Page 32 of Curse

What the fuck is happening right now?

His breath is warm on my neck and next to my ear. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He moves efficiently, brushing the straps of my bra off my shoulders and unhooking it in one practiced motion. I gasp as the garment falls away before I can react.

Before it hits the floor, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, sliding them down until they pool around my ankles.

Matti’s hands are suddenly off me, and I realize my eyes are squeezed shut. I open them and turn around to find him stripping off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, his shoes and socks already off to the side.

Suddenly wide awake, I can’t stop myself from staring. He’s an asshole, a murderer, but holy shit, he is gorgeous. His body is a canvas of black tattoos from neck to knuckles to the deep V indented into his lower abdomen, every inch of him chiseled like stone. The silver pendant on his chain reflects the light and draws my attention to the veins standing out on his neck and shoulders.

Wetness gathers embarrassingly between my thighs as I wait for him to continue undressing, but he doesn’t. I drag my gaze back up his body to his rugged face. He pulls his belt out of the loops with a sharp crack, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he smirks at me watching him. I huff and look away abruptly, but can’t stop myself from watching him in my peripheral vision.

He steps back under the flow of water. Rivulets cascade down his chest, over the sharp lines of his abs, and soak into his pants as he rubs his hands through his hair. He steps back out, scrubbing his hand over his wet stubble.

“You’re not worried about ruining your suit?” I ask, trying for sarcasm and condescension, but the sight of him half-dressed while I’m naked has me feeling shy and exposed.

“I could give a fuck about the suit. I don’t want to hurt you with the buttons and buckles.” He pulls the metal chair over so that it’s just in front of the waterfall raining down from the shower head and sits down, patting his thigh. “Come here.”

I balk. He wants me to sit on his lap—naked? “Um, I’ll pass.”

His expression hardens. “You were on the floor when Ifound you. I don’t need you falling again. Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”

I cross my arms over my chest, jutting out my hip defiantly. “And if I don’t?”

He exhales slowly, leveling a glare at me. “Make this easy, or make it hard. Your choice, Siena.”

“What, no more ‘kitten’?” I ask mockingly, holding his stare and refusing to move.

He huffs out a breath in irritation. “Jesus Christ, I’m not going to fuck you, Siena, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I scoff. “No shit. No way I would let that happen.” But I still don’t move.

A wolfish grin teases at the corners of his mouth as he sits back and laces his fingers behind his head, showcasing his wet abs. “You think you could stop me from taking what I want?”

A shiver shoots through me as I take in the size of him: more than a foot taller than I am, wide shoulders, thick muscles everywhere. I doubt there are very many people in the world who could stop him from taking what he wants, and I know I’m definitely not one of them.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me? But no, I guess not,” I concede with a scowl.

Matti stands up slowly, the amusement sliding off his face. He steps in close to me, forcing me to tilt my head far back to look up at him. I start to shake.

“You’re wrong, Siena. One ‘no’ from you is enough to stop me from doing a lot of things.” He pauses, considering his words. “Not everything. But a lot of things.”

His lips part, and he dips his head an inch lower, his mouth hovering above mine. Not one inch of him is touching me, but my heart is pounding in my chest so hard it feels like it isn’t beating at all,just a constant thrum of energy.

“And I didn’t say I didn’t want you, kitten. I said I wasn’t going to fuck you right now.”

Right now?

I wish I could come up with something cutting to say, but he’s looking at me with such intensity that I’m rooted in place, unable to move, much less speak.

“Now, are you going to sit down so that I can I help you get cleaned up?”

It’s like he has a stranglehold on my throat, because I open my mouth and only a squeak comes out. I snap my lips closed and shake my head, trying to regain my voice.

“I can do it by myself,” I croak.

“So that’s a ‘no?’”

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