Page 85 of Raspados & Regret

I take one step closer, and his head tips back farther to keep his eyes on mine.

“What do you want?” I ask.

His voice is hoarse. “You.”

The word hits low and deep. “Be specific.”

He almost smiles.

Almost.

Then it fades into something hungrier.

“I want another kiss,” he says, tongue darting out to moisten his perfect bottom lip. “I need your mouth because I wanna taste you again. So I can stop thinking about every man you flirted with tonight to try and make me feel some type of way. Because even though none of them know what you taste like, and I do, you and your perfect mouth still have me all fucked up inside.”

I forget how to breathe.

Fabián’s palms flatten on his thighs.

“Please,” he says again, quieter, and that makes it worse. “Muñeco, I need another kiss.”

There it is.

Badass Crop Top Papi on his knees on my porch, begging with his whole chest.

The universe should have warned me.

Sent a text.

One of those airplanes with a banner in the sky.

A fucking flaming mango.

Something.

I step forward and touch his jaw. He turns into the touch like he hates how much he needs it. My thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.

It’s the same place he touched me. Same place this whole thing started turning into something we couldn’t laugh off.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” I whisper.

His eyes close for half a second, and when they open, he looks wrecked.

“Fuck, Lalo.”

I bend just enough that my mouth hovers over his. “Say please again.”

His breath shakes against my lips.

“Porfa, Muñeco.”

I kiss him, and he makes a sound that goes straight through me.

Broken.

His hands come up, but he stops himself before touching me, like he is waiting for permission he doesn’t know how to ask for.

Fuck. Me.