Mateo leans down and lets Anna hop out of his hold. I can sense his wrath coming my way, but before he makes a move, Beth speaks again.
“Oh, and Matí, hijo? Can you thank Isa for slaving in the kitchen all morning to make your daughter happy by making her dream breakfast? And for making all this food for your building staff? We couldn’t have done it without her.” She smiles smugly,knowing she gave him a public motherly warning to go easy on me. I squeal on the inside.
She makes her way to the stairs as she says, “And don’t forget to leave an extra tip for your cleaning crew. Something tells me we’re going to be pulling sprinkles out of nooks and crannies for a few weeks.”
Damnit, Beth. You could have left that part out.
Once they’re out of sight, Mateo starts to make his way toward me, his sneakers loudly crunching over the rainbow runway.
Naturally, I open with the dumbest statement possible. “You’re home. Um, yay?” I smile awkwardly as he stands close to me. “I, uh, thought that you were coming in later, and, uh, I’d have this whole mess cleaned up by then.” I gulp audibly as I take in the disaster zone that was formerly a kitchen. “Well, maybe notthismess we’re standing in.” I point to the ground below us. “I didn’t know sprinkle cannons were a thing, but I promise I’ll figure out a way to have it cleaned up. It was my fault, and your cleaning team shouldn’t have to—”
“Isabella.”
My name on his lips stops my entire body from fidgeting, as if it recognizes the need to follow the simple command from this man only.
“Yeah?”
He leans in even closer. “Thank you.”
A startled laugh escapes my lips. I know I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but I can’t help but ask, “For what? Turning your home into a sprinkle bomb testing center?”
The side of his mouth tips up slightly, almost teasing me with a smile I didn’t realize I wanted so badly until now.
“My mother told me to say thank you.” He pauses as he slowly takes me in. “You think I wasn’t raised right?” he taunts, his voice playful while his face remains lethal.
His eyes trail over my face, stopping at my right cheek. The front of his hips almost touches mine. The only reason we’re not breathing each other’s air is because he’s probably got a foot on my height. But then he dips his head, and I almost forget to breathe.
I notice him raise his hand in my periphery, but my eyes are glued to his. The gold in his hazel eyes seems to grow darker with every passing second.
He clears his throat. “You have some flour on your cheek.” His hand continues to hover, waiting for permission, it seems. I try to nod but can barely move out of this hypnotic state. I must have dipped my head just enough for him to proceed. Cradling my face in his massive, callused hand, he uses his thumb to lightly brush away the white substance from my face.
“It’s powdered sugar,” I correct him. “I was adding sugar to the batter before you got here.”
“Is it now?” His voice turns low and dangerous.
With his eyes holding mine hostage, he continues to lower his face.
Fucking hell. He’s going to kiss me.
We’re in the middle of the kitchen, with his mother and daughter upstairs, but in this moment, I couldn’t even tell you my birthday.
Mateo is going to fucking kiss me.
And apparently, I’m not going to stop him.
Just as his breath mingles with mine, he sticks out his tongue and licks the sugar off his thumb. A rush of breath leaves my chest as he whispers, “So fucking sweet.”
I bite my lip to hold in the moan that’s on the verge of escaping. His eyes latch on to the movement, and in my libido induced haze, I ask, “Is there sugar on my lips too?” without realizing what I’ve done.
He lets out a low growl so deep in his chest I can feel it through where he’s holding me.
He moves too quickly for my mind to understand that he’s no longer within kissing range. Instead, his lips ghost over my ear as he whispers, “Strike two.”
And then he’s gone.
nineteen
“Did you step ina rainbow turd this morning? Was it the food we ate on your plane?”
