop his chest with it. “I hate you.”
Matheus pauses for a beat, something flashing behind his eyes and then he sits upright, thumbs my jaw, leans in, and kisses me. Slow, wet and––dirty. “You’re gonna need to rephrase that,” he says into my mouth, cuffing my throat next. Our lips graze. “No lies, this time.”
I swallow hard, not able to compute how one man can disarm me like this with only his lips. Although, it's not really just his mouth. It's the words that come out of it and the gritty texture of his voice. Not to mention his beautiful face, strong arms, and those hands that always seem to find their way onto me.
Matheus looks me right in the eye. “I’ll go first, shall I?”
I nod quietly, aware of his palm covering the thrumming vein in my neck.
“I like how you cut the toast into cute little squares for me,” he murmurs, kissing me again. “And I like having you in my bed.” He skates his tongue into my mouth and lets it play with mine before adding, “But most of all, I like this…”
His mouth moves to my chin, featherlight kisses slowly work down my throat. I willingly lie back, my hair fanning the mattress and my insides on fire. “Your turn.”
“I don’t hate you anymore if that's what you want to hear.” I smirk while my hands reach for his smooth skin.
His fingers move to my robe and tug at the belt, loosening it. I shiver when the edges splay open and his pupils flare. Spreading my thighs apart, he gets into position between them the very second my phone goes off.
I fumble about in my pocket, fishing it out to see Blanco’s name on the screen.
I close my legs, stiffly scoot back, and drop my feet to the floor, glancing over my shoulder at him. “I have to take this.”
“Who is it?” he asks, frowning.
“Who do you think?” I stand tall and close my robe. “It’s my boss.”
Suddenly he’s off the bed and in front of me, his eyes dark and his expression wild. “Your boss?” His tone is harsh, gritty, and not like him at all.
My pulse stutters when he backs me into the wall, ignoring the persistent ringing. “He’s not the boss of you. My girl does whatever the fuck she wants.”
“I’m part of the Blanco cartel, Matheus. The sooner you accept that, the better.” I push into his chest, getting angry. “I told you nothing would change.”
