Page 127 of Embriagado

“You bet. I run, box, spar, weight-lift, and cycle⁠—”

“Ugh, not that bicycle again,” I grunted, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Seeing you on it is such a turnoff.”

He straightened in his seat. “D-does that mean there are things I do that turn you on?”

“You truly are a hopeless case, aren’t you?”

“I mean it!” He slammed his hands on the table and hovered over it. “Tell me so I can do them more—ouch!” he whined after I flicked his forehead.

“What’s the matter? I thought you liked pain.”

“Not this sort of pain,” he grunted, rubbing the bruise.

“Well, you can’t be picky. I’ll hurt you however I please.”

“As if I don’t know it already,” he grunted before looking at me again with his stupidly blue eyes. Only they weren’t really blue, more teal, as if they captured the moonlight in them.

“You want to know what turns me on?” I asked, chin raised and lips curled into a half smile.

Eager as a dog, he nodded. “Please.”

“Win your next fight and I might tell you.”

He didn’t seem disappointed; instead, his eyes filled with excitement, and seeing that precious expression on his face made my own heart beat a bit faster. Why? Because I couldn’t wait to have this beast fight and win for me.

I couldn’t wait to fully have him by the throat.

33

ARIYAN

“Would you stop moving so much?” I hissed, jaw set tight as I held the makeup blender sponge.

“But it’s ticklish,” he answered, his eyes closed, while continuing to bounce his knee.

I huffed, annoyed by this man-child who couldn’t even sit still for five minutes.

“Why do I need to put on makeup to begin with?” he grunted.

“Because—” I dabbed the sponge against his skin. “—we can’t have that handsome face of yours covered with bruises.”

I realized my mistake a little too late, as Mr. Rivas had already blinked his eyes open and was now staring at me in a way that made me uncomfortable.

“My handsome face?” A teasing little smirk tinged on his appetizing lips.

My stomach flipped at the sight, and wanting to distract myself, I dabbed the sponge in the foundation before bringing it to his face.

This time, I applied a bit more force as I patted the bruise under his brow to cover it up.

“Don’t get excited.” My mouth went dry. “Obviously, you’re good-looking. Pretending you’re not would be a waste of time.”

My skin flared as he continued to stare at me with those bright eyes and stupid smile.

“What do you want?” I snarled, annoyed by how much I wanted to run my fingers through his thick hair.

Without a shred of modesty, he reached forward and grabbed my wrist. His fingers softly caressed my skin, and closing my eyes, I let out a low breath. It had been years, if not more, since someone had touched me this tenderly, and when his other hand moved down to my waist, his hold firm and strong, I couldn’t help but bite my lips with pleasure.

Still sitting on the chair, he pulled me closer, his hands now wrapped around me in a tight embrace that felt so damn possessive. I loved it. And when he pulled me into his lap, I didn’t resist and instead willingly followed until my arms were wrapped around his thick neck. Years of hard work had forged his body into a masterpiece. He was all big muscles, and as I sat in his lap, they pressed against me like solid concrete.