Chapter 20
TWENTY
VANESSA
Sitting in the car, I debate just pulling Mateo in and kissing him, but I don’t. I need to make him work for it. I can’t look easy or willing to do everything he wants. I sit there in silence, replaying almost every decision I’ve made since all of this started. Damn, I want him. I want him bad.
His voice pulls me out of my thoughts, but I miss what he says. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you were hungry,” he says with a quiet laugh.
“Uh, yeah. I guess I could eat.”
“Let’s go get something then,” he says, opening his door and stepping out.
I start to open mine, but before I can, Mateo catches it and pulls it the rest of the way open for me.
“I guess chivalry isn’t dead,” I mutter.
He lets out a short laugh.
“I should probably change before we eat.”
“Nah, you look great.”
“Thanks, I guess. But I probably smell.”
“You don’t. Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me down the garage stairs and out onto the city street.
We walk about a block before spotting a diner. Inside, we slide into a booth. A young blonde waitress comes over, completely ignoring me as she looks straight at Mateo.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asks in an overly sweet, fake-high voice.
“Coffee,” Mateo says.
“Sure thing.” She turns like she’s about to walk away.
“Are you going to ask my wife what she wants?” he adds without missing a beat.
Wife. He just said that.
The waitress glances at me, her smile slipping. “What can I get you?”
“Coffee is fine,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” she mutters before walking off.
“She’s going to be an ass to us the whole time, isn’t she?” I ask, looking at Mateo.
“Probably, but she’ll get over it. You can’t ignore my wife and get away with it.”
“You’ve called me your wife twice in less than a minute,” I tease. “Interesting.”
“How is it interesting? You are my wife.”
“I know. I just didn’t think you’d be okay with all of it.”
“Okay with what?”
“Being married to me. Being basically told you had to.”
“I don’t see a problem with it,” he says. “I get why you’re still upset about me not telling you. And not to make myself sound worse, but I was told not to.”
“I know,” I say softly. “Like I said, I’m not mad anymore, but I’m not letting you off easy.” I wink.
He smiles. “Can this breakfast be the first step in my apology campaign?”
“Campaign?” I tease. “Are you a politician now?”
“No, but maybe one day.”
“Oh, lovely. I married a guy who wants to be the next mayor?”
“God, no. I don’t want that shit,” he says with a laugh.
A different waitress drops off our coffees and takes our order, which tells me everything I need to know about the first one.
“Then what do you want?” I ask, leaning in.
“I want the white-picket-fence life,” he says quietly.
“What does that even mean?”
“I want the life I was never supposed to have. The suburbs, kids, something normal.”
“Why can’t you have those things?”
“Not literally,” he says. “But growing up, I was always told I had to be by Gino’s side. Anything I wanted, like a family, got pushed aside. At least until recently.” He looks straight at me, like he’s seeing too much.
“So you wanted a life and didn’t think you’d ever get it,” I say. “Until what?”
“Until you.”
“Me?”
“Vanessa, just because this didn’t start out great doesn’t mean it isn’t what I want.”
Well, shit.
Before I can even respond, he adds, “Julian and Victoria.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what I think of when I imagine kids.”
I laugh softly. “Wow. You really have it all planned out, don’t you?”
“Not all of it,” he says, “but some of the important things.”
“How did those names even pop into your head?”
“To be honest, I have no idea. They were just the first ones I thought of. I’m not saying I’m dead set on them.”
“You sounded pretty dead set a minute ago,” I tease. He smirks back at me, and I guess that settles it.
The rest of breakfast passes easily. We talk about growing up in completely different worlds and somehow end up discovering we both love basketball, which feels like a small miracle. When we’re done, Mateo takes my hand and walks me back down the street to the car.
He starts the engine but doesn’t pull out. My hands fidget in my lap, and I glance over at him, confused. He’s already looking at me, his gaze steady and intense.
“Wha—”
Before I can finish, he cups my face and kisses me. It’s nothing like the rough, hungry kisses we’ve shared before. This one is soft, slow, and so sweet it makes my chest ache. He pulls back reluctantly, like he doesn’t want it to end. When I open my eyes, he’s wearing a faint smirk.
“I know you said I had to work for it,” he murmurs, never breaking eye contact, “but I couldn’t help myself.”
“I guess I can let it slide,” I say with a smile.
“I want to finish this conversation at home,” he says with a smirk. I glance down and see the way his erection strains against his pants.
“Okay.”
He shifts back into his seat and pulls out of the parking space. As we drive, his right hand settles on my thigh. I look down, suddenly aware that I’m still in my scrubs and how badly I need a shower.
By the time we get back to the apartment, Mateo hasn’t stopped touching me. His hand drifts from my thigh to my lower back as we walk to the elevator. The doors slide shut, and he turns, boxing me in against the back wall.
“I don’t think I told you how gorgeous you look,” he says, his low voice holding my eyes.
“Uh, I probably don’t smell great,” I reply. “I haven’t showered, and I’m still in my scrubs.”
“No, you don’t smell,” he says. “And scrubs are a turn-on.”
“A turn-on? Really?”
“Yeah. I think it’s hot that my wife is a professional and doesn’t want me to be the only one who works.”
“You’re such a feminist,” I tease.
“Damn right I am.”
The elevator opens on his floor, and he takes my hand like he needs to make sure I’m still there. After only a few weeks with him, I already feel like I never want to let him go. I’ve always been independent, but maybe relying on someone wouldn’t be so hard.
We step into the apartment, and I start toward my room, but his hand closes around my bicep, turning me back to him. He leans down, his mouth brushing my ear as he whispers, “You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“Because every time I compliment you, you shut yourself down,” he says. “Do you think I’m lying when I tell you you’re beautiful, or when I do something nice for you? Can’t you see I’m trying to impress you?”
“Impress me? I don’t think you need to do that.”
He smirks and slides his hands to my neck before pressing his lips to mine. He’s been wanting this for a while, and I feel the hard length of him against me. I melt into the kiss, a soft moan slipping from me at the intensity. I don’t want it to end.
Leaning into him more, he moves his hands down to my waist and grips my hips. I jump up, wrapping my legs around him, and he starts walking with me clinging to him. I break the kiss only to trail my mouth along his jaw and down his neck.
He carries me into his bedroom and lowers me down onto the bed.
I watch as he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it over a chair, then rolls up his sleeves, his muscles flexing in a way that makes my stomach tighten.
He comes back to me, and I haven’t moved since he set me down.
I just stare, seeing the fire in his eyes, the control he’s barely holding onto.
He leans in close, locking his gaze with mine. “Vanessa, there’s so much I want to do to you right now,” he says in a low voice.
“Then do it,” I whisper, surprised by how much desire I’m giving back.
A grin curves his mouth, and he dips down to kiss me, soft and slow.
He shifts his kisses to my jaw and down my neck.
Tugging at the hem of my top, he pulls it over my head and lets it fall somewhere behind us.
His mouth keeps moving, brushing over my collarbone and down to my chest. One hand slides to my back, unhooking my bra before he pulls it off and tosses it aside.
The heat in his eyes pulls me under, like I’m caught in something I can’t escape.
He takes one of my nipples between his teeth, tugging just enough to make me moan.
The pleasure hits so hard that the last week of playing hard to get feels pointless now.
Maybe it was worth it, because this feels too good to resist. His mouth keeps drifting lower, soft kisses and wandering hands making my skin burn everywhere he touches.
When he reaches my stomach, he grips my pants and yanks them down with enough force that my body shifts on the bed.
“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” Mateo grits out.
He moves between my thighs, his mouth finding my soaking pussy, devouring me like it’s his last meal. I cry out, the tension in my core building so fast it’s almost unbearable.
“Let go, baby,” he murmurs against me.
Before I can even process the word baby, everything snaps. “Mateo, fuck, I’m going to come.”
“I’d expect nothing less. Come for me, baby.”
His words alone could do it, but his tongue doesn’t let up, and I come hard, too fast, my body going loose beneath him. I’m left dazed, stunned by how deeply he’s already gotten under my skin.
We spend the next few hours moving between the shower and the bed, learning each other in slow, heated ways, and the idea of being with him for the rest of my life keeps feeling better and better.