Wild Bastard by Ella Savitskaya (book suggestions .txt) 📕

I lower my eyes involuntarily, tracing the path of the muscles I had already appreciated during the fight, but then quickly look away. A large bulge marks out beneath his boxers.

I certainly remember the feeling of a hard erection between my legs, but I could only feel it then, and the visual demonstration only confirmed everything. Paint hits my cheeks. Again. Why? I had seen guys without underwear when I shared an apartment with the guys, and they didn't hesitate to cower in front of us, but at that time it didn't make me feel annoyed.

Probably because I knew them from childhood, and they were like brothers to me. And Matthew...

"Good morning. Since you're going to the kitchen, Rie, make some coffee for me, too" The bastard pulls the corner of his lips up, and I suddenly recall the way he pressed them against me yesterday.

"I'm not your maid" I snort, skirting around him and heading downstairs.

Matt doesn't follow me, which makes it much easier to breathe.

I remember where the coffee machine was yesterday. I had noticed it when I was looking for wine to calm Lana down. We have one just like it in our bar. Of course, less sophisticated, but I roughly know where to press.

I put my cup on the coaster and pull the faucet, but instead of boiling water, I'm nearly stung by hot steam.

"Shit," I abruptly jerk my hand away.

A man's palm suddenly lays on top of mine and transfers it to the other faucet on the opposite side.

"Rie, it says Hot Stim" I tens my whole body as the naked torso presses against my, and the voice purring like a lion on the paddock.

When did he manage to come up so silently?

I turn around and see Matt taking my nearly boiled meat hand, holding it to his lips and blowing on the skin. He's just like a caring older brother, except there's something dark in his eyes that's not very brotherly. I freeze, stopping to breathe. I wonder if he really cares. Without sexual innuendo, or isn't this kind of behavior inherent in him at all?

I don't understand why I ask myself this question. It is proven by his actions that this animal cannot be normal. Matt runs his tongue over my skin and takes a playful, caring interest in me:

"Does it hurt now?"

"It didn't hurt at all!" I pull my hand out and hurry to get away. "You could have said that without touching me, Matthew" The asshole leans against the cabinet so that now I would have to squeeze past him to pick up the cups.

"And I wanted to touch you. Who's stopping me?"

"I am."

"Mmm, you can start. This is going to be fun."

I turn away, ignoring his almost naked body, and take the second cup from the tray.

"Matthew, what do you want from me?" I look up at him, and then notice that he's looking at my pajama shorts. For the first time in my life I feel naked, even though they reach my mid-thigh.

"How do you think, Rie?"

A sharp tongue licks his lips, as he always does, hinting at dirty fantasies.

It's infuriating.

"To fuck me?"

"As an option."

"That's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not interested in you!"

"You're lying!"

"Why would I?"

"Because you don't want to admit to yourself that your nipples are sticking out not from the draught right now."

I look down and clench my teeth. It is only at that second that I realize that they really are. The machine beeps to indicate that the coffee is ready, but I stay where I am.

"That half the night you remembered my lips on you and that now you stubbornly do not want to come up to pick up the cup, so that you do not feel the arousal of my close presence."

What a pig. The protest comes from the very depths of my soul. I raise an eyebrow, meeting the mocking gaze of blue eyes. I step forward with confidence and push past him. I don't care if I rub my thighs against a guy's legs and my waist against his underwear. I don't wanna seem weak. I deliberately bent over, exposing my ass, and take the cup.

I put the other one in its place, and, after running the faucet, I move farther away. As I'm at a distance, I meet Matt's eyes again. I don't know what anyone else would have done, but the bastard smirks. He just smiles his haughty grin, and then walks past me and slaps me on the ass.

" If you do that again, I'll pour boiling water on you" I freak out at his permissiveness.

Cash stops halfway, turns around slowly, and casts a fleeting glance at the cup on the table, and then at me.

"This one?" Tilting his head to the side, he takes a few steps back and dips his index finger into the coffee I' d just made.

A surprised exclamation gets stuck somewhere in my throat. There's no pain on his face. A second, two, three, four. I'd be screaming by now, and it's like he's not holding his finger in boiling water, but under running room-temperature water. What a psycho.

"As you can see, Rie, I'm not afraid of pain" He pulls out a reddened finger and licks it. "There's a pool party at our house tonight. Ask Lana to get you a bathing suit. Preferably as open as possible. I want to see what you look like before I come to your room tonight!"

"Dream on, Matthew!"

"Dreams do come true, Rie!" He gives me a saucy look, and then leaves the kitchen, saying, "By the way, tell the little one that she can come, too.

How very generous of him! I roll my eyes and give him the finger.

He wants a slutty bathing suit? Not a chance in hell. I'll come as I see fit!

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