Chapter 31
chapter thirty-one
priscilla
I was squirming. Like my damn pants were on fire.
We went from deep conversation, to wanting to tear each other’s clothes off in the freaking family room in seconds.
And the fuck fest wasn’t over either. As soon as Tom and Milo stopped, Nesto and Jude picked up the relay baton and there had been nothing but Si, Papi.
And Just like that, Nesto for the last fifteen minutes.
I was starting to fear that Juan Pablo had either knocked himself out in the bathroom or was going to give himself pneumonia, because there was no fucking way there was any hot water left.
“Shit.” I was so turned on, but I would not succumb.
No, things were going well. J was supportive and awesome and I would lie if I didn’t say that I was feeling things.
Things I thought were long gone for me. But there was a difference.
J had been a friend to me in the past few weeks like he’d never been when he was my boyfriend.
And I was not going to bring in our very well-intentioned, but nosy and opinionated Peanut Gallery into the mix, until I was ready.
If J and I got into it tonight, not only would they most likely hear us—since these walls were apparently made of rice paper—they’d want answers for things I was still figuring out.
Still I needed to take the edge off. If J walked out of that bathroom in nothing but a towel, like I knew he fucking would, I was going to jump him.
I went to the door of the bathroom and tapped on it gently. “Hey, are you okay in there?” There was a grunt and then what sounded a lot like panting, and I could see the shadows of his feet as he approached the door.
“Hey, yeah I’m good. Just need like another five minutes.”
I could make myself come in two. Good Lord this was ridiculous, but fuck it.
I dove into my bed and quickly got under the covers, with the sounds of Nesto and Jude’s sexcapade in my ears and the image of J on the other side of that door, gripping his cock hard, pinching his nipples, and making himself come.
The way he spoke when I knocked on the door, there was just a hint of tension there that I recognized all too well. And yep, I was going to do this.
With one hand, I reached over for the lamp on the table between the beds and switched it off, the other I slid into my yoga pants, my breath hitching at the wetness I found there.
My stomach tightened with need as I ran the pads of two fingers over my engorged clit.
I was wet and ready but this didn’t feel like nearly enough when J was just a few feet away.
The thought of him naked and turned on was explosive, and soon I was circling my fingers hard over my clit, my limbs and gut going liquid with the orgasm I could already feel coming.
I was almost there. I cupped my breast and tweaked the nipple, already panting.
My mind flooded with Juanpa doing this instead of me.
Like on the beach in the DR. How he grinned and looked up at me.
His lips glistening from my heat. The way he licked them after, like tasting me was the greatest delicacy in the world.
I arched my back as another shot of pleasure zinged every nerve in my spine and tried hard not to cry out.
The muffled groan that came from the bathroom, just as my orgasm was edging out all rational thought was the last straw and soon I was clutching a hand to my chest as an orgasm washed over me.
Just as I was done getting myself together again, the door of the bathroom cracked open and as suspected, Juan Pablo strolled out in nothing but a towel. I almost laughed at just how accurate my prediction had been.
He was busy running a boar bristle brush on his fade, and the way his bicep tightened made me want to jump him. He’d had his head down as he walked out, but after I turned on the small lamp by the bed, his eyes snapped up and locked with mine.
I was flushed, I knew that. And if anyone could recognize the signs of me in post-masturbatory bliss, it was Juan Pablo.
I didn’t say anything, too distracted by the mouth-watering picture that J freshly showered made.
I dropped my gaze down to the knot right over his groin, then up to that flat stomach and the tattoos that I’d seen him get over the years.
There was the one on his chest that he had gotten with the guys so long ago.
The little map of Puerto Rico with a heart over the spot where Aguadilla Pueblo—his father’s hometown—was.
He had one for his mother, too—her last name in heavy black font under his collarbone.
I knew that if he turned around, there would be one with the date of our first kiss.
It had been a dumbass idea when we were eighteen and still the thought of him having part of our history etched on his skin made my chest flutter.
I wasn’t sure what we were doing tonight or at all, but the ache between my legs was coming back with a vengeance with J flexing for me in every sense of the word.
He did little circles on his scalp with the brush for a few seconds, and ran his tongue over his bottom lips.
When he leaned against the doorway, eyes holding my gaze, I knew we weren’t playing anymore.
No, this was a pre-fucking stare off and who ever broke first would be left holding the bag whenever we blew shit up.
I caved first.
“Are you all done in there?” I sounded winded, because I’d been holding in my breath to keep from jumping him.
His eyes were practically trying to pierce through my skull to figure out what was going on in there. He looked hard at me for a few seconds and then pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped to the side.
“All yours.” He waved his hand with a little flourish while I prayed to all the deities I knew that his towel stayed in place until I found refuge in the bathroom.
I quickly got up from the bed and managed not to trip all over myself as I avoided all eye contact and was in the clear.
But when I brushed past him in the doorway, the scruff of his beard made contact with my cheek as he whispered close to my ear, “I know that smell.”
I gasped and clapped a hand over my mouth as I hurried to shut the door behind me. Once I was in the bathroom, I leaned against the door and took three deep breaths, trying to clear my head. And the first thought I had was, This is stupid.
Why was I pushing J away, when it was obvious we wanted the same things?
I kept setting all these silly boundaries, not because of him, not anymore.
But because of me. I felt like everything else was in a free fall, but I could control things between us.
I could call the shots, set the pace, and he’d let me.
He just wanted to be with me, and he was letting me define what that meant.
And maybe I’d been scared to get all of him, because I knew how it hurt whenever I lost it.
But wasn’t I cheating myself worse with this?
Juan Pablo, the boy I’d always loved, was a man I could build a life with. More confident, more open, more communicative. All the things that I’d always said I wanted from him. All the things I’d told myself a million times would make him the man of my dreams.
And I had to wonder if now I wasn’t enough for him.
With my hang-ups and my indecision, maybe I wasn’t the person he needed.
Maybe J was better off with someone that could dock into the life he’d made.
I certainly couldn’t see myself trampling into that beautiful, pristine apartment with all my baggage.
But maybe those were just excuses. He wanted me, I wanted him. That was enough to start.
I pulled open the door with the intention of letting Juan Pablo know exactly what I was thinking. But as soon as I stepped into the room, I found him standing there like he was still waiting for me. I took one step toward him as the towel around his waist fell to the floor in a fluffy heap.
“Did you forget something?” Everything about him in that moment was fucking devilish and exactly what I wanted.
“We have to keep quiet,” I said, feigning annoyance as I went in for a kiss. By the time I came up for breath, I was half naked and tumbling to the bed with him.
We could talk later.