“Okay, but like… walls,” I say. “Your mom’s threat level was high.”
“So it’s Operation Stealth,” he agrees. “Come on.”
We slip down the hall, quiet, half-suppressed giggles making it worse. In my room, I close the door gently, my heart beating too fast for the level of crime we’re about to commit. Miguel leans against it once it clicks shut, watching me. The lamplight makes his eyes look almost gold.
“What?” I whisper.
“Nothing,” he says. “You just… look happy. I like it.”
“I am happy,” I say, surprised to realize how true it is. “Like… scared. But happy.”
He pushes off the door and closes the space between us in two steps. “Scared and happy is very us,” he murmurs, cupping my jaw. “You sure you’re not too tired?”
“For you?” I say, heat is already unfurling. “Never.”
Smirking, small and soft. “C’mere, then.”
The kiss starts slowly, just mouths and the soft press and slide that says, “I missed you,” even though we never really stopped touching all day. My hands find his hips. His fingers bury themselves in my hair, tilting my head just right.
It doesn’t stay slow.
It never does.
Within a minute, I’m backed toward the bed, knees hitting the mattress, breath coming faster. Miguel’s body slots between my thighs, the heat of him radiating through both our sweats.
“Shh,” he murmurs against my mouth when I let out a soft sound. “Remember the holy water threat.”
I snort into the kiss, then gasp when he rolls his hips, slow and deliberate.
“Okay, that’s not fair,” I whisper.
“Sure it is,” he says.
He pushes me gently until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and drops to his knees between my legs and my heart does a full cartwheel.
“Wait—” I reach for him. “If you go down on me, I’m gonna be loud.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes!” I whisper frantically. “Your mom is right there. Shewillactually get the holy water.”
Miguel pauses, considering, then smirks. “Okay. New plan.” He stands, pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, and tosses it aside. My brain short-circuits for a second while I take in his muscles.
“Pants,” he says. “Both of us. Bed. We keep it even.”
My mouth goes dry. “Mutual destruction?”
“Mutual relief,” he corrects. “Side-by-side. Or…” His eyes flick up and down my body. “We could try that thing you like where we both?—”
A full-body shiver hits me. “Okay,” I breathe. “Yeah… That… Yes.”
We strip fast but quietly, like teenagers doing something forbidden, even though we’re fully grown andtechnicallyallowed. Miguel stretches out on the bed and pulls me in, rearranging us until we’re a tangle of limbs and heat. Then he nudges my hip. “Turn around,hermoso.”
I swallow and do as I’m told, swinging my leg over his chest until we’re in that messy, intimate tangle—both of us on our sides, mouths near each other’s hips, his breath ghosting over the inside of my thigh.
I take him in my hand first, just to hear that low exhale. He’s already half-hard, skin hot under my palm.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “Hi.”
