38. Emerson
EMERSON
Sometime between the last song and the three encores Cross My Heart played for their final show, Crew fell asleep in my arms. The room was electric—the kind of energy that only comes with the end of something unforgettable—and I felt like I was floating as I carefully passed him to Mateo when he finally came offstage.
He didn’t say a word before pressing a kiss to my lips, like it was something he’s always done.
We both knew there were words to say, a conversation to finish in private, but we had a dozen people waiting for us—waiting for Mateo—so we met up with everyone in Cross My Heart’s greenroom, where the celebration commenced.
Popping bottles of champagne, the four guys blowing out the candles on a cake with the Cross My Heart logo drawn in frosting, surrounded by everyone they loved.
It was bittersweet—years of music, of memories, of milestones coming to a close—but surrounded by the people who had been there for Mateo and the band through it all.
We made our rounds through the crowd of friends and family who had come to celebrate this final show. I met Theo’s family and Silas’ wife before pressing a kiss to a sleeping Crew’s forehead as Mateo handed him off to Talia and Daniel as they headed out.
There was something about seeing him surrounded by the people who knew him best, watching him laugh and reminisce about a lifetime of songs, that made me feel like I was stepping into a part of his world I’d only ever glimpsed from the outside.
Feeling Mateo’s arm wrapped around my waist as we chatted with Mia and Eddie before they left to put their daughters to bed brought a warmth I didn’t know I had gone so long without.
Mateo made quick reintroductions to friends I’d met in passing once or twice before, then I led him over to Rumi, Ava, Jack, and Anderson.
I had to pretend not to notice the knowing looks Rumi and Ava exchanged as they watched us—the way Mateo’s thumb traced slow circles over the exposed skin above my jeans, the soft kisses he pressed to the back of my shoulder whenever he thought no one was paying attention, the heat in his gaze every time our eyes met.
Every touch, every glance, every stolen moment felt like another spark feeding a growing flame, and I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend I wasn’t burning.
I needed to get Mateo alone. There was a conversation waiting for us—one I’d been anticipating all night, along with everything it would lead to.
And I was dangerously close to the edge of my patience.
Because Mateo Lane wants to be mine.
I didn’t realize how much I wanted to hear him say the words.
Or how much I wanted to be his.
And now we’re finally alone.
There are words to be exchanged—we need to talk about what this all means. Us. Together. What the fuck we’re doing.
But all of that is pushed to the back of my mind as Mateo presses his body against mine, trapping me against his hard chest and the front door of his house.
Mateo’s mouth curves against mine. “I don’t want to give the neighbors a show,” he whispers against my lips.
“I do,” I tease, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip, the growl escaping his throat going right to my core as I press my hips forward, feeling him hard against me.
His fingers dig into my hips, his hold strong enough to keep me in place when I try to do it again.
He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his keys.
He unlocks the door, turning the knob and urging me inside.
Reluctantly, I do, and I’m immediately greeted by dark wood floors, exposed brick walls, and oversized windows that fill the space with moonlight.
As the door shuts behind us, automatic lights come on, and walls covered in vintage guitars and concert posters come into view.
There are bookshelves packed with records, books, and knickknacks lining the open living room, along with a leather couch that would take up my entire apartment.
The living room flows into a designer kitchen with marble counters and warm lighting, the smell of lemon strong as if the house was just cleaned from top to bottom.
“And I thought the tour bus was nice,” I say on a sigh, my eyes taking in the space.
Mateo shrugs his shoulders, shy all of a sudden.
“It’s not that big,” he says.
I turn slowly to look at him. “Mateo.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, did you actually just say this isn’t that big?”
His mouth quirks like he knows he’s losing this argument. “I mean, comparatively.”
“Right, like compared to a smaller mansion,” I deadpan.
He rubs the back of his neck, already flustered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean, rockstar?” I step closer, liking the way I make him squirm.
“It doesn’t bother you,” he pauses, waiting for my answer even though he didn’t ask a question. “Because if anything, it just means if there’s something you want, it’s yours.”
I look at him. “I would hope so,” I deadpan. “We’re literally standing in a house with a living room bigger than my apartment.”
His mouth opens, then closes.
“And before you get all red,” I add, glancing around, “I liked you before I knew how rich you were.”
A small laugh slips out of him, but he still looks unsure.
I smile. “Relax. I’m not going to start handing you a shopping list.”
“You could.”
A laugh bubbles in my throat. “Careful what you wish for, rockstar. I’m not exactly the type to turn down a good thing when it’s offered.”
His smile turns softer. “Yeah?”
I shrug. “I have flaws, but saying no when the rich, world-renowned Mateo Lane wants to spend his money on me isn’t one of them.
He shakes his head, closing the distance between us, still smiling. “Good to know.”
“Don’t sound so relieved. I’m about to ask for a private jet.”
“Okay.” He takes another step closer.
“And a trip to Greece.”
“Done.” Another step.
“And other super expensive things.” Ones I can’t seem to think of right now.
His lips are just inches from mine, his hands settling on my waist. “Whatever you want, baby,” he says, pulling me a little closer.
I swallow. “Good. Because I’m not wasting this newfound access to ridiculous amounts of money.”
His laugh is quiet, warm, and close enough that I feel it more than I hear it.
“There’s no winning with you, is there?” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
“And yet,” I reply anyway, letting my hands slide up his chest, “you seem pretty committed to keeping me around.”
“Absolutely,” he says without hesitation.
The teasing fades for just a second, replaced by something warmer. Hotter. And a shiver of anticipation passes through me.
“So,” I whisper, “just to be clear…”
His eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”
“If I decide I want something, I can just tell you?”
A smile tugs at his mouth. “Yes.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
I narrow my eyes. “That feels like a dangerous amount of confidence from someone who just admitted I always win.”
He grins. “Maybe I like losing. As long as it’s to you.”
And then he kisses me before I can come up with a response, which is probably the smartest thing he’s done all night.
His tongue dances with mine as his hands roam my body, from my waist to my ass, holding me against him so tightly, I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
Then he’s lifting me, and my legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries me to the couch, setting me down carefully before he breaks our kiss.
His eyes bore into mine, darkened with lust as he begins to undress me. He starts with my coat, slowly pushing it off my shoulders. Part of me wants to tell him to hurry the fuck up. But another part of me basks in his attention, the way he’s so gentle, so careful with me.
He drops my coat to the floor just before he slowly shifts his focus to my top. I’m wearing a sheer mockneck over a lacey bralette, and he takes his time gathering the fabric in his hands and bringing it over my head, leaving me in my skirt and bralette.
I toe off my boots as he kneels in front of me, his thumb lining the top of my leather skirt before he helps me shimmy out of it.
There’s something about being in nothing but my bra and underwear while Mateo is still fully dressed. It’s intimate. Erotic. And it sends a shiver down my spine.
He leans closer, his lips pressing against my neck.
“You’re a dream, baby,” he murmurs along my skin as he kisses his way down my chest between my breasts.
Pressure builds deep in my core as he slowly reaches for the straps of my bralette, and that’s when I lose any and all patience, taking matters into my own hands.
I reach for the bottom of my bra, lifting it off over my head as I stand. Then I bring my underwear down my legs, stepping out of them.
I’m completely naked, fully exposed in front of him, and he’s kneeling at my feet.
He takes me all in, and I can see the moment his patience snaps in half, losing any and all control he had a moment ago.
“Lay down.” The command in his voice goes directly to my core.
There’s no stumbling around his words or blush creeping up his neck. Instead, there’s only confidence and self-assurance in the way he waits for me to do exactly what he says.
As I lay down, Mateo lifts my legs over his shoulders, his bruising grip on my thighs opening me up for him. “I’ve been dying to taste you,” he whispers against my inner thigh.
And then his tongue is parting me, causing my back to arch and a moan to escape my lips at the contact. He circles my clit with the perfect amount of pressure, licking, sucking, and nipping at the skin until I’m a writhing mess.
My hand finds his hair, almost involuntarily, and I pull at the strands.
“Fuck,” he says against my pussy before he dives back in, his tongue relentless against my clit.
His forearm comes down over my hips, holding me steady as he devours me, pinning me to the couch as he growls against the sensitive skin.
I hold him against me, lifting my hips to meet his tongue. “That’s it, baby,” he breathes, “show me how much you need my mouth on your pussy.”
“Mateo,” I pant, “please, don’t stop.”
I’m a complete and utter mess in his hands as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. I feel the pressure building, and then he’s pushing two fingers inside me, knowing exactly what I’m asking for when I can’t form the words.
My thighs start to tremble as I lean my head back, closing my eyes.
And then he stops. His fingers retreat, his movements ceasing, and I’m too turned on to be embarrassed by the whine that escapes my lips. “No,” I manage to say, looking down to find Mateo watching me.
“Eyes on me,” he orders. “I want you to watch as I make you come all over my tongue.”
My lips part, but no words come out. All I can manage is a nod because I have no choice but to follow his command.
He picks up exactly where he left off, and it takes everything in me to keep my eyes open.
Watching Mateo between my thighs is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I scream his name as my orgasm rips through me. But he doesn’t let up, drinking every last drop as he slides his fingers in and out of me, applying the perfect amount of pressure to have the waves of pleasure rolling through me over and over again.
And then Mateo is groaning against my clit, my name on his lips as his hips roll into the couch.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe as we both come down.
“Holy fuck,” he repeats, his breathing heavy.
“Did you come?” I ask.
“I couldn’t help it, baby,” he says, crawling up my body, pressing kisses until he finds my lips, and my clit thrums at the taste of me on his lips. “You taste so good.”
My stomach flutters at the admission—how I made him come without even touching him. The thought lights a fire inside me, and I truly don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of this man.
“We should probably get you cleaned up,” I whisper against his lips.
We barely make it in the shower before my lips are around his cock, sliding my tongue over the smooth, sensitive skin, feeling him get hard again in my mouth.
He leans his head back in the stream of water before he looks back down at me like he can’t actually believe I’m here on my knees for him.
I work him up and down, pulling almost all the way off, teasing the slit of his cock before playing with the silver ring at the top of his shaft. His hands tangle in my hair, pushing lightly for me to take him all again.
And I do, slowly at first, working him down my throat, keeping my tongue flat against the underside of his shaft. He growls as his hand in my hair tightens, and he begins rocking his hips.
My clit pulses, aching for pressure, and I moan the moment my fingers make contact, drawing quick circles as Mateo fucks my mouth.
And then he’s lifting me up, and my legs are wrapping around his waist. He slides into me in one thrust, and I don’t even notice the cold shower tile against my back. Not when he rocks into me, his piercing hitting that sensitive spot inside of me over and over again.
“You feel so fucking good,” I pant against his neck just before my teeth sink into his neck.
And then we’re falling apart in each other's arms, my name on his lips, my fingernails dug deep into his skin…
The words I love you on the tip of my tongue.