Hate Me, Love Me (Ongoing)

Chapter 17

Anastasia's POV
I had another nightmare. It was the same nightmare I've had since I was four years old. Only this time, a new, forgotten memory had surfaced. Someone had grabbed me while I was on the phone with my grandfather. He held a gun to my head. I was supposed to die that night. So why didn't I?

Thinking that would be the end of my nightmares, I woke up to an even worse nightmare.

My eyes widened as I stared at a sleeping Mateo barely inches from me. What is he doing in my room? He had a tatted arm resting over his eyes, and I didn't know whether to scream, shove him, or run away.

I remained completely still. The last thing I wanted to do was wake him. Remembering what I'd done to his closet and on his bed last night, I swallowed. Mateo is hard to read. He's unpredictable. I don't know if he saw all of his shredded clothes or if he saw me touch myself on his bed, but I know that I didn't want to find out.

My eyes slowly drift down the length of his body. He's shirtless, the comforter just low enough to expose his sculpted torso, and v line. There's a thin strip of hair sprouting around his naval before it disappears past his pelvis. I swallowed a second time. Mateo really is a beautiful monster.

Realizing I've never slept in the same bed as a man before, especially a half-naked one, a blush warms my cheeks. I'm tempted to touch him. I want to know if he's as warm as he looks.

It's strange. He doesn't look so threatening like this. I hate to admit it, but I kind of like it.

My gaze lifts, and my heart drops when I recognize the mirror.

Shit.

This isn't my room. Realization dawns on me. Did he bring me up here? Why? Does he know what I did? Is this a part of his nefarious plot to murder me? So many thoughts are running through my head.

I need to get out of here. I push the comforter off of me. Just as I'm about to get up, something heavy is slung over me. I gasped softly, looking down to see its Mateo's arm. Trapped, I attempt to slip out from under him.

Suddenly, his arm wraps around my waist, and I'm roughly pulled into him. When I look back at him, he's still fast asleep.

Again, I attempt to escape. And again, I fail. He's oddly strong as hell in his sleep. Rolling over, I let out a squeal when my lips nearly brushed his.

The arm around my waist shifts down, his hand on my ass. I'm pushed into him, something hard digging into my inner thigh. I become hot and achy all over, my face as red as a tomato.

Mateo lowers his head, and I'm completely caught off guard when he flicks his tongue over the thin fabric of my pink tank top. A soft cry spills past my lips. The area where his tongue had been is wet, my nipple pebbling against it.

I have no idea if he knows what he's doing in his sleep. Or that it's me he's doing it to.

Unsure of how to wake him, I don't bother trying to be discreet as I push him off me.

The moment I'm free, I scramble out of the bed and distance myself from him. Mateo wakes. He yawns, amber eyes fluttering open and immediately fixating on me.

My face is red, and my breaths labored as he stares at me with this unimpressed expression on his face. He has no clue he'd just assaulted me in his sleep. Though I'm not too sure that word is appropriate considering what it ignited in me.

Mateo's gaze lazily roams down to my breasts. I quickly fold my arms over my chest to shield the wet spot and my hardened nipples from his gaze.

His eyes splice back up to me. He tilts his head in a way that reminds me of an adorable, curious puppy. Strands of dark curls fall forward, his voice low and filled with a slight rasp as he asks, "Who did you think about?"

My brows furrow in confusion. I don't know what he means. Who did I think about? When?

He clarifies as if he can see my responses swirling around in my head. "When you touched yourself."

My eyes feel as though they are going to pop out of the socket they're so wide. He saw the video! My thighs pinch together. He notices, seeming to pay close attention to my every move.

"The cameras are there for your protection. Nothing more."

My eyes roll, despite the way my shoulders relax. Even so, it still doesn't give him the right to film me without my knowledge or consent.

"And the nightmares?" He questions, changing the entire subject. I'm relieved. "Am I the monster in them?"

I freeze at his question. He must have heard me last night. That must be the reason I ended up in his bed. Something I'm having a hard time deciphering flits in his eyes, but disappears the moment I shake my head no in response.

As much as I would have enjoyed making him out to be the monster tormenting me in my dreams at night, he's not. But that doesn't mean he's not the nightmare that haunts me when I'm awake.

Mateo rises to his feet. There's a brief moment of silence that passes between us. I'm frozen in place, afraid to move. I still don't know what he's thinking.

You know," he begins, slowly sauntering towards me, "despite that little tantrum you pulled, I am in no mood to fight." He closes the distance between us, grasping my chin in a rough manner. "Besides, you're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want out of this arrangement."

A smirk slowly makes its way onto my face. If he thought that was all I was capable of, then the Italian mob boss is sorely mistaken. I've only just begun.