Liquid fire pools in my belly at the sight of his collarbone and thick throat, and the stubble on his face and his mussed hair make him downright mesmerizing.I want to run my hands over him and explore the different textures with my teeth and tongue.
He quirks a brow and tugs his collar aside.
Ice travels down my spine.
Red blotches and tiny scratches pepper his exposed flesh.
My lips feel swollen.
Shit, I think I might have already explored him.
My heart tries to pound out of my chest as I meet his bottomless hazel eyes.The cold amusement shining from his orbs along with the sardonic lilt of his mouth promise a level of cruelty I’m not sure I can survive.
“Why is it you?”
The question bursts from my lips before my mind catches up.I long for a hole to open in the mattress and teleport me to another dimension.
His expression hardens.
My breath hitches in my throat.The fabric of my dress pinches my nipple as the wayward peak hardens.Fresh alarm spears through me, and I yank my dress into place and run my hands over myself until I’m certain no one took liberties with my body while I was out of it.
I’m not sure how a hangover feels since I’ve never had alcohol before, but unless I have a legit intolerance, I doubt a reaction this strong is normal.Worry worms into my brain.
Did someone drug me?Was it Matteo?
I instinctually shove the thought away before heaping logic on top and burying the idea for good.He may have changed since high school, but his moral code would never allow him to stoop so low.We competed in so many academics in school, and he never once cheated.Plus, here I sit, unmolested in a hotel room with him looming over me.It makes no sense for him to roofie my drink.
I slump in relief and drop my pounding head into my hand.
With a condescending scoff, Matteo drops a folder onto the bed beside me, stalks to the window, and yanks the curtains open.
I bite back a hiss and shield my face with my hand until my eyes adjust, then look up at the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.
He stands at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his muscular chest and icy hatred shining from his hazel eyes.
“Read and sign,” he says with a pointed glance at the folder.
Fuck.As dozens of horrible possibilities flit through my head, I rack my brain for clues, but I have no idea what happened last night.The folder could hold anything from a nondisclosure agreement, a summons to court, blackmail, or a hundred other horrible things.
And honestly, if those marks on his throat are from me, he has every right to sue me.
As I lift the black folder off the sheets, a ridiculous thought flashes through me, but I shove it into the stratosphere and chalk it up to mania.There’s no way he’d demand I marry him because of a few kisses.
Right?
I can’t force myself to open the folder.
“What is it?”I ask.
“Your employment contract.”
My head snaps up at his unexpected reply.Despite the coldness in his tone and the condescension in his expression, fire burns in his eyes.
“What?Why would you—”
I close my mouth so fast and hard my teeth clink together as fuzzy memories flit through my mind.As glasses and plates shattered onto the floor, I stood on the table and asked someone to hire me.
In front of everyone, he agreed.
