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)
I’ve been working toward this ruse for years.
I’m faintly aware of Matteo’s lips brushing my collarbone before strong arms pull me into a seated position. My head is woozy, trapped in a lust haze, but years of having the rules beaten into me are hard to ignore.
“My mother would kill me if I went out in public with no panties.”
“Already on it,” Matteo replies, clasping a fresh pair of panties in his tattooed hand.
I raise a brow and twist my lips before glancing at his trouser pocket. With how strained his trousers are at the groin, I can see every delicate stitch of the lacy panties he pocketed earlier.
“They’re for later.” Kneeling before me, he slides a clean pair of panties up my still-shuddering thighs. “That won’t take care of itself.” At the start of his reply, he thrusts his hand at his crotch, which is pitching a tent.
“Do you want help?” I can’t believe the words leaving my mouth. I swore after the last time he left me hanging that I wouldn’t give him the opportunity again. I must be suffering from shock. It’s expected. I’ve never come so hard. “We’re already late, so what’s another two minutes?”
He gives me a playful nudge before he guides me out of the walk-in closet. “Appreciate the offer, but my cock deserves to be punished.” He adjusts his crotch, which announces without words that the zipper is biting in deep. “A pinch of pain might stop him from making me act like a chump for the second time today.”
“Is that recommended?” I fight to hide my smile when he scoops up my heels from the end of the bed and keeps walking. In Turkish culture, it’s disrespectful to wear shoes indoors, so I won’t put them on until we’re in the limousine. “Completely changing your persona in under an hour is ill-advised. I’m shocked your shrink didn’t warn you about that.”
Matteo’s hearty laugh gives me the perfect excuse for the heat on my cheeks. Even the elderly housemaid dusting trinkets on a hallway table blushes when it reaches her ears.
“He probably did, but it’s hard to be convincing when you’re seconds away from having your mouth filled with lead.”
Chapter 15
Matteo
The limousine hums beneath us, smooth and effortless, but I feel like I’m sitting on a live wire. My jaw aches from clenching it. My hands won’t stay still, and every breath feels like it’s scraping against the bullets my brothers fired into my chest without remorse for how badly they’d take me down.
They knew exactly how they were manipulating me when they played me like a fucking fiddle.
One taste of her—just one perfectly delicious taste—and I was done. Addicted. Hooked. Dragged under without the possibility of coming up for air.
Azra’s pussy… fuck.
She tastes sweet and innocent, but also devilish.
And mine.
Definitely mine.
My last two thoughts bother me the most.
My brothers knew this would happen.
They knew no number of lies could beat an addiction this potent.
Yet here I am, heading to a charity gala where I’m supposed to pierce Azra’s heated cheeks, dilated eyes, and lust-tweaked body onto a hook and dangle her in front of Antonio so he can see what he lost and come crawling back.
The thought of our ruse working twists something ugly up my throat, but I swallow it down.
I’m not built for commitment. Monogamy and feelings are not for me. I don’t do… this.
Whatever the fuck this is.
I hate my brothers for the torment they’ve forced on me, but I hate myself more.
I’m a stubborn fuck when backed into a corner, preferring to come out swinging rather than go down like a coward, but it’s hard to move forward with that practice now, knowing Azra will most likely suffer the most because of my pigheadedness.
I remind myself that she’s doing this for Antonio. That he’s her preferred choice.
Despite my many affirmations, I know every word I speak is a lie.
I’m still furious about all of it.
Guess it’s lucky I’m a damn good actor.
Azra’s eyes align with mine in the tinted window, her brow lifting. “Are you okay? You’re being strange.”
I huff out a laugh, pitch-black humor my go-to when snowed under. “Why are you acting like that’s new? I’m fucked in the head, remember?”
“I remember.” She turns back to the window to hide the faintest curve of her lips. “If you’ve changed your mind about needing help, you’ve left it too late.” Sparks of the feisty brunette who knocked me on my ass with one sideways glance shoot out of her in invisible waves. “The GPS says the gala is only three minutes away. I’d never have enough time to unhinge my jaw, much less bring you to climax.”
Needing to soften the blows of a fight she didn’t instigate, I say, “Liar. Have you seen your face? I could come just staring at you.”