Wild Bastard by Ella Savitskaya (most popular ebook readers .txt) 📗

"Do I have to bow at your feet for your interest in my direction?"

I snort, and then put my palm to my aching cheek. The cool fingers touch the hot skin, bringing a little relief. I don't want a bruise on my cheek. If Lana's dad comes and sees me painted up, he'll throw me out on the street.

Matt brakes at a traffic light and stares at me, his gaze resting on my cheek.

"Does it hurt? "

"What do you care? "

"Reenah, don't snap at me! "

"Or what? "

He suddenly brings his head close to me and wraps his arms around my neck. It doesn't hurt. He holds firmly while he speaks in my ear:

"It will be my turn. And if I bite, it will hurt! "

The short bristles, running down my skin, injects toxins into my cells, instantly spreading and inflaming my blood.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm a pretty good at biting, too! "

The hot exhale that burns my face makes me hold my own breath. He pulls away slightly to look me in the eye and smile sensually. His thumb goes to my lower lip and pulls it away.

"You're a really good at biting, Rie! So good that it makes me want to put my fingers in your mouth again! "

Such a statement makes me feel a twinge on the inside. Something hot and steaming explodes in my stomach. I instinctively lick my lips, touching his finger with my tongue, causing the irises of the blue eyes to darken almost completely. Matthew licks his lips without taking his eyes off mine, and I feel like he's just done it to me. My lips tingle, they burn. My heart starts to speed up as I realize what I'm doing.

I jerk my head back, thinking suddenly of Lana and the promise I'd made to her. God, I have to learn how to fight my own reactions. And find an apartment as soon as possible, because the more I'm around Matthew, the harder it becomes to fight him and myself.

I hear a slight chuckle, but I don't look at him anymore. I sit back in my chair and stare at the city. When we get home, I get out of the car as soon as possible and go to my room. I lock myself in just in case. Of course, if Matthew wants to, he can break the lock, but I hope he won't break down all the doors in his own house.

I can't sleep for at least another two hours. I think I can hear him walking down the corridor, down the stairs, and then forty minutes later coming back. I don't try to listen or think about what he's been doing all this time, but the very thought that I'm still thinking about him is infuriating.