Page 45 of The One Night Match
I never thought I’d have to fight a cat for the affection of the woman I’m obsessed with, and yet here we are.
TWENTY-THREE
RILEY
Just like every morning I’ve woken up here, I wake up burning hot.
Except there’s something different about this morning.
It takes me a few seconds to pry my eyes open, too comfortable to care why today is any different, but as soon as I do, my entire body stiffens.
Because I’m not in my room.
And I’m not in the dress I fell asleep in.
And once again, I’m not alone.
Cruz is pressed against my back, his bare chest radiating heat as the shirt I’m wearing does nothing to protect me from it.
His arms hold me steady against him so tight I think his subconscious is worried about me slipping away.
I take my time perusing the room without moving. The first thing I notice is how dark it is in here. Every surface is black or dark gray, but the way the morning sun hits everything makes it work. It’s not my usual style, but I find that I like it.
The comforter is a dark shade of gray, disrupted only by the little orange body wedged against my stomach, and I realize they have me sandwiched between them.
“Go back to sleep,” Cruz murmurs, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
“What am I doing in your bed?”
“Our bed,” he corrects me.
“My bed is down the hallway.”
“Not anymore.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he carefully rolls me under him, making sure not to jostle Mr. Whiskers. The two of them seem to be bickering less the longer I’m here, which I realize is a weird thing to say about a Mafia boss and a cat, but I’m starting to think maybe I should record the way the two of them argue for social media.
People love shit like that.
It’s me. I’m people.
Cruz’s body presses mine into the mattress, his hips pinning mine in place as he stares down at me with so much heat it takes my breath away.
God, why does he have to be so attractive?
It would have been much easier to resist him if he were an overweight, balding man like most Mafia bosses.
“You have no idea how fucking sexy you look with your hair spread across my pillows,” he murmurs. He dips his head and presses a kiss to my temple, then my cheek, my jaw, and finally the sensitive place on my throat that he found our first night together.
“Yes, I’m sure I’m a real sight with last night’s makeup smeared across my face, morning breath, and bedhead.”
He chuckles, pulling back just enough to reposition himself with his very large erection pressed against my core. “Does it feel like those things don’t turn me the fuck on, Kitten?”
I press my eyes closed and stifle the moan that tries to escape my throat. It’s been almost two weeks since our romp in hisoffice at the club, but the memory of how he stretched me, of the bite of pain as he fucked me against his desk, is just as fresh as it was that night.
He nips at my jaw, setting free the moan I desperately tried to hold at bay. “You can pretend I don’t affect you all you want, Riley, but I can see how badly you want me. I know how badly you want to give in to me, even as your mind tries to deny it.”
