THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up to the sound of voices shouting in the hallway outside of the door. I blink, taking in my surroundings; confused at first but then quickly remembering last night. Mateo and I stayed in a spare bedroom, because his bedroom… Well, let’s just say things got a little messy.
The voices get louder, drawing my attention, and I can hear Mateo arguing in Spanish with a woman. Covering myself modestly with a sheet, I wrap it around myself and get out of bed. I need to find out what’s going on.
Just then, the door opens and Mateo peeks in. When he sees that I’m decent, he swings open the door wide and says with a dramatic wave of his hand, “See, I told you. Aria is alive and well.”
Esmeralda peers into the room and sighs dramatically with relief when her eyes land on me. She makes the sign of the cross against her chest and says something in Spanish while looking up towards the heavens.
“When Esmeralda changed the bedsheets in our room this morning, she got it in her head that I murdered you last night. You know, because of all the blood,” Mateo says with a roguish grin. “She didn’t believe me when I said you were all right.” He turns to her. “But now you see that she’s fine.”
Esmeralda glares at Mateo before looking at me with a much softer but worried look. “Hungry?” she asks.
I give her an emphatic nod.
She says something quickly in Spanish to Mateo and then disappears down the hall. Mateo walks into the room and closes the door behind him. “She’s going to make us a big breakfast.”
“So, we’re celebrating the fact that you didn’t murder me in my sleep last night?” I ask him sarcastically.
“Basically,” he answers with a chuckle.
I stare at his shoulder. It looks way better than it did last night with a fresh bandage. “The doctor stitched it back up?” I ask.
He nods. “A few minutes ago. Told me to take it easy this time.”
“Are you going to listen to him?” I question with a cocked brow.
“Of course not,” he answers before stalking towards me like a lion would with its prey. He’s the ultimate predator, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. He tackles me onto the bed, making me yelp in surprise.
“Mateo, your shoulder!” I protest as he places kisses down my neck and over my chest.
“I pay him a lot of money. The bastard can sew it up again later,” he says gruffly before he trails his hot, wet mouth down my stomach. And when his tongue sweeps over my slit, all former protests quickly die in my throat.
