33. ISABELLA
thirty-three
The car is filled with sexual tension as we drive through busy Friday-night traffic.
Mateo maintains a firm grip on my bare upper thigh, as if he’s unconvinced that I’m actually here and not going anywhere.
He maneuvers his Mercedes G-Wagon with ease, using only one hand to drive.
I’m tempted to make a joke and break the tension. Ever since he discreetly got us out of that lounge by only using subtle eye contact and chin lifts with the bouncers, he’s been quiet.
But a part of me, the part that has some form of self-preservation, knows now is not the time to poke the beast that lies beneath the surface.
I called strikeout.
And now I sit and impatiently wait for what comes next.
We pull into the garage, and he parks in a spot I’ve never noticed before. “Stay here,” he says as he slides out of his seat and closes his door. I take off my seat belt, and in the next moment, he’s there, opening my door. I take his offered hand and hop down. He makes no attempts to move when I do, putting us chest to chest.
He gives me one final heated look before he’s leading to the elevators. Once inside, I start to break. I don’t think I’ve ever been quiet this long in my entire life. “Mateo—”
He stops me from continuing as he points to the camera at the top corner of the elevator.
Damn.
The man has thought of everything. I wonder if that’s what it’s like being him. Having to know where all the possible media leaks may be. Not even being able to have open conversations in your own elevator.
The doors open, and he guides me inside with a secure hand on my lower back. The farther we get into the apartment, the farther that hand seems to travel south until it’s firmly planted on my ass.
I turn my head with a smirk on my face. Never thought I’d see the day when Mateo gets handsy with me.
As we reach the kitchen, he stops abruptly. Before I know it, his hands are on my waist, and I’m being lifted. I land softly on the kitchen island. Mateo quickly stepping into the space between my legs as I let out a small squeak.
One hand gently digs into the back of my head, intertwining with the loose curls, while the other finds its happy place once again on my upper thigh. “Did he kiss you?” His tone brooks no argument and has me shaking my head.
He hesitates momentarily. “Can I?” His eyes dig deep into my soul. For a moment, the lust dissipates, and in its place is pure devotion.
“Yes,” I whisper, desperate for him to finally kiss me and put me out of my misery.
He shifts closer between my legs, forcing them to open more to accommodate his size. The grip in my hair tightens slightly as he maneuvers me toward his lips. I’m mesmerized by the sight of his tongue swiping quickly over his bottom lip. So much so that I’m taken by surprise when he finally says, “Strike three, tesoro.”
Then his lips crash onto mine, devouring me.
A kiss filled with desperation and possession.
His tongue demands entry, and I quickly give it to him.
Our hands roam and explore one another.
I take advantage and discover every inch of his broad chest, then lower to where I know lies an impressive six-pack.
His mouth leaves mine in favor of my neck, surely leaving his mark as he goes. My hands dig into his short brown hair, and when my nails scrape lightly, he releases a low moan of pleasure.
He makes his way back up to my lips, kissing and nipping me into oblivion.
“Say it again,” he says gruffly.
I’m in no mood to play games, and I know exactly what he wants to hear. “Strikeout.”
“And what does that mean?” His nose nudges mine as his eyes drown in desire.
“That I’m yours.”
“You sure you want to be mine, Isabella? Think carefully, because there’s no coming back from this.”
My hands slowly make their way up his arms, noting every muscle from his biceps all the way to his shoulders, until I finally wrap them around his neck. I bring my lips close to his so we’re breathing each other in as I whisper, “Yes.”
I pull him back into me, no longer interested in anything other than the feel of his lips on mine.
“I can taste the tequila on your tongue, Isa.”
“Hmm, want to pour it elsewhere and see how it tastes?” I bait him.
“Fucking hell.” He takes a slight step back, leaving me panting and needy. “I can’t believe you’re real.” He stares intently at me, just as out of breath as I am.
Which makes me feel better, since he is a professional athlete and all.
I go to reach for him, but he holds my hand and kisses it tenderly.
Much too tenderly for my liking, because it feels like he’s cooling off while I’m burning up.
“Isabella, you’ve been drinking tonight. Why don’t we take it slow and continue this tomorrow, when I know you have a clear head?”
My eyes immediately drift up to the second floor.
Shit. I was so ready to mount this man in the middle of the kitchen that I didn’t take into account that his family is currently sleeping upstairs.
“They’re not here. If that’s what you’re wondering. They decided to sleep over at my mother’s house instead.”
“Oh.”
I can see the struggle in Mateo’s eyes. The man is good to his core, so much so that not even being splayed open on the counter for him like this would tempt him into taking what he wants if he believes he’d be taking advantage of me.
Which he wouldn’t be, because that kiss sobered me up instantly.
For a second, I start to panic that the moment has passed, that maybe this won’t actually happen. That I’ll be stuck angrily using one of my toys instead of the man standing in front of me, who looks like he can tear my dress off in two seconds.
But then I wait a beat.
Mateo’s always been cautious of my boundaries and wanting to make sure I’m comfortable. And as annoying as it is at a time like this, it does remind me that I’m lucky to have a man like him care for me. It also reminds me that I kind of smell like a bar and could probably do with some freshening up.
If this is going to happen tonight, it’s going to be because I take the lead and let him know he can have me fully.
So I decide to play along.
“You know what? You’re right.”
It’s a testament to what kind of man he is that not even a flicker of guilt or disappointment is sent my way. Instead, he nods, as if to confirm that he did the right thing.
If only he knew the surprise I have up my sleeve.
“I’m going to shower and head to bed. We can talk about this tomorrow, right?” I ask coyly.
“Of course. This changes nothing, Isabella. We go at your speed. No rush.” He dips low and kisses me softly, and for a moment, I forget I have a whole plan I need to execute.
I break the kiss, then hop off the counter. “Good night, Mateo.” I quickly make my way toward my room and avoid eye contact, because if he sees my face, he’ll know I’m up to something.
“Isa, do me a favor,” he says as I get to my room. “Lock your door tonight. For my sake.”
I nod my head quickly and dive into my room.
Little does he know…