Chapter 10

I slammed into the mansion, the pulse pounding in my ears like a stampede. The front door shut behind me with a heavy thud that echoed through the marble foyer, and I took the stairs three at a time, feeling my blood boiling at a dangerous temperature. The vibration of my phone in my pocket was still burning against my thigh, as if that picture of Mateo and his brazen text had been branded into my skin.

And there he was. Standing right in the middle of the hallway under the skylight, looking completely unbothered, like he owned the damn place. He was wearing my gray pajama pants—a pair that hung loose on me, but fit him outrageously tight around the hips and thighs—and he was completely shirtless. Drops of water from his recent shower were slowly running down the center of his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs before disappearing under the waistband of the pants.

“I’ve had it with you, Mateo!” I yelled, closing the distance in long strides until I was less than three feet from his face. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just grab my clothes like they’re yours or send me those stupid, ridiculous messages! What the hell are you trying to do?”

Mateo didn’t even blink. He tilted his head with infuriating slowness and let out a low chuckle, a murmur that seemed to come straight from his chest. He crossed his arms over his torso, flexing his biceps and tightening the skin over his shoulders. He was mocking me. He wasn’t taking a single word seriously, and the amusement in his dark eyes drove me insane.

“Calm down, *little brother*,” he said in that insufferable tone he always used, like everything was just a fucking joke. “If you hate me wearing your pants that much... come over here and take them off me yourself.”

My brain flipped from pure rage. I’d had enough. I cleared the few inches separating us and jabbed my index finger right into the center of his chest. His skin was burning hot, firm, and slightly damp.

“Tell me what the fuck you’re playing at!” I demanded, trembling with fury, my breath hitching. “If you’re doing all this just to mess with me, you need to stop right now! Stop acting like a fucking gay guy. I already hate you enough without you pulling this bullshit.”

Mateo’s smirking smile vanished instantly. The playful warmth in his eyes died out. He took a step forward, forcing me to tilt my chin up.

“Do you really hate me, Lucas?” he asked. His voice lost all its sarcasm; it was a dense whisper, laced with a quiet threat.

“Yes, I hate you!” I shouted right in his face, completely overwhelmed by the lies and the pressure. “I hate your stupid face, I hate how you play on the ice, I hate having you around, I hate seeing you every single second, and I hate what you did to Sofi... you broke the heart of the best girl in the world! I despise you, Mateo. It’s punishment enough having to endure you under this roof. I don't want an asshole like you in my life, let alone as my brother!”

A dead silence fell over the hallway. I could hear the hum of the air conditioner and the frantic rhythm of my own breathing.

Mateo didn’t answer with words. He drew himself up to his full height, towering over me with that physical presence that intimidated everyone on the hockey rink. He moved with terrifying speed, and before I could take a step back, he grabbed my shoulder with an open palm and slammed my back against the wooden wall of the hallway.

The impact knocked the air right out of my lungs, but I didn't get a second to catch it. Mateo pressed against me immediately, pinning my hips with his own. The sheer weight of his bare body was a wall of muscle and heat trapping me against the cold wall. In one fluid motion, he pinned both of my wrists over my head with a single hand, crushing them against the wood.

His free hand didn't stay still. It dropped straight to my waist and shoved roughly under my t-shirt.

A gasp caught in my throat. Mateo’s palm was huge, rough from training, and burning hot. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my side, squeezing with just enough force to make my stomach tighten and press my body even closer to his. The direct contact of his skin against mine sent an electric shock straight down my spine, melting half my rage into a hot, traitorous surge of desire.

“Oh, yeah?” Mateo murmured, leaning down over my neck.

His warm breath brushed against the sensitive skin behind my ear, sending a violent shiver down to the tiny hairs on my neck. He didn't loosen his grip on my wrists; instead, he tightened it as he shifted his hips forward, leaving no mistake about the hard pressure between our bodies through the fabric of our clothes. It was absolute physical dominance, a sheer display of power that took my breath away.

“You say you hate me...” he continued, trailing his mouth down to the line of my jaw. His tongue pressed a slow, wet path against the skin of my neck, right over my racing pulse. “But your heart is about to burst out of your chest, *little brother*.”

“Let go of me, Mateo...” I pleaded, but the command came out broken, reduced to a breathless whisper. My legs were starting to feel like lead under the weight of his body and the relentless touch of his hand sliding up my ribs, brushing the bottom edge of my chest.

“Not until I find out how much you really hate me,” he whispered against my ear, forcing his thigh between mine to push them apart as his fingers dug firmer into my bare skin. “Let’s see if you can look me in the eye and say it again while I touch you like this.”