Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
The hard ridge of his cock pushed against my stomach as he swung our bodies around and walked toward the bed.
I tore my mouth free and craned my neck to the side. “Let go.”
“Never.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Watch me.”
The backs of my thighs hit the edge of the mattress, and I panicked. Twisting my hips, I wrenched free of his arms and skirted around the bed.
I held out a restraining hand. “Matteo, you’re angry. You’re not thinking straight.”
He whipped his T-shirt over his head, exposing the chiseled ridges of hard muscle across his chest and abdomen. There were far too many scars, some faint, some more recent, for anyone to call it perfection. Anyone but me. Damn the man.
Even with his hands dirty and scarred, they were still sexy in that masculine, big and strong way. When he ran them over my skin, I loved how slightly rough and strangely heavy they felt. As if he were restraining their power so he didn’t bruise my flesh.
The very idea sent a warm spark of awareness straight between my thighs.
This was madness.
I had to stop this before we both did something we regretted. “I won’t tell anyone about the… the… things we did…in bed… not even my sister.”
He probably assumed he would now be forced to marry me instead of her if my father found out about all the kinky sex games he had been playing with me.
His hands reached for the tarnished brass buckle of his belt as he kicked off his boots. “You had better not,” he growled.
I shook my head. “I won’t. I promise!”
The leather belt slid through the loops of his jeans as the corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile. “I’m a jealous man. I barely tolerate another man looking at you, let alone picturing your sexy body writhing with pleasure.”
My eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant.”
He tossed the folded belt aside. “I know what you meant, baby. And what we’re about to do has nothing to do with your sister or your father or Dante or any of that bullshit. I’ll deal with all of that later. This is between us.”
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. I knew I’d angered him with this stupid stunt of Antonia’s, but there was no cause to taunt me like this. He could just say his piece and send me back to Sicily. He didn’t have to act as if there was something between us.
After all, I was no one. Just the shy, sweet sister.
“Us? There is no us. Until today, you thought I was my sister,” I fired back.
As scary as it was, I needed the terrifying, slightly unhinged side of him back.
I couldn’t handle this determined, obstinate side.
He tilted his head to the side as he studied me. “That’s fair.”
The breath I had been holding escaped past my lips. Nothing like having your worst fears confirmed.
I’d played a secondary character to my sister’s starring one in my own story for my whole life. There was no reason having it confirmed once again should hurt this much. Still, some tiny part of me had hoped he had noticed I wasn’t her.
To avoid looking into his eyes and seeing pity or, worse, disgust in them, I shifted my gaze down and locked it on his hands again.
His masculine, scarred, dirty hands. Hands that would leave marks on my skin.
With his fingers splayed wide, he ran his right hand over the tight ridges of his abdomen. My cheeks burned as I glanced up to catch him watching me. The corner of his lips lifted as he moved his hand in a slow circle before dipping just the tips of three fingers into the waistband of his jeans.
My mouth went dry.
Matteo took a step toward me.
This time, I was too mesmerized to shift away.
His voice was low and calm, as if he were soothing a wild animal. “Let’s play a game.”
My gaze snapped back up to his. “I’ve had enough of your games.”
He was so close by now, he reached out and captured my chin to tilt my head back. “I think you’ll like this one.”
I clenched my stomach muscles to keep from trembling. I wanted to blame my overwrought emotions, exhaustion, stress—anything but his nearness—but I knew the truth.
My tongue flicked out to wet my dry lips. “What happens if I win?”
His gaze focused on my mouth as he ran his thumb over my lower lip. “Oh, babygirl. You’re not going to win.”
My throat muscles contracted as I tried to swallow. There was an unmistakably sinister threat to his words.
“Then I don’t want to play.”
He stepped closer, pushing me back against the wall. “Too late. We’ve already begun.”
His hand wrapped around my neck as he leaned down to nuzzle the sensitive skin just below my ear. “The rules are simple. I’ll tell you a moment I remember. And you tell me if it was you… or your sister.”