"You forget how hard it is to ignore someone who looks the way you do," He replied smoothly, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of us.
Running his large hands slowly down my arms before looping them around my waist possessively...
The night was warm, the air thick with something unspoken.
We weren't in the penthouse.
It looked like a hotel, luxurious but unfamiliar, dimly lit by the golden glow of lamps and city lights seeping through the sheer curtains. The hum of distant traffic filled the silence, blending with the faint sound of ice clinking in a glass.
I was sitting on the edge of a sleek, king-sized bed, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the hem of my dress. The fabric was silky beneath my touch, something expensive, something delicate—something I would never normally wear.
Across the room, Matío leaned against the minibar, his broad shoulders relaxed yet calculated. He was nursing a drink, the amber liquid swirling lazily in the crystal glass. The sleeves of his black button-down were rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his forearms, and the top few buttons were undone, leaving just enough of his chest visible to tempt and infuriate me all at once.
I hated that he looked so good.
I hated even more that he knew it.
He smirked over the rim of his glass, taking a slow sip before setting it down.
"You keep looking at me like that," he murmured, his voice lower than usual, rougher.
I rolled my eyes, leaning back on my hands. "Like what?"
His smirk deepened as he pushed off the minibar and walked toward me—slow, deliberate.
"Like you don't know what's about to happen."
My breath hitched.
The air between us shifted, thickening, growing heavier with something I didn't want to name.
"Well, I don't." I replied obviously.
He reached me in a few strides, stopping just in front of me. The heat of his body was immediate, suffocating in the best way. He looked down at me, dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous—something I should've wanted to run from.
But I didn't move.
I didn't want to.
Matío tilted his head slightly, studying me like he was waiting for something. His fingers grazed my knee—barely there, just enough to make my stomach flip.
