Page 96 of Hostile Love
I hold up my bound wrist, waving my hand at him.
“You’ll have to help. I don’t want this to get wet.
The corners of his eyes crease as he dishes out a lazy smile that dimples his cheek.
“Anything for you, baby.”
Matheus rakes a hand through his dark hair and proceeds to taunt me as he bites his bottom lip, hunkers down before me, and unties my boot laces.
Once they’re off, he drags my pants to my ankles, rises tall, and ever so carefully pulls my long-sleeved top over my head, gently freeing my bad wrist.
Left in a bra and panties, he turns away and heads to the adjoining marble bathroom.
“Hopefully, the temperature is how you like it,” he calls, disappearing inside.
I follow, a little giddy, and find him sticking his hand into the already filled claw-foot bathtub.
“It’s hot, but not scalding,” he tells me as I stop beside him. “Test it first. I can cool it down.”
The calming scent of rosewood and jasmine bubble bath fills my nostrils. I pull my lips between my teeth—a subconscious reflex to stop him from seeing how happy I am—and swirl my fingers in the foam, nodding.
“Perfect?”
“Yeah, perfect.” I look up to find him staring right at me.
He thumbs my cheek and twiddles with the hooks on my bra, unfastening it. When it drops to the heated tiles underfoot, he peppers kisses on my shoulders where the straps had been.
Next, he hooks a thumb in my lacy panties and rips them off in one rough tug.
Damn, that made my heart pump like crazy.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Very much.”
Matheus comes in for a kiss and claims my lips. I melt against him and forget all about the day’s events, losing myself in the way he feels.
Pulling back, he suddenly sweeps me into his arms and lowers me gently into the water.
Kneeling outside of the tub, he takes hold of my sore arm and rests it on the porcelain edge. My wrist still throbs a bit, but it hurts less than it did.
Every hair on my wet skin appreciates the warm sensation of water. My muscles relax and I lie back, letting it hug me.
I’m not used to this. Being so intimate with a man in this way…allowing myself to think about the long term.
It feels good to let go.
“Blanco thinks I have cartel ambition and a desire to be on top,” Matheus says.
He stretches across the width of the tub and depresses a pump of peppermint shampoo into his hand.
“I don’t.” Our eyes lock. “How do you feel about that?”
“Not a thing.” I shrug. “I don't feel anything about it. To me, you're an agent.” My stomach sinks. “Why? Is there something else you had in mind? Are you thinking about a law firm—going legit?”
“Nah…I like the action too much. Sitting at a desk twenty-four-seven would kill me.”
Rubbing the shampoo between his hands, he holds them outward and gestures for me to sit up. I wince a little, my bruises twinging with the movement. As soon as I’m upright, he’s massaging my scalp and I’m groaning.
Holy hell, I’m practically at one with the water. A liquid hot mess.
