9. Mateo

Chapter 9

Mateo

Y ara was cradling the toilet as he broke the door to the bathroom down. He would pay for that… Probably.

She jumped a bit but didn’t even look at him. “You can go. Can’t you see that I’m in the middle of an appointment with the toilet?” she muttered out acerbically.

Ignoring her, Mateo glanced around the space. He found what he was looking for. Without pausing, he picked up a towel and wrapped it around his fist before punching the mirror.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Her words slurred a bit as she turned to him, tears rolling down her beautiful face, her hair a chaotic mess, and shining brightly through it all was a long jagged scar.

He had noticed it wasn’t her only one. They painted her bare skin in unassuming places.

Brush strokes that made her into a beautiful piece of art.

Mateo decided it was his favorite part of her, evidence that she was just as broken as he knew himself to be. Except she was wrapped in a much prettier package than he was. And more importantly, he hated that she had gone through any suffering.

But now, he wanted to cover every scar of hers with a new memory. One that involved him.

His mind was at war with itself over the woman. He needed to clear it .

“Take a shower with me.” He turned the water on before stepping forward to lift her up, she had lost her shoes at some point, and he didn’t want her to step on any of the mirror’s shards. At least that was the excuse he used internally.

He didn’t wait for her reply, he stepped into the tub before lowering her down in his lap. The shower’s mist hitting them from above had warmed up as they sat in the tub, both fully clothed.

“You’ll ruin my dress,” Yara weakly argued as she attempted to escape his hold, her shifting was causing his dick to stir, but he willed it to go down.

“Who cares?” he grumbled, leaning back, pulling her with him. “Close your eyes and just relax.”

After a moment she acquiesced. “This is new,” she murmured, looking up at him upside-down through her lashes, her head on his chest. “I’ve never gone to a hotel with a man to shower fully dressed.” Her voice was saturated in sarcasm. She shifted, but this time it was into him more.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “You are too trusting, I could be a bad man. A murderer.”

“Kazi is the only man I trust.”

Mateo twitched underneath her in discontent.

“And he trusted me into your care, so by extension I trust you. Besides, he wouldn’t allow someone around that would hurt me.” Yara’s hand found his and she began to trace lines up and down.

The hot water was still showering down on them, drenching their clothes, landing occasionally in Mateo’s eyes, but he didn’t care. He was entranced. Obsessed with her touch.

With her little fingers as they painted lines along his skin. With how instead of the disgust he usually felt at another person’s touch, he was enjoying it.

Mateo thought back to her kissing him. The way her ridiculously petite body had melded itself to him, how her soft lips were at odds with the fierceness in her eyes. Yara might have been damaged and hurt in the past, but he could tell she had never been broken. That she was a capable woman.

Perhaps even strong enough to handle him?

Mateo was not a man of small measures. He did everything fiercely. Fully. Yara would be no different now that he had set his sights on her.

“What happened at dinner?” he asked the question that had been burning in his gut, that would decide the fate of the pendejo she left behind there.

“Liam? Just another man that thinks because I run a taboo dating site it means I’m easy. That I want to fuck every client.” Yara laughed humorlessly.

Mateo had to force himself to not tighten his grip on the woman. He could tell she was fragile, tiny, small. Except she was also ferocious, and he didn’t doubt she could take care of herself.

Key in on the man with the bloody nose at the bar. The sight had been enchanting. He wished nothing more than to see her beat any man that came near her again.

But she wouldn’t need to anymore.

Mateo was here now.

And Liam? He would be dealing with the man himself.

She continued on, not noticing the change in Mateo’s mood, his murderous intent.

“The fucking irony is I haven’t even used my own site, haven’t delved into my own desires . I’m twenty-eight years old and barely even having sex. I’m terrified of putting myself out there and trying what I’m curious about. I couldn’t be a bigger hypocrite, constantly telling my bestie she needs to join it and explore herself, adventure into her interests. Meanwhile, here I am, not listening to my own advice. I think it’s time to do something…someone.” The last word was a husky whisper.

Mateo couldn’t control his reaction, he squeezed Yara tighter to him, grumbling into her ear, “And what is it that you want to try, little bee?”

She said something under her breath, he wasn’t quite sure he heard correctly.

He wanted to push her, have her say it again, but his eyes caught on the scars around her wrists. He hadn’t noticed them before.

He readjusted his grip, his hand moving her wrist back and forth.

Icy cold dread dropped into his gut. “What are these from?” he asked gruffly.

She twisted uncomfortably until their eyes met, hers were glassy, unfocused. “Car accident.” The lie was evident. “All of them are.” She shifted back around, reaching forward and turning the water off. “It’s time to let me out.”

These weren’t from a fucking car accident.

Who the fuck hurt this woman?

Anger and possession were worming their way into his skin, into his veins, into his blood. He hardly knew Yara, but he planned on changing that.