Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“You ready?” he asks, his tone slightly breathless, which has me wondering if he’s as turned on as I am—though judging from the way his hard bulge is pushing against the crack of my ass, I would say he is.
“Uh-huh,” I squeak out.
He tightens his hold on me, his face nuzzling into the crook of my neck, and I’m momentarily frozen as I inhale his masculine scent—the same scent I’ve had the pleasure of surrounding myself with every time I shower—but then he tightens his arm, slowly cutting off my air supply, and I snap out of it as flashbacks of Enrique choking me appear, forcing my fight-or-flight instincts to kick in.
I push my butt against him and then do as he taught me, using our height difference to my advantage—push his arm out, duck down low, and then run.
When I make it to the door, he yells, “Hell yeah, Dani! Good job.”
I turn around and grin, proud of myself. “Thanks.”
I glance at Matteo and notice that while I’m dripping wet and out of breath from working on the moves for the past hour, he’s barely broken a sweat.
“What the hell do you do to keep in shape?” I ask in exasperation. “I’m covered in sweat, and you’re, like … perfect.”
He barks out a laugh. “I work out for hours every day, and I eat clean.”
“Well, I want to do that too.” I cross my arms over my chest and huff.
He chuckles and steps toward me. “Why?”
“What?”
“You’re perfect the way you are,” he says, causing butterflies to attack my chest. “So, if your sudden desire to work out is because you think you need to lose weight, you don’t need to. But if you want to work out and eat healthy to better yourself, I can help you do that.”
I think about why I want to work out, and while I would love to tone up my softness a bit, that’s not the only reason. “I want to feel good about myself,” I tell him truthfully. “Being in college meant a lot of ordering in and eating shitty. I jog every day, but I want to do more than that. I shouldn’t feel like shit after working on some self-defense moves for an hour.”
Matteo nods in understanding. “Then, I’ll help you,” he says just as his phone goes off.
He picks it up and says, “It’s your brother.”
He points the phone at me, and then I hear a click when the camera takes a picture.
“Matteo!” I yell, running toward him. “Do not send that to my brother!”
He laughs and raises his arm so I can’t reach the phone. “Chill out. He wanted to know you’re okay, and I was just sending him proof.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, giving up on trying to steal his phone.
“He wants to know why you’re all sweaty,” he says with a laugh.
“Tell him it was all the sex we had in the gym.”
I smirk, and Matteo glares.
“Not funny, Little Russo. You want your brother to try to kill me?”
“You’re so dramatic.” I roll my eyes. “Give him my number, please.”
He nods.
“Any news on him getting out?”
He glances up at me and pockets his phone. “The attorney is working on it. At least getting him out on bail, like me.”
My stomach decides in that moment to growl, and Matteo laughs.
“Was that you?”
“It was all the hot sex,” I taunt, making him close his eyes and shake his head.
“You’re killing me, Little Russo,” he says.
I’ve noticed he only uses that nickname when I say something that crosses the line, like by saying it, it reminds him that I’m my brother’s little sister.
“Ehh, you’re strong and healthy. You’ll be okay. But me, on the other hand? If I don’t get some sustenance in me soon, I might die.”
He snorts out a laugh. “We wouldn’t want that.”
“Order in?”
“Or I can cook,” he offers. “You did say you wanted to eat healthier.”
“You cook?” I raise a brow, remembering he mentioned I could repay him by cooking and baking for him.
“Of course. That’s the healthiest way to eat.”
“Okay”—I open the gym door—“show me your ways.”
18
Matteo
I’ve never lived with a woman, never wanted to. I always imagined living with someone would aggravate me. I like my space. I like my routine. Sure, I lived with my brother for years, but he didn’t tell me what to do. And most women I’ve spent time with want to control me, and I don’t like being controlled.
But living with Dani is unlike anything I could’ve imagined. For one, rather than dreading being around her, I crave her company way too fucking much. Whether it’s watching TV, talking, working out, and now cooking with her, I enjoy being around her. And that wouldn’t be a problem if she wasn’t off-limits. But she is.
“Oh my God, Matteo,” Dani moans, taking another bite of her food. “Seriously, this is so good.”