Page 12 of Wait for You

“Yes, though I wouldn’t expectyouto remember.” She knew it was futile, but she tried to pull the door open with him propped against it.

“I remember everythin’ ’bout you, Gen.”

His soft words stopped her struggle. Her gaze snared on his. When he started to speak, she was a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“I remember how you chew your lip when you’re thinkin’, how you put mascara on your left eye before your right, how you hatenopales,” he dipped his lips, continuing in a sensual whisper, “how many shots of tequila it takes to get you drunk,” his mouth hovered so close to hers she could feel his breath, “how your lips taste in the mornin’,” he paused and his eyes turned wicked before he said, “the sound you make when I—”

“Stop!” Head spinning, she stumbled away from him. “Just stop!” How could he be so cruel? To tell her their kiss had meant nothing, then to rub the past in her face . . .

Tears blurred her vision, so she couldn’t clearly see his expression, but she thought a similar resounding pain echoed in his voice when he said, “Goodnight, Gen.”

The door closed with a click, and she sank into the bed. The tears broke free, leaking down her face. Curling up, she hugged her stomach and wished they weren’t so adept at hurting each other.

???

Mateo

Mat’s chest ached. He’d think he was having some sort of attack if he didn’t know better, but he had no doubt what caused the discomfort. And she was barely five-three, maybe a hundred and ten pounds. He’d taken a punch before, but this pain was relentless. It throbbed as if someone had landed a blow in the same spot over and over. At this rate, he wasn’t sure his heart could take another beating.

He still loved Imogen.

If he didn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to hurt him so much. Maybe he shouldn’t have said those things about their past, but her cutting him off had sliced into him with all theprecision of a hatchet. The jagged wounds it left behind would likely never heal. Not fully.

It seemed like every time he tried to have a conversation with her, they ended up in an argument. Which was damned difficult when they needed to keep up the charade of being in a relationship to protect her from Julio.

Damn it all to hell.

Bringing Imogen to the Carnival party—continuing the fake relationship with her—would be the best way to keep her reason for being in the lieutenant’s household under the radar.

Mat groaned as he laid back on his bed, kneading his palms into his eyes. He couldn’t help remembering the last party they’d been to together.

And how it ended.

How walking away, knowing it was the best thing for Imogen in the long run—what she’d wanted but hadn’t been able to say—had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

As if to confirm his thought, the ache in his chest intensified, bringing him back to that party five years ago.

Mat tugged at his tie, desperate to lose the damned thing and take his first full breath in what felt like days but had only been a few hours. The charity party was winding down, and he was more than ready to grab Imogen and head home. Well, back to his place since her parent’s opulent mansion was still technicallyherhome.

But maybe not for much longer.

He’d gone ring shopping last week and was waiting for the right moment to pop the question. Nerves made his stomach rumble, and he glanced around for Gen. She’d gotten pulled away by her mother close to a half hour ago. Not finding her among the last few people on the dance floor, Mat rose from his seat at their table.

Heading across the ballroom, he finally managed to pull the tie all the way off.

Good riddance.

He tucked the restraining device in his pocket as he moved into the hall. He was ninety-eight percent sure Imogen would say yes, but that remaining two percent made him hesitate. No matter how much she liked to buck against her family’s rules, she was a traditionalist. If he wanted her to say yes, he had to do it right and talk to her father first.

Just the thought of having a conversation with Señor Sanchez made him break out in a sweat. He swiped at his brow as his feet led him toward the family wing. Mat knew he wasn’t what her parents would’ve picked for her, but he hoped they’d respect Imogen’s decision once they saw how much he loved her.

At least they had her brother’s blessing. Emiliano was barely more than a kid in Mat’s eyes, but he and Imogen were very close. Gen cared about Emil’s opinion, and Mat enjoyed hanging out with the guy. He could be a hothead, but she had a way of calming her brother down. Mat didn’t mind Emil’s occasional outburst. In a family that rarely showed what they really felt, he found Emiliano refreshing. Imogen probably did, too. Mat knew she enjoyed being herself with him, but whenever she was within these walls, it was as if she wore a mask.

Mat frowned. He wanted to whisk her away like a knight rescuing the princess from the tower. With him, she’d never have to be anyone but who she wanted to be.

As he neared her father’s study, the sound of raised voices made his steps falter. Surprise rolled through him; he’d never heard the Sanchez family be anything but calm and polite.

“That is preposterous, Imogen!” Señora Sanchez’s voice rang out, shrill with anger.

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