Page 64 of Deep In Love
He’s so calm, offering his truth like it’s nothing more than the weather report, but my hands tremble.
The walls I’ve painstakingly built are crumbling, taking me with them, but I don’t want to fall, so I pull the carnelian stone from the corner of the desk and grip it in my palm.
With a shaky voice, I say, “I want that, too.”
A brilliant smile breaks across Mateo’s face, and I offer him one of my own.
“Come here, bruja,”he says, and my stomach flips with anticipation when he pats the bed beside him. It dips beneath my weight, and as soon as I land, his hands are on me, dragging me closer.
“I know you’re nervous,” he says, working his palm up and down my thigh, “but I’m nervous, too.”
“You are?”
I don’t know why I’m surprised—why his admission is so shocking. Maybe it’s because he’s always held this unwavering confidence in himself. His words are sure and decisive when our advisors ask questions. When he walks into a room, he holds his head high, his shoulders back.
It’s hard to picture Mateo as anything other than confident—the opposite of who I am.
His laugh is soft, little more than a huff of air.
“Yes, bruja, I’m nervous.” His touch stills. “I am going to be brutally honest for the next thirty seconds, even though it scares me.” He pauses, and I gulp, unready for whatever truth he’s going to offer me. “I have flirted with you every day for the past two years, hoping you would see me, and now that you do, I’m afraid it’s going to end. I’m terrified that we’re going to step off this boat, and you’re going to brush me off like this all means nothing. Because for me, this means something—youmean something to me—butI don’t want my heart crushed if you’re not all in. Because I am. I’m all in, Charlie.”
He drags his fingers through his hair, a nervous tic I’ve learned he has, and I spot Darwin sitting in the corner, watching us explore the unknown territory in front of us. I’ve spent the day worried about the new terrain, afraid of what I may uncover, but maybe I’m going about it the wrong way.
It’s unfamiliar, but instead of standing at the edge of the unexplored jungle, fearful of the creatures lurking behind the foliage, I could embrace the uncertainty and the potential to discover something incredible and life changing.
Darwin’s head bobbles as if to say,You’re on the right path, so I take the first step into the uncharted territory and offer him a truth of my own.
“I want to try with you.”
I’ve always run from emotional connection, stuck to my rules to keep me safe and detached, but I don’t know how to separate logic from what I feel for Mateo.
I won’t lie; I’m scared shitless I’ll fuck it up, or he’ll realize I’m more effort than it’s worth, but I’m realizing he’s worth the risk. Mateo is kind in ways I’ll never be, understanding and patient, and vulnerable with his heart.
“I’ve never really tried with anyone,” I admit, timid and unsure, but I reach out a hand and lace our fingers together. It’s better to be frightened, I think, than not try with him at all. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Nerves eat at my insides, but he squeezes my hand, and my throat dries from the tenderness. Mateo deserves far more credit than I’ve ever given him, because he hears every word I can’t formulate, and he understands.
“We’ll learn together,” he says, shifting to face me. His free hand reaches out, and the pad of his index finger trails down my scar to cup my jaw. “Deal?”
“Deal,” I respond, and my lashes flutter shut as he offers a gentle, probing kiss.
His hand slips to cradle the back of my head, his fingers tangling in the strands of my hair as the kiss deepens into something charged with raw energy. The air crackles as he grabs my hips and pulls me onto his lap, swiping his tongue against the seam of my lips.
I want to bottle the feeling banging around in my chest—capture it so I can experience it forever. It’s the nerves of preparing to speak in front of a crowd. The anticipatory fall when you reach the peak of a roller coaster. The thrill of discovering something new.
He grips my waist, digging into my flesh to pull me into his chest. Mateo leans away, far enough to speak, but still so close I can identify the varying shades of green in his eyes. Moss. Seaweed. Evergreen.
Mateo’s hand slips below my top, grazing against my bare skin, and I jerk from the contact—not from discomfort, but in anticipation. I’m distracted by the tiny freckles scattered along the bridge of his nose, but his hand pauses on my stomach.
“Do you want to stop?”
His lips are swollen, hair in disarray, and he’s never been as attractive as he is right now. I lean in until our foreheads touch. He sucks in a breath, and I press a feather-soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, the stubble of his beard scraping against my flesh.
“No.”
His thumb swipes across my torso and over the scar from my spleen removal. One, two, three times, he passes over the raised skin, and I hold steadfast, mustering up every inch of courage I possess.
Pounding fills my ears as my heart races.
