Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Had I really just said that out loud?
One corner of his mouth tilted in a wicked smirk, and he brushed his thumb over my lower lip. “That’s too bad. I guess you’ll just have to make do without.”
His darkly pleased expression and dismissive words should have sent a chill of fear through my system. Although my skin pebbled, heat licked along my veins.
“But I need my stuff,” I countered weakly. “I don’t have my haircare products or anything.”
He touched a particularly unruly curl, tucking it behind my ear. “You don’t need any makeup or hair products.”
I shook my head slightly. Mateo clearly didn’t understand the importance of a strict regimen to keep my curls in order. I loved my hair and made every effort to ensure it looked glossy and polished.
When I was little, my mother had despised dealing with my hair. She’d told me it was a frizzy mess, and she’d insisted on taking a flat iron to my curls every day. Of course, she’d assigned a nanny to manage the boring task. She might have hated the idea of her daughter looking untidy, but it didn’t bother her enough that she would see to fixing it herself.
I’d finally rebelled at the age of fifteen. I threw the straighteners in the garbage and bought every product I could find for curly hair until I discovered the perfect daily routine.
“Yes, I do need my products.” My argumentative spark returned, and I straightened my spine. “My hair will be a mess without them.”
Mateo shrugged. “There’s no one here you need to impress.”
I stiffened and took a step back, pulling away from the heat of his hands. I didn’t care about impressing anyone. My hair was a point of personal pride, a symbol of my decision to take control over my own life. His dismissiveness was a cruel reminder that I no longer had any control. My choices, my freedom, had been taken away.
I turned sharply and stalked into the bathroom without another word, making sure to slam the door as a warning not to follow me.
I needed some space from Mateo. I couldn’t think straight when he was touching me. Just because he was being gentle didn’t mean I had to roll over and meekly accept my fate as his hostage. I didn’t have to cling to him when I cried, like a stupid little girl who was desperate for reassurance and affection.
Shoving down my roiling emotions, I focused on freshening up. I might not have any of my usual supplies for my morning routine, but I could at least brush my teeth and take a shower.
I found the toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink, just as Mateo had promised. For a fleeting moment, I wondered why he had a spare, new toothbrush stocked and ready to go.
Idiot, I scolded myself. There was a very obvious reason why a man might keep extra toiletries in his house: to have a supply on hand in case a woman spent the night unexpectedly.
Of course Mateo was prepared for female overnight guests. Women probably swooned for him all the time. He was jacked and gorgeous and insanely sexy with his broody, bad boy vibe.
I rolled my eyes as I brushed my teeth. I had to get that girlish fantasy out of my head. Mateo might not be cruel, but he was definitely a dangerous man.
I wondered if the other women he brought to his house knew he was a criminal. Was he sweet to them too? Did he hold them as tenderly as he’d held me?
Frustrated with my wayward thoughts, I slapped the toothbrush down onto the sink and stomped the short distance to the shower. The water warmed within seconds, and I jerked the curtain closed with a bit more force than necessary as I stepped under the hot spray.
What did it matter to me if Mateo was nice to the women he fucked? I might have harbored a stupid crush on him for far too long, but that was over now. Sure, I liked when he comforted me. I’d been through some traumatic events since yesterday afternoon. Of course it felt good to be comforted by a friend.
Well, Mateo had never really been a friend, necessarily. He’d kept himself at a distance, and I never saw him unless he was with Adrián. It wasn’t like we’d ever had any time alone together.
But I’d known him for years. He wasn’t some stranger who’d kidnapped me off the street. So, it was only natural that I accept the solace he offered.
Just because I liked it when he hugged me did not mean I was jealous at the thought of some other woman sleeping in his bed and utilizing his supply of fresh toiletries.
I yelped when I heard the bathroom door open.
“Relax.” Mateo’s voice drifted through the steam-filled bathroom. “I can’t see anything through that shower curtain. I’m just setting some clothes on the sink for you. Finish up so we can have breakfast. You need to eat.”