Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
MATEO
I lie in bed, my thoughts circling back to the conversation Gino and I had while Vanessa packed her things. She’s in my place right now, watching something on her laptop just across the hall.
The thought of her in this bed with me settles heavy in my chest.
“Dude, we might need you to marry Vanessa sooner than we planned,” Gino says.
“Why?” I ask immediately. “Did something happen?”
“Yeah. Some Russian asshole found out about her and now he wants her. I’ve ignored him so far, but then I got a call from the Irish. And then from the Gallos.” He lets out a harsh breath. “How the fuck did they find out about her so fast?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew but didn’t believe it until they saw her. Once I started piecing it together, I tried calling both of you. No one answered.”
He exhales sharply. “She may not have been my sister for long, but she is my sister. We have to protect her. You need to get close to her, get her to trust you, like we talked about. But it’s going to have to happen faster.”
“When are you planning to tell her about the marriage contract?” I ask.
“I probably won’t,” he admits. “I don’t want her thinking that’s the only reason you’re around her.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “I think my dad was right. You two look good together.”
“Just so you know, she’s very against anything with her brother’s best friend.”
“How do you know? Did you ask?” Gino asks.
“Kind of.”
“Jesus.” He rolls his eyes. “Getting rejected stings, huh?”
“Fuck off. But I’m telling you now, hiding the contract from her isn’t going to go over well. She’ll find out eventually.”
“Listen,” he says, firm. “She doesn’t need to know yet. If we need to tell her, we will. But I’m not planning on forcing her into anything.”
“Alright,” I reply. “I’m just warning you now—the blowback could be astronomical.”
“Look at you, using big words,” he says, punching my arm.
I groan, replaying the conversation in my head. Not telling her is a horrible idea. Fuck. And then there’s this goddamn hard-on I need to get rid of, and there’s only one way I can.
I get out of bed and head straight for the room Vanessa’s staying in. For a second, I consider knocking, but I can hear the faint sound of whatever she is watching. I open the door.
She doesn’t look up—too focused on her phone.
I’m going to need to teach her to be more aware of her surroundings.
I walk over and stop right in front of her. She finally looks up at me, eyes wide. I take the phone from her hands, press the lock button, and set it on the end table. Then I close her laptop, cutting off the noise of the show, and place it beneath the phone.
“Mateo,” she says softly, breathlessly. “What are you—”
I press a finger to her lips, silencing her.
“You really need to be better about knowing your surroundings, sweetheart,” I whisper.
“I didn’t think I needed to be when you’re right next door,” she replies quietly.
“I thought your uncle trained you.”
“He did,” she says. “Some fighting techniques. Some shooting. But not enough for me to be an expert.”
I let out a low laugh. “Guess I’ll need to train you, then.”
I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips.
“Mateo, this isn’t a good idea,” she says softly.
“What isn’t?”
“This sleeping together thing. We’ll do it one time. You’ll regret it, you’ll tell all your friends how bad it was, and Gino will kill both of us.”
What? Why would she think that I would regret it?
“Why? Do you think it would be bad?”
“No, it’s just—” She trails off.
“Just what?”
“Nothing.”
That pisses me off. I walk around the bed and lie down beside her, leaning back against the headboard. I hook my fingers under her chin and pull her closer until she’s inches from my face. Her eyes are so wide they look like they might pop right out of their sockets.
“Tell me.”
She says nothing.
“Tell me.” I pull her even closer. I’m not aggressive by nature, but this girl is pushing me to the edge with all this hiding.
“In high school,” she says quietly, staring at the wall, “people called me a slut because I kissed someone behind the bleachers.” She swallows and keeps going. “Then in college, a football player said I slept with him. He told everyone it was the worst sex of his life.”
My jaw tightens as she shakes her head.
“I didn’t even sleep with him,” she says, voice sharper now. “I just made out with him at a party. But the entire athletic department believed him.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Then more guys jumped on the train, saying that I slept with them too.”
She pauses, her hands twisting together. I can see the hurt written all over her face.
“It got so bad I couldn’t even focus. There were so many jokes going around that, after I got injured, I quit the cross-country team.”
I can hear the defeat in her voice and it’s gutting me.
“I know I should’ve stood up for myself, but once some of the staff started making comments, I needed to quit for my own sanity.”
What the fuck.
“No one stood up for you?” I ask, my voice rough. I hate how much I need the answer to be yes.
“Some girls tried,” she says softly, finally looking at me. “But I told them to save it. I didn’t want them to get taunted and ridiculed like I did.”
I exhale slowly, forcing my tone to stay calm. “Vanessa, did you tell Kevin or Lucy?”
“No. They pressed me on why I quit the team. I just kept telling them it was the injury until they finally gave up,” she says softly, looking back down.
“Vanessa,” I say quietly.
She looks up at me.
“Kindly, shut up so I can kiss you.”
Her brows knit together in confusion, her lips parting like she’s about to argue. She doesn’t get the chance. I cup her face and press my mouth to hers, kissing her hard, deliberately, giving her no space to think. Just feel. I want that memory gone for even a second.
Her lips are soft and warm, just like they were a few hours ago. She melts into it, and I kiss her until I feel the tension leave her body.
I pull back just enough to speak. “I’m going to make you forget all of the bullshit they did and said to you,” I tell her quietly. “And I don’t plan on this being a one-time thing.”
She stares at me, stunned, like no one has ever said something like that to her before.
I rub her jaw with my thumb and lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, memorizing every curve and soft edge of her lips. I trail my mouth down her neck, then lower, pressing kisses along her collarbone and the upper part of her chest.
I look up at her. “Can I take off your sweater?”
She bites her lip and nods. She clearly likes it when I ask. I like control, but I also like giving respect to someone who deserves it.
I hook my fingers into the hem of her light purple sweater and pull it up and over her head, tossing it aside. She’s wearing a pink lace bra, the color brighter against the warm glow of her skin. Shit. The lace is barely enough to hold her in, teasing more than holding.
A soft groan slips from my throat.
She giggles.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, trying to stay in control.
She blushes. “No—nothing.”
I slide my hand over her right breast, my palm fitting her perfectly, and feel her nipple tighten beneath the lace. I drop my mouth back to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, kissing her slowly, deliberately.
“Can I take off your bra?” My lips hover at her neck as I speak.
“Yes,” she breathes through a soft moan.
Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I am going to be able to control this. I move my hand behind her back and carefully unclasp her bra, taking my time. I’ve never gone this slow. Never made love like this before. Every other woman, I don’t linger. I take what I need and move on.
Her bra loosens, her breasts settling against her chest as she shifts her arms and lets it slip free, landing on the bed.
I pick it up and toss it to the floor near her sweater.
My right hand closes around her left breast, kneading it slowly.
She moans, her thighs pressing together.
With my left hand, I find her right nipple and roll it between my thumb and forefinger.
I take my time, kissing her neck, teasing her, letting my hands do the talking.
Her left hand slides to my sweatpants and traces my hard cock through the fabric.
She sucks in a sharp breath the second she feels how hard I am, like she isn’t quite prepared for it.
I’m straining against my pants so much it feels like the seams might give.
She keeps moving her hand, slow but sure, until a groan slips out of me.
“Baby, you’re going to need to slow down if you want to do anything else,” I warn her.
She stills her hand for a second, then lets her fingers trace slowly up to my waistband.
“Can I pull your pants down?” she quietly asks.
“Please do,” I breathe against her lips, holding her gaze.
Without breaking eye contact, she grips my waistband and pushes my pants and boxers down enough for my cock to spring free.
I groan at the brief release as she wraps her hand around me and starts moving, slow and steady, finding a rhythm that hits perfectly.
Her skin is warm and soft, and it feels unreal having her touch me like this.
“Am I doing okay?” she asks, her voice innocent, but there’s something else there too. Like she wants to hear it from me.
I answer with a low groan.
“Damn it, baby, you’re going to make me come faster than I ever have before.”
She blushes and looks slightly down. “What if that’s what I want?” she asks, still stroking my cock, finding the perfect pace without even trying.
“Don’t worry,” I say with a smirk, hovering over her. “You’ll be taken care of shortly.”
I close my eyes as she keeps moving her hand, steady and relentless. The pressure builds fast, sharp, and overwhelming.
“I’m going to come. Don’t stop!”
She doesn’t. She goes faster, and it hits me hard, my release spilling over her hands and across my stomach. I drag in a breath, still shaking.