“Wearen’t going anywhere,” I correct. “Nova and I are going for a walk.”
He chuckles. I don’t know what’s funny, but okay. “I’ll come with you guys. I drank too much last night, and could use the exercise.”
“Oh, is that why you showed up at my front door in the middle of the night after sending me a shitty dick pic?” I scoff.
Mateo gasps, clutching his chest like I offended him. “That was not a shitty dick pic,” he growls. “That picture was hot as fuck, and you know it.”
“Whatever you say,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. It wasnothot, and I most certainly didnotjack off to it before bed last night. Nope. Definitely didn’t do that.
We’re halfway down the block, and it’s becoming painfully clear he literally meant that he was joining us.
Great.
“Did you have a thrilling night in?” Mateo asks after several minutes of silence.
“It was fine.”
“Could’ve been better.”
He is unbelievable. “You’re awfully fucking full of yourself, you know that?”
Holding his hands up in mock innocence, he says, “I’m just saying.”
“How could it have been better, Mateo? Hmm?” I glance over at him, finding an unsurprisingly unreadable expression. “By accepting your invitation to come over and fuck me?”
Mateo’s brows pinch together. “Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious answer. “I don’t get why you’re fighting it. We had fun together, didn’t we?”
My eyes roll so hard of their own volition, and I groan. “That’s not the fucking point.”
“Then what is?” he asks dryly. “That you clearly are a masochist who gets off on denying yourself of a good time instead?”
“Oh, my fucking God.” Stopping mid-step, I turn to face him, the urge to deck him in his smug face growing stronger. “You act like you’re God’s gift to man, and that we should all just be falling at your fucking feet, begging you to fuck us all. News flash, you’re fuckingnot!”
Tugging on Nova’s leash, I begin walking, but back toward the apartment this time.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my fucking house.”
“Your dog didn’t get a very long walk.”
Fucking kill me now.
“Not your concern,” I grit out. Not even three seconds later, he’s sidled back up beside me. “Can you take a fucking hint?”
“Well,cariño,I live this way too.”
“Stop fucking call me that!”
“Why?” he asks, bringing his body impossibly closer to mine. “Because it turns you on, and you don’t like it?”
Scoffing, I say,” It doesn’t turn me on.”
It does.
“Oh, is that right?” Without warning, he shoves me into the nearest wall, slamming his mouth down on mine before my brain even has a chance to catch up. When my lips part in protest, he uses it as an invitation, slipping his tongue inside, brushing up against mine. My traitorous body vibrates with need, a pathetic fucking moan bubbling up my throat.
Mateo tastes like nicotine and mint, and the feeling of his hard body pressed against mine is intoxicating.And infuriating.
