Page 16 of Seductive Desires

“But it is not about need, is it? It is about desire. What does your heart desire, sweet mariposa?” He leaned forward, mimicking my posture as he watched me. Like a magnet, my eyes were drawn to his. I sucked in a breath, losing all sense of time and space as we stared at each other. I knew better than to go after what I desired, it was about survival for me. But I wanted so much to lean towards him and press my lips to his. I remembered the feeling, soft and sweet and then hard and rough as we sank into it. He was watching me, his eyes flicking down to my lips like he was thinking about the same thing I was. I felt myself leaning closer, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“Here we go, pizza is ready. Careful, it’s hot.” The waitress had good timing. I blinked several times, pulling away from Mateo and his seductive looks. It took me a second to realize I almost lost the challenge and I jerked my gaze back to his. He looked too smug, a big grin spread across his face. He was right, this was a lot harder than I thought.

“So,mariposa. Do you enjoy working with the artist?”

I bobbed my head, trying not to talk with my mouth full. “I do, for now.” When he raised an eyebrow I continued. “It’s more of a layover until I finish college in May.”

He looked impressed. “You are in school? For what?”

“Latin American studies.”

He looked confused. “That is cheating, isn’t it?”

I chuckled. “Not really. After my mom died, I wasn’t really allowed to explore my culture much. My father and his new family felt it was beneath them. I wasn’t even allowed to take Spanish in school. So studying Latin American culture is more like a re-immersion than cheating.”

He reached out like he was going to grab my hand, freezing again when he remembered. He gave me an exasperated look.

“I don’t like this game very much.”

I giggled, shaking my head. I wasn’t going to give in though, it was too much fun.

“I’m sorry about your mother, Mariana. To lose a culture is a great tragedy. To lose your parent, even more so. How old were you?”

I leaned back, sighing. This conversation had gotten really deep really fast. I normally didn’t talk to people about my past a lot, only Carlos had the full story and that’s because he shared his with me.

“I was seven. We lived in a tiny town in Mexico until my mother got sick, then we moved to the US to get her treatment. She passed a year later. I’m pretty sure the only reason she moved us here is because she knew she wouldn’t survive and wanted me near my father so I wouldn’t be sent back to Mexico alone. I was born here but she still worried about it.”

He sucked his teeth, scowling. “And they decided to force you to give up your culture and your connection to her? I don’t think I like your family very much.”

“That makes two of us. I left when I was sixteen and dove headfirst into whatever pieces of my culture I could get a hold of. I still feel like an imposter sometimes, like I’m not latina enough.”

His eyes were sad as they watched me but I didn’t feel sad about it, not any more. I still miss my mom, I always will, but she wanted me to be happy and I do my best to make sure she sees that I am. I tilted my head at him.

“Enough about me and my sad story. Tell me about you. The magazines mostly talk about your latest hookups.” I tried not to let my jealousy show. He’s not mine.

“The magazines lie a lot. What do you want to know?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well now I want to know what they lie about. But let’s start simple, what do you do?”

He leaned back in his seat, looking contemplative. “I dabble in a bit of everything, I suppose.” That was vague. I frowned at him.

“Like what?”

He just shrugged at me, playing with a butterknife, spinning it in his fingers. It was a little odd that he wouldn’t share what he did for a living. Maybe he was embarrassed? If it was family money, there might be a long story there.

“You have a security team, which seems weird. Is what you do dangerous?”

Again he didn’t answer, pursing his lips. An unpleasant tension was starting to sit heavily around us. Finally he spoke.

“You ask a lot of questions, mariposa.”

“And you evade a lot of questions. You’re supposed to get to know one another on a first date.” I was getting annoyed at this point. He asked about me but was giving me nothing in return.

“Okay… what about your family? Do you have any siblings?”

“Two sisters. Both much younger than me and exhausting.” He said it with an affectionate smile though and the tension eased a bit.

“Do they live in the US?”

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