Page 40 of Miguel
“God knows why.” I stood up, rolling my eyes in her direction. “Will you be okay by yourself in here? I’ll be staying just across the hall.”
At the question, I witnessed a flush crawl up her neck and stain her cheeks. My eyes narrowed on the action and something clicked. I mean, this was Mayan’s room after all…
“Oh, I see.”
Desiree huffed. “He’s an insufferable brute. He kept saying that he was going to stand guard for me tonight. As if I need his protection.”
“If anything, he needs protection from you. You did whack him with a frying pan.”
She blushed a deeper shade of crimson. “I thought he was a robber!”
“He seems like he has a thick skull. Don’t feel so bad about it.”
“Trust me, I won’t.”
Laughing and feeling a bit lighter knowing she was going to be okay–or as okay as she could be under the circumstances–I left.
Before reentering Miguel’s room, I forced steel into my spine and took a deep breath. I needed to be stronger in his presence, not let his voice, his gaze, make me weak in the knees. This visceral reaction I had to him was unhealthy. Because I could see myself falling for him. Forget the fact that we hadn’t known one another long enough. He was the kind of man who could hold every single piece of me in the palm of his hand, and I was afraid he’d break me.
When I felt steadier on my feet, I pushed the door open and went inside. Miguel was looking at his phone screen when I entered, slowly pocketing it as I closed the door.
“All good?” he asked, brows kicking up his forehead. He looked so calm sitting there, so unaware of the turmoil he caused to my insides.
I breathed a sigh. “Yeah, Desi is fine. Shaken up, but I think she’ll be okay.”
I just hoped she would finally open up about the harder stuff. I told myself I just had to give her time. She just needed time.
A part of me was hurt that she found it so hard to open up to me, but a bigger part understood. Sometimes diving deep into yourself was challenging. It wasn’t that there existed a lack of trust, but the lack of ability to form your emotions into words in a way where someone else could understand. Where they wouldn’t judge or see you in a different light because of what you harbored deep inside.
“How are you?” Miguel asked, eyes searching as they looked over me like he was gauging for injuries.
I assessed myself before answering. Physically, I was fine. Mentally? I was still shaken up, and yet with him near, I felt safe. It bothered me more than the break-in.
“I’m okay.” At least for now. I didn’t say that, though. I didn’t need to, because Miguel seemed perceptive of my moods.
“Come here,” he ordered softly, opening his arms out in invitation. I gravitated towards them, my body moving of its own volition until I found myself enveloped in the warmth of his body. He smelled like car grease and tequila and ice cream. None of it should have been such a heady combination, but it somehow worked, making me inhale deeply. I all but buried my face into the leather cut, taking in his essence.
For a second, I wanted to forget all my reservations. I wanted to forget that Miguel was the father of my student and that I didn’t get involved with parents, regardless of my boss’s suspicious and sudden change of heart. That Miguel and I were completely wrong for one another if only because we came from completely different worlds.
Fresona kinder teacher and the leather-clad Diablo.
It sounded like the start of a telenovela. One I was sure would end in drama and tragedy. But for now, I’d relish in this. In his touch, his scent, and the way his strong arms held me close, like even he was afraid of letting me go.
But he would have to. Eventually. It didn’t really matter how right it felt to have his arms wrapped around me, or that I could vividly picture a future that my heart so desperately wanted. This was nothing more than a fantasy of two people from different worlds, with different goals, different lives.
Just for tonight, I would pretend.
His lips pressed to the top of my head and a shiver slid down my spine.
“Come to bed, nena,” he whispered, and the words sounded like a plea. “Let’s go to sleep.”
Chapter Sixteen
Miguel
Lorenawasnervous.Herhands flittered like little butterflies startled by gusts of wind, flapping against the material of her floral little dress. A dress that hugged every curve. A dress that had hiked high up her thick thighs when she’d gotten on the back of my bike. Thighs that I wanted to split apart and bury myself in between like a starving man.
I made her nervous. What she felt for me had her scurrying across the hall with an excuse that she needed to see how her best friend was doing. Of course, I was sure she was worried about her friend, but she was more frightened of her rapid-growing feelings for me.
