Page 35 of Phantom Mine

I can’t win, let alone survive a physical fight against him, that much is obvious.

“Come on, Melody. Fight back.”

The arrogance of his smile hits me right in my temper. I want to wipe it off his perfect face.

Luckily, I’m never unarmed.

After deflecting another blow, I throw a kick, aiming it at his sternum. I’m hoping to catch him off guard and buy precious seconds so I can reach for my knife, but he’s prepared. His hand closes around my ankle before it can connect with his abdomen.

It feels as if time slows as our eyes connect and he smiles smugly at me.

“Another mistake,” he crows.

Then he twists my leg viciously.

I let out a cry that’s more anger than pain as he flips me in the air, sending me careening to the floor. I land on my front and dull pain shoots straight through my ribcage.

Matteo is on me before I can crawl away. His forearm wraps around my throat and he yanks me back to my feet. I claw at his arm, attempting to dislodge it and free myself, but his hold is ironclad.

“Tell me what you were doing,” he growls against the side of my face. He’s breathing heavily, the strong planes of his chest moving against my back. I’m thrilled to find out that this isn’t as easy as it looks for him, that I’m putting up a hell of a fight. “What the fuck were you looking for in here?”

I throw my elbow backwards, connecting with his abs in a sharp blow. He groans and folds, his hold on me weakening just enough that I can shove his arm off. I don’t make it a step beforehis hand closes around the back of my neck and he slams me face first into the wall.

I shriek in anger and he laughs, the sound only further flaming my blood. “Let me go!”

He flips me around and pins me to the wall by my throat. Unlike Guido, he doesn’t squeeze. His large hand adds just enough pressure to send a rush of heat to my core.

“You can’t win against me.”

“Vete a la mierda,” I hiss at him.

He laughs in return. “Something tells me those words don’t mean “I give up”.”

Somewhere along the way, my hair broke free of its braid and now hangs loosely around my shoulders. Matteo looks equally disheveled, his previously coiffed hair mussed from our physical altercation, his dress shirt as rumpled as used bed sheets. Both of us rip in ragged breaths.

He closes the distance between us until his body is pressed against mine. There’s an immediate confusing familiarity from having him pinned against me this way, like my body recognizes him. His thumb rubs circles over my pulse point, taking clear pleasure in tracking my racing heartbeat.

His lips find my ear, his harsh breaths raising treacherous goosebumps along my heated skin.

“Say you give up,” he demands, victorious.

That same rush of pure, illogical need crashes through me, my body weak in its craving for him.

I’m out of control. If I make it out of this room alive, I’m hooking up with the first man I see.

Matteo’s nose brushes against the column of my neck and a shiver runs through him as he pulls away. My tongue swipes over my bottom lip and his pupils dilate until they’re smoldering with desire.

My answer is a rage-filled whisper. “Never.”

Taking advantage of his distracted state, I slam my forearm into the inside of his elbow. The force of my blow relaxes the fingers he has around my neck and elicits a grunt of pain from his throat.

I duck and spin on my feet until I’m behind him. Matteo attempts to turn but freezes when he feels the point of a blade pressed up against his throat. I slam my palm into his back until he’s splayed against the wall. He’s so tall that I have to stand on my toes to keep my knife against his carotid.

I expect him to be surprised or angry.

Instead, he laughs delightedly. It’s chilling, a sound so intimidating I hesitate to refer to it as laughter.

“Turn around,” I order. “And don’t try anything, or I’ll slit your throat where you stand.”

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