Page 24 of Eighteen (18)

I get up and walk over to the slider. His eyes track up and down my body, taking in my bare legs and shoulders. “What do you want?”

“Just to talk,” he says.

I open the slider a few inches. “I don’t want to talk, Mateo.” As soon as I say his name, he smiles and Jesus Christ, that flutter is back. I actually get wet for his smile. “I’m busy watching my niece,” I say, trying to cover my reaction.

“I need to know if you wanted it or not.”

“What?”

“Did you want it, Shannon? Because if you didn’t, I’m fucking sorry, OK?”

I stare at him. He’s got no jacket on even though it’s chilly out, and I can see all his tattoos in the light that filters through the bushes alongside the freeway. He’s very tall and I’m not, but I’m standing on the ledge of the slider, so I’m about up to his chin right now. He leans forward, pressing his hands on either side of the glass and doorjamb, so that I’m between his arms. I can’t help but look at the shadows that form on the curve of his muscles.

I have no clue what to say. Yes, I wanted it. I’d do it again if he made another move. But I don’t want to tell him that. I feel like he’s pulling me into something that feels good in all the wrong ways.

“Can I come inside?”

“My brother-in-law—”

“Is out. I just watched him go.”

“He’ll be back though.”

“When?” Mateo’s eyes drop to my breasts, which are responding much like the wetness pooling between my legs. A few seconds later and I’m throbbing for him. What the fuck is wrong with me? “When, Shannon?”

“Why?”

“Because I think I gave you the wrong impression back at school.”

“What impression did you give me?”

“You tell me.”

“Look—”

He reaches out and touches my peaked nipple. He pinches it, rolls it between his fingers. And even though I know I should stop him or slap his face, I am still.

“You like it,” he says, not a question. “Just admit it. You like it.” And then his whole hand grabs my breast and he squeezes, but not hard. A slow, kneading squeeze that ignites the desire inside me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why aren’t you stopping me? Hmm?” he asks, just before he leans in and kisses me on the mouth. It’s different this time. It’s soft and slow. His lips aren’t as hard and pressing. His tongue slips inside me and we tangle together. His hand wraps around my head, urging me to kiss him deeper. And just as I start to get into it, he pulls back. “Is he really your boyfriend?”

“What?” I swallow, looking into his green eyes.

“That guy who picked you up. Is he really your boyfriend? Because I’ve seen you with him before.”

“Why are you watching me?”

“Answer my question first.”

“No. Just friends,” I say, my heart beating faster. “So far,” I add.

Mateo stares into my eyes for a few moments of silence. “You’re going to stay just friends, understand?”

“What if I don’t want to be just friends with him?”

“Then I won’t fuck you again.”