The Predator's Restraint

Mateo’s teeth grazed the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. Ariana’s back was pressed so hard against the cold stone wall that she could feel the individual ridges of the masonry, but it was nothing compared to the scorching heat of the man pinning her down.

His hand, large and calloused, moved with agonizing slowness from her waist to her ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast. Ariana let out a broken, high-pitched whimper that echoed in the empty, moonlit hall.

She should pull away. She should scream for Camila. She should remember that this man had just been inside another woman minutes ago. But her body was a traitor, arching into his touch, her fingers digging into the silk of his robe as she chased the friction of his heavy, unsatisfied length against her thigh.

"M-Mateo," she breathed, the name a plea for him to either finish what he started or let her go.

Mateo stiffened. The sound of his name—spoken in that breathless, ruined tone—seemed to snap something inside him. He didn't move closer. Instead, he ripped his mouth away from her neck, his chest heaving as he stared down at her. His eyes were no longer just dark; they were predatory, filled with a hunger that looked like it wanted to devour her whole.

Slowly, deliberately, he withdrew his hand from her body. The loss of his warmth felt like a physical blow.

"Go to your room, Miss Cole," he rasped, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that set her nerves on fire. "Before we both do something that can't be undone. Before I forget whose daughter is sleeping just down the hall."

Ariana stood there, trembling, her lips parted and swollen. "I—"

"Go," he commanded, the word a sharp, clinical edge that sliced through the thick sexual tension. "Now."

Ariana didn't wait for a second order. She turned and fled, her bare feet silent on the marble as she bolted back to Camila's suite. She slipped under the covers next to her sleeping friend, her heart battering against her ribs like a trapped bird until dawn.

"Ari! Wake up, sleepyhead!" Cami’s voice was like a bucket of ice water. She was already bouncing on the mattress, full of infectious, carefree energy. "I’m starving, and we have so much to do. Come on, shower with me, we need to be downstairs in twenty minutes or Dad will have a coronary."

The two of them tumbled into the massive walk-in shower, giggling as they scrubbed the remnants of the party off their skin. Ariana tried to focus on Cami’s gossip, but every time she closed her eyes, she felt Mateo’s teeth on her neck.

"you're wearing my clothes today," Cami declared, dragging Ariana toward her massive walk-in closet.

Cami, never one for modesty, pulled out a skin-tight, emerald green rib-knit dress. It was dangerously short and featured a plunging back that left a vast expanse of Ariana’s pale skin exposed.

"Cami, I can't wear this," Ariana protested, staring at her reflection. The dress clung to every curve, and without a bra, her nipples were prominent against the fabric.

"You look hot! Stop being such a prude, we're in Spain," Cami laughed, dragging her toward the dining room.

The dining room felt like a pressurized chamber. Mateo was already seated at the head of the table, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his hair immaculate. He was reading a medical journal on his tablet, a cup of black coffee at his elbow.

He didn't look up when they entered.

"Good morning, Dad!" Cami chirped, kissing his cheek before sliding into her chair.

"Morning, Camila," Mateo replied, his voice a smooth, professional baritone.

Ariana sat opposite Cami, her heart hammering. She waited for him to acknowledge her. He didn't even lift his eyes. He ignored her with a cold, calculated precision that made her feel invisible. But she could see the way his jaw tightened when she shifted in the chair, the emerald dress riding up her thighs.

"Oh! Dad, I haven't properly introduced you two yet," Cami said, reaching for a piece of toast. " I want you to meet my best friend. Dad, this is Ariana Cole. She’s the brilliant nurse I told you about. She’s starting in your department after the New Year, Isn't she gorgeous!"

Mateo finally lowered his tablet. He didn't look at Cami. He turned his head slowly, his dark, hooded gaze finally locking onto Ariana. His eyes raked over her—from the plunging neckline to the way the green fabric hugged her hips. Ariana felt a flush creep up her chest as his pupils dilated, his grip on the tablet tightening until his knuckles went white. He was fighting for control, the image of her in that dress clearly driving him toward the edge of his restraint.

"Miss Cole," Mateo said, his voice dropping into a register that was far too intimate for a public breakfast. "I trust you found your... accommodations comfortable last night."

"Yes, Dr. Lopez," Ariana managed, her voice paper-thin.

"So, Ari," Cami said, oblivious to the suffocating tension. "You don't start at the hospital until the first week of January. Why spend the holidays alone in that tiny staff apartment? Dad, tell her! Ari should stay here with us for the holidays. It’s Christmas! She shouldn't be alone."

Ariana’s breath hitched. She looked at Mateo, pleading with her eyes for him to say no.

Mateo didn't blink. A slow, predatory shadow of a smile touched his lips—the look of a man who had just been handed exactly what he wanted on a silver platter.

"Camila is right," Mateo murmured, his gaze dropping pointedly to the exposed skin of her shoulder. "It would be a pity for Miss Cole to be alone... especially since she seems so prone to accidents in the dark."

Ariana’s hand jerked, the tea splashing against her lips as she choked and coughed violently, the hot liquid searing her throat.

"Ari! Oh my god!" Cami jumped up to pat her back. "Are you okay? It's just tea!"

Through her watering eyes, Ariana saw Mateo calmly pick up his coffee. He watched her struggle with a dark, satisfied glint in his eyes, his silence screaming a promise that made her blood run cold.

"Do be careful, Ariana," Mateo whispered over the rim of his cup, his voice a lethal caress. "I’d hate for you to lose your breath before I’ve even had the chance to show you the rest of the house."