Page 95 of Raspados & Regret

“Drawer,” he whispers. “Left side.”

I lift my head, and he nods toward the nightstand.

I reach over, open the drawer, and find lube and condoms. My hand stills, and Elías notices the hesitation.

He touches my wrist. “Hey.”

I look at him.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” My voice sounds rough because wanting him this much is starting to feel like pressure behind my ribs. I grab the condom box first. “I’ll wear one if you want me to.”

Elías stills underneath me, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand slides from my wrist to my jaw. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I swallow. “I mean, whatever you want. I should have said that before. Of course I’ll wear one.”

His eyes search mine.

“I got tested like three or four weeks ago,” he says. “After my last hookup. Everything came back good.”

“I got checked after my ex and I split eight months ago,” I tell him. “I’m good too.”

His thumb drags along my jaw. “Anyone since?”

“Does my hand count?”

Elías blinks, then he laughs, quiet and bright, and I kiss him before the sound can do more damage.

“Your hand loyal?” he whispers against my mouth.

“Very.”

“Good.” His fingers curl against my jaw. “I wanna feel you.”

Everything in me goes still. “Elías.”

“I need to feel you,” he says again, softer. “No condom. Unless you need one.”

Need.

Want.

Scared.

Not scared.

All of it tangles together.

I touch his face because if I don’t touch him, my hands will shake harder. “I don’t need one.”

His eyes darken. “Then don’t hide from me.”

The next few minutes are all quiet instructions and bitten-back sounds, but I need more than that. I need to taste him. I need to know what I’m doing before I’m inside him, terrified of getting it wrong.