Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
His gaze sweeps over me. His gawk isn’t inappropriate, more assessing, like he’s cataloging every detail for reasons he’ll never admit. “Shame. I was enjoying myself.”
“You were enjoying bossing me around.”
“That, too.”
I hustle past him, desperate to reach the cashier before he says something else that makes my pulse misbehave. With a playful groan, Matteo pulls open the dressing room curtain. His arm brushing mine sends a rush of heat to the apex of my thighs.
It was like this in my dream last night. Tension so intense that, even while making mistake after mistake, it felt as if I’d never face the consequences of my actions.
I’ve only just entered the main part of the boutique when Matteo’s hand closes around my wrist. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he pulls me back inside, crowds me against the already fogged mirror, then seals his mouth over mine.
Without a negative thought slipping through my head, I part my lips to allow his lashing tongue to slide between them. I groan into his mouth when he drags his tongue along the roof of my mouth before dueling it with mine. Tingles flood my pussy from the delicious flavor of his mouth. He tastes like the breakfast we shared and a unique palate that belongs solely to him.
My god, this man knows how to kiss.
The strokes of his tongue are precise and controlled, and the soft tenderness of his mouth is unexpected for how riled up it can make me when he’s not kissing me senseless.
Mindless with need, I meet his kiss with both potency and steam. I stroke my tongue along his, sucking gently, while mimicking the hungry, sultry movements of his mouth.
My breath catches when Matteo rocks his hip upward, wordlessly announcing that this feeling isn’t exclusive to me. He’s hard, his erection straining against the crotch of his jeans.
As I rock against him, the air between us tightens with the charge of a storm about to break. I assume the tension has finally snapped for him too, that he’s done allowing me to pretend this is solely about strategy, but then I hear it.
A familiar voice calls my name.
It’s dull compared to the ringing of my pulse in my ears, but distinguishable.
Antonio.
My stomach drops when I recall him mentioning a boutique in town from which he purchases all his suits. They have an on-site tailor, which saves him a drive to the city.
Matteo’s expression is unreadable when I inch back. He drinks in my heated neck and kiss-swollen lips before he flicks his dilated eyes to the entryway of the dressing room, wordlessly announcing my stupidity.
When his hooded gaze returns to me, his posture shifts from protective to deliberate. It isn’t the stance of a romantic man. It’s tactical.
Antonio calls my name again, louder this time, like he recognizes my moans.
The silent accusation stiffens Matteo’s shoulders, but I act ignorant and peer past them. Antonio is on the other side of a partially open curtain, holding a garment bag. He’s wearing sunglasses indoors, which would be ridiculous if he didn’t already look so awkward. His uncomfortable posture hides more than a battered ego, and his jaw is tight.
He heard me.
He just has no clue that Matteo’s kisses alone can inspire such a carnal response.
Matteo tilts slightly to the left, blocking the view.
“Showtime,” he whispers, audible only to me.
He places me back on my feet, and my pulse hammers. Not from fear. Well, not entirely.
The way Matteo’s presence fills the small space is intimidating, but the fact that he’s already three moves ahead of his opponent is both inspiring and frightening.
Antonio’s expression is exactly the reaction I want, but it takes everything I have to slip my hand into the one Matteo is holding out in offering.
His glinting eyes reveal this is a game to him, but for a second, when he had me pinned to the mirror, it felt like the most honest thing in the world.
As my hand slips into Matteo’s, he says, “Ready to make him regret everything?”
It’s a fight to school my expression. “More than ready.”
He pulls back the curtain as if he has no clue that the darkness of my past is lurking beyond it.
When Antonio balks, Matteo’s teeth graze his lower lip, scarcely concealing his smug grin.
He’s enjoying this a little too much.
Antonio’s head snaps toward me. “Azra?” he says again, differently this time. His voice is strained, and something oddly similar to disbelief threads through it.
I blink as if embarrassed he caught us. It isn’t a hard ruse to pull off since it’s true. Antonio wasn’t the only one who caught me off guard. It isn’t even Matteo. It’s the actions of my lusty head.
“Anto… Hi.”
He removes his sunglasses, revealing blackened and unfocused eyes. They’re not the eyes of an exhausted man recovering from losing someone he didn’t realize he wanted until she was stolen from him. They’re the marks of a man punished for his many false notions of what is right and wrong.