Chapter 2 #2
“Right. Well, then I won’t be back. Sorry that I offended you.” I set the glass on his desk and walk toward the exit, but I hear the mechanism in the door as it locks. “Let me out of here.”
“When I said that you don’t belong here, I meant that as a good thing.” He’s getting closer and closer to me as he speaks, and then he’s at my back, and he brushes his hand down my braid. “It was refreshing when I looked out in the crowd and saw you.”
“Why?”
I turn to look at him, having to crane my neck back to see him because he’s standing so close.
“You’re beautiful, but you don’t try too hard with it. You’re aware of your surroundings. You didn’t jump at the chance to let me bring you back here and fuck you, just because of who I am.”
“And who are you, exactly?”
He smiles that pleased smile again, and it makes my stomach tighten.
“Yeah, I like that.”
He lifts his hand and brushes a piece of hair that came out of my braid behind my ear, watching me closely.
“You’re getting creepy, Mateo.”
“You’re a savage little thing, aren’t you?”
“I can be.” And that’s the fucking truth. I’ve continued to fight since Rose was taken, sparring at my gym back home and then again when I moved here. I might not be able to beat this guy, but I could make him hurt before he got the better of me. “What do you want from me?”
“Let me take you home tonight.”
His eyes flare, as if he didn’t mean to say that, but he doesn’t take it back.
I absolutely should not go. Even if he’s not an associate of Damien’s and he has no idea who my sister is or where they’re keeping her, he’s not a good man if he owns an underground fight club.
I can’t just ask him outright if he knows my sister or this Damien asshole.
I can’t risk that he’d make Rosie disappear again, or even hurt me for asking the wrong questions.
He might be able to lead me to Rose.
But, at the end of the day, the man is hot as hell.
I don’t think I’ve ever been as attracted to anyone as I am to this guy.
If Violet’s type was in the dictionary, Mateo’s photo would be front and center.
I’ve worked so hard to find Rosie, pretty much ignoring all of my own needs.
Would it be wrong to go home with him for a night of orgasms and self-indulgence?
Probably, yeah.
It could be a double whammy. Good sex—it had better be good sex—and the opportunity to snoop a little.
“I don’t think anyone’s made me work this hard before,” he murmurs, his lips twitching with humor.
“Maybe it’s time your ego took a little hit, champ.”
“Champ?”
“You won.”
He smirks. “Of course I did. Now, come on, Savage. Are you going to put me out of my misery and let me have a taste of that pretty pussy?”
Jesus, his words should not turn me on this much.
“You want to take me home with you.” It isn’t a question.
“Yeah. I do.”
I lick my lower lip and let my eyes fall to his mouth. I bet that mouth is good at a lot of things.
“Let’s go.”
He doesn’t open the door. He frames my face in his hands, hands with bruised knuckles, and kisses the ever-loving hell out of me. His lips are soft, his tongue sure, and all coherent thought flies right out of my head.
Because I vastly underestimated just how well this man can kiss.
I can’t help but whimper and lean into him, and he groans into my mouth as one hand slides to the back of my neck and holds me still.
“Last chance to say no,” he says against my lips.
“I’m not saying no.”
“Good fucking girl.”
Christ, I wish this guy wasn’t a criminal.
He leads me out of the office, his hand in mine, and out to the parking garage. We can hear the crowd making all kinds of noise inside because the fights are still going on and will last long into the night.
When he leads me to his ride, I frown.
“You ride a crotch rocket?”
Mateo scowls down at me. “No. I ride a fucking sport bike.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” I shrug my shoulders and almost laugh when he looks completely offended.
Teasing this man is fun.
“I’m wearing shorts, you know.”
“Yes, I can see your fucking amazing legs. Can’t wait to have them draped over my shoulders while you scream my name.”
Fuck.
“But you’re getting on my bike. We don’t have to go far, so you won’t get burned if you keep your feet on the pegs. I won’t let you get hurt.”
He holds a leather jacket up for me to slide on, and I lift an eyebrow.
“Put this on. You’ll wear my helmet too.”
“I thought we didn’t have far to go.”
“We don’t. Put it on.”
Finally, I do as he asks, and he sits on the bike and motions for me to get on behind him.
“Keep your feet on the pegs,” he reminds me.
I give him a thumbs-up, and he takes off through the parking garage, his hair moving in the breeze. I wrap my arms around him and press myself to his back, and damn if it doesn’t feel good. I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before, and it feels . . . freeing.
With one hand, Mateo reaches back and grasps onto my thigh, tugging me closer. He brushes his fingers lightly over the skin—hello, goose bumps—then gives me a squeeze before he lets go to steer us onto a side road and then into another underground garage, and all too soon, he parks once more.
“I told you it was close.”
“Almost too close.” I pass him the helmet, and he grins at me.
“You liked that, did you?”
“It . . . yeah. I liked it.”
He nibbles my lips, as if he can’t help himself, then leads me to an elevator and presses his hand to a palm reader before pushing the P button, for what I’m assuming is the penthouse.
When the doors open, he guides me into his home, and I come to a complete stop.
Because oh my God.
I thought the office was fancy, but it has nothing on this. The windows that show off the lights of the Strip are incredible. It’s furnished similarly to the office, in modern lines, glass, and chrome. Brown leather furnishings.
It’s beautiful.
And the next thing I know, he’s scooped me up and is carrying me up the stairs off the living room.
“I can’t give you a tour,” he tells me. “Because I need you in my fucking bed. But first, you’re going to tell me your name.”
I’m already breathing hard. My core is aching. I should not be lusting after this guy, but the chemistry is off the charts, and for once, I’m going to do something for myself.
“Violet.”