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And it wasn’t a gentle push. Anyone else and they’d have been thrown through the brick wall across from him when Indio punched them for touching him. As it was, however, he had to calm his temper, especially when the brat yelled, “Don’t fucking tell me what to do! What the fuck is your problem with me?”
Selestino Carrillo was standing so close, challenging him, staring him right in the eye and not backing down a bit. That not only intrigued Indio, but it also turned him on. Still, there was no way he could fuck the guy and be allowed to live.
No, he was protected, sheltered, always treated gently and loved. Indio could bet no one put out cigarettes on his skin for kicks. “You don’t want to mess with me.”
Selestino’s nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge. It was sexy. “You’re the one messing with me. Why?”
“Maybe I don’t like spoiled kids pretending to be grownups.”
The guy was way too close to him. Indio felt his Italian heat like he was a blowtorch, and he couldn’t let himself sweat. Sel’s eyes moved down his face to Indio’s lips and they stayed there, and he’d never experienced something so simple being possibly the sexiest thing that’d happened to him in his life.
When Sel’s eyes met his again, one brow rose slowly, and Sel smirked. “You have no fucking idea how grownup I am.”
In a flourish, he turned away from Indio and started back to the stairs. Of course, Indio’s eyes went right for that tight little bubble ass, sitting pretty in those jeans that probably cost more than Indio’s ’94 Road King.
The trip up the stairs for Sel was much quieter than the trip down had been. Indio could breathe again once he was out of sight at the top and he sat back on the cot, shaking his head as he smiled.
That didn’t last long, as the door was shaken. Then a fist pounded on the thing. “Hey! Hey, someone locked the door!”
After a long sigh, Indio got back up to go help the kid open the door. He probably had had someone open them for him all his life. He ran up the stairs and pushed him to the side, setting his hand on the knob. “You turn it.”
“Go for it! By all means!”
Indio did and discovered quickly it was locked. “Who the fuck is playing games?”
He looked right at Sel, who snapped, “Yeah, like I want to be stuck with you.” After Indio used the side of his fist to pound on the door, Sel snarked, “Gee, if only I’d have thought of that.”
“Go fuck yourself, rich boy.”
“Better fuck than you’d ever be to anyone.”
Before he thought better of it, his left hand landed on Sel’s chest and he was pushed back to the wall on the side of the staircase, his right hand curling into a fist. As he lifted his fist, his entire childhood went through his head, seeing his own face where Sel’s wide-eyed fear was obvious, remembering…
After Sel slammed his eyes shut, Indio punched, but at the very last second, his fist moved off to the right and hit the wall, disappearing completely into the hole he’d made.
Breathing slow and steady, he stared at Sel until he opened his eyes again, and Indio was surprised to see he wasn’t freaking out about almost getting punched in the face. Instead, he grabbed Indio’s wrist to move the hand off his chest.
“Take your fucking hand off me,” Sel gritted, and the words seemed to come from somewhere so deep in him, it sounded nothing like him. After pulling his hand out from the sheetrock, the dust falling over Sel’s shoulder like snow, he felt how his body responded to being so close to the guy.
For the first time, Indio saw him as a fully grown man, and not only that, but a powerful one. Maybe he was born for the position of boss.
Indio, however, wasn’t one to take someone ordering him around. In fact, when he was a prospect for the Aztecas, it took every bit of willpower not to fuck up the members as they tossed orders to him like he was a fucking lowlife.
For the hatred that passed between them, neither made a move to leave that spot. Neither was banging on the door, and he hadn’t taken his eyes from Selestino’s.
Licking his lips, Selestino’s eyes moved to Indio’s lips again, and his words came less biting. “Why do you hate me?”
Indio felt like putting his fist through the wall again.
There was no denying heat had risen between them from the first, but Indio didn’t work that way. He didn’t fall for pretty boys, and certainly not rich pretty boys.
And Selestino Carrillo was pretty. The perfect prince charming to his beast.
“Why do you think I hate you?”
“Really?” he asked with a dry laugh following, then his tongue licked over his bottom lip, and Indio wondered if he was doing that on purpose to seduce him.
“I don’t hate you, okay?”
