So when the third margarita kicks in, I can’t help lightly flirting with him. It’s harmless for literally every reason, but he cuts off our night out and hauls me back to the car.
“No fair,” I tell him as he opens the car door and ushers me inside.
“You’ve had enough to drink.”
“It’s never enough,” I object buoyantly.
“Once you start talking about my shoulders, it’s enough.”
“Well, I’m sorry you have such sexy shoulders,” I tell him, shrugging. “That’s really your fault, not mine. Eat a doughnut once in a while. Sleep in instead of going to the gym.”
He shakes his head at me and closes the door.
I grin. It’s so much fun to mess with him.
My good cheer fades without a playmate though. By the time we’re halfway home, I’m floating in thoughts of all the things I won’t get to experience. I don’t want to just borrow Meg’s baby; I want my own.
“Do you think he’d hurt Meg?”
Adrian flicks a glance at me in the rear view mirror. He remains stoic so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Are you asking because you want him to, or because you don’t?”
My eyes widen and I sit up a little straighter. “Because I don’t, of course.”
“Then how ’bout you don’t bring it up to him,” he suggests.
“So you think he would?”
He doesn’t answer.
I watch out the window and keep quiet the rest of the way home.
Adrian and I part ways once we’re in the door. He goes back to his place with Elise, the only woman he loves, so naturally the mother of his child. Longing wraps itself around my heart and I try to untangle it. Ugh.
I go to the kitchen for more wine. Meg has Mateo tonight so I’m in for a full night alone with these shitty thoughts and feelings. It’s bound to get ugly. I don’t pour myself a single serving; I grab a glass in one hand, a full bottle in the other, and head upstairs.
I plop down on the couch in my sitting room and start on my first glass of wine. There’s a television in here, but I never really watch it. I want to sulk right now, wallow a bit, purge all my icky feelings so I can be happy for everybody tomorrow.
Only before I can finish my first glass and settle into my sulk, Mateo comes in.
I’m a bit drunk, so I grin and lean back against the couch, gazing up at him with unrestrained adoration. “Hello, there. Come back to get your jacket?”
“Oh, yes,” he says dryly, pausing behind the couch to look down at me. “I was lost without it.”
I smile and he walks around to take a seat beside me on my couch. “You probably were,” I tell him, my eyes raking over his body. God, he’s sexy. Abandoning my wine glass on the end table, I curl my legs up behind me and snuggle into his side. “How was your day?”
He secures his arm around me, pulling me closer. “It would be better if you weren’t mad at me.”
“Do I seem mad at you?”
Cocking a knowing eyebrow, he says, “You only flirt with Adrian when I’ve pissed you off.”
Sighing heavily, I run my hand across his muscular chest, toying with a button on his dress shirt as I lament, “Adrian is such a tattletale.”
“You like when he tells on you,” Mateo states, his hand moving through my hair tenderly, sending a shock of pleasure through my veins. Anticipation makes my heart beat faster. His tender caress shifts and he fists my hair in his strong hand, tugging my head back. He leans in to kiss my neck, murmuring against the tender skin, “You like when I remind you who you belong to.”
He’s not wrong. An answering shiver runs through me, arousal coiling up within as his free hand finds my waist. He tugs me into his lap, giving me a tender squeeze. I spread my legs and adjust myself so I’m straddling him. He still has his hand in my hair, but he lets me have enough leeway to lean in and kiss him. My hand drifts down his chest, sliding down between our bodies to caress him through his pants. He’s already hard and I grin against his perfect lips.
“Somebody’s happy to see me.”
He returns the smile, yanking me back by the hair and, in one smooth motion, laying me down on my back and crawling on top of me. “Always.”
He releases my hair now, his hand moving along the delicate curve of my collar bone. Then his fingers close around my neck, not tightly, but it still makes my heart beat in my throat as his other hand moves between my legs.
“Don’t move,” he tells me, as his fingers move up under my white, lace panties.
An impossible command, but as he pushes a finger inside me, I fight the urge to squirm. My breath hitches. Mateo watches me, applying a little more pressure to my throat as he pushes a second finger inside me. A helpless sound slips out of me but as difficult as it is, I keep my body still and meet his gaze. His gorgeous brown eyes watch me with such intensity as his long fingers pump in and out of my body, brushing my clit and stealing the breath right from me.