Page 63 of Raspados & Regret

He smirks at my lips. “You started it.”

“You practically begged for it,” I chuckle.

“I did not⁠—”

I kiss him again before he can finish the lie, and this one is worse. Better? Messier for sure.

His glasses press crooked between us, bumping my forehead, and I pull back just enough to yank them off his face because I need to see him, need to see what I’m doing to him without anything in the way.

He blinks up at me, eyes bare and blown wide, pupils blown dark, and for half a second I forget how to breathe. Without the glasses, he looks younger. Not soft but more open. More dangerous because there is nothing between us now—no plastic, no pretense, just Elías looking at me like I am the only thing in the world worth looking at, like he wants to memorize exactly how I’m looking at him right now.

Or maybe he’s blind as shit without them? What do I know?

He reaches for them, fingers trembling slightly. “Careful.”

I hold them just out of his reach and fold them with one hand, hooking them into the collar of my crop top, letting them hang against my chest. “I got’em”.

His eyes drop to where the glasses rest against my skin, and his mouth goes slack, lips parted, wet from my mouth. Then he laughs, low and rough and broken. “No mames.”

“What?”

“That’s—” He swallows, throat working. “That’s so fucking hot.”

I almost smile. Almost.

Instead, I grab his hips with both hands, and he stops laughing immediately. My fingers dig into warm skin above the waistband of those stupid black shorts, thumbs pressing into the sharp juts of his hipbones, and I have hated these shorts all night, have wanted them on my floor all night, and now I have my hands under them, skin to skin, and he gasps like I’ve electrocuted him.

Elías’s hands slide over my shoulders, then down my chest with intent. When his thumbs catch on the silver bars through my nipples under the thin cotton, the shock of it punches through me like a live wire to the gut.

I hiss through my teeth, arching into his touch without meaning to, and he freezes for one heartbeat⁠—

Then his face changes.

Bad.

Bad for me.

“Oh,” he breathes, and it sounds like discovery, like victory.

I grip his hips tighter, thumbs pressing into the hollows. “Don’t.”

His thumbs brush over them again.

My whole body tightens like a spring, stomach muscles jumping under his palms. “Elías.”

“That a yes?”

“That’s a warning.”

His tongue ring clicks against his teeth, and he’s smiling now, that smug, devastating smile that makes me want to fuck him and fight him and never let him go. “You keep giving me those.”

“And you keep ignoring them, but you know what I think?” I whisper, gripping his hips a little harder.

“That maybe I’m a slut for consequences?”

I push one thigh between his legs, pressing up hard, and his words die in his throat. “No te hagas, muñeco.”

The moment the word slips from my lips, there’s silence.