He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, smoothing down her ruined blouse with hands that stayed steady even if his eyes didn't. He pressed a kiss to her temple, softer this time, then helped her down from the counter.
Her hands moved on instinct, reaching for his belt.
"You didn't—" Her fingers fumbled with the buckle. "Let me—"
Mateo caught her hands gently, his fingers wrapping around her wrists and stilling them. His breath came uneven. She felt the tremor in his fingers before he loosened his hold, thumbs pressing against her pulse points like he was using her heartbeat to steady his own.
"Not tonight, cara."
April looked up at him, dazed and disheveled and probably still glowing from what he'd just done to her. "But—"
"Tonight was for you." He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his eyes warm. "Let me have that."
"That's not—" She tried to find words through the pleasant fog still filling her head. "That's not fair to you."
"Trust me,cara, watching you come apart was more than enough. My hands are full, cara”
He pressed another kiss to her temple, longer this time, his hand cupping the back of her head with a gentleness that made her chest go tight.
He drew back just enough to look at her, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You have a gala to attend," he murmured.
April blinked at him, then looked down at herself: half-dressed, thoroughly pleased, still unsteady on her feet.
“I probably look like I’ve been tossed in a salad spinner.”
"There's a private washroom through that door. Take your time."
April grabbed her pants and started across the kitchen on legs that felt like overcooked pasta.
Halfway there, she glanced down at the trousers clutched in her hand.
I am walking pantsless through a restaurant kitchen.
She glanced around at the gleaming stainless steel, the immaculate prep stations, the spaces where actual paying customers' food got made.
People EAT the food from this kitchen. This kitchen where I just... on the counter...
She walked faster.
There are health codes. Definitely health codes about this.
The washroom was mercifully private, a single room with soft lighting and a large mirror.
April caught sight of herself and froze.
Her eyes were blown out, pupils huge and dark. Her hair looked like she'd lost a fight with a ceiling fan that had personal grievances. Her lips were swollen, her face flushed, and the champagne blouse was wrinkled beyond any hope of salvation.
She tried to smooth her hair down. Managed to tuck a few strands back into place, but it was a losing battle.
She braced her hands on the sink, meeting her own eyes in the mirror.
"Okay, you little trollop. You've been with two guys today and kissed four. That's insane. That's more than—that equals college."
The silence in the bathroom felt loud, like her own judgment staring back at her from the mirror.
"But Mateo said take what you want. And I wanted this."
She let out a deep breath.
