“No,” I say.
He exhales. His shoulders relax.
“Okay.”
I close the distance between us.
I don’t kiss him. Not yet. I put my hands on his chest and I feel his heart under my hand, and I look up at him. “We have to be quiet.”
“I know.”
“Calloway is next door. If anyone hears-”
“They won’t.”
His hands find my waist. Light at first, asking, and when I don’t pull away they settle there, thumbs tracing the fabric of my shirt. I feel the heat of him through the thin cotton.
“Elida.” My name again, softer this time, and I kiss him before he can say anything else.
My back is against the door and his body presses me into it. His mouth opens mine and I pull at his shirt.
He breaks the kiss long enough to yank it over his head, and then I’m looking at him - the breadth of his shoulders and the cut of his chest. The dark hair trailing down below his waistband. He’s athletic and beautiful. I put my hands on his bare skin and feel him shiver.
“You’re cold,” I say.
“Not anymore.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, one hand sliding into my hair, the other pressing flat against the door beside my head. I arch into him and feel exactly how much he wants this - he’s hard against my hip through his sweatpants, and I make a sound before I can stop myself.
His hand covers my mouth.
“Quiet, remember?” he whispers against my ear.
I bite his palm lightly and his eyes darken.
MATEO
I want to take my time.
I want to learn every sound she makes, map every place her breath catches, draw this out until neither of us can think straight. But the way she’s moving against me - the small, desperate sounds she keeps making even when she’s trying not to - is dismantling my self-control.
I pull her away from the door and toward the bed.
She goes willingly, her hands everywhere, pushing at my sweatpants until they’re around my ankles and I’m kicking them off. She’s laughing silently at my urgency. The sound of it - barely there, breath through her nose - makes me harder than anything has in a long time.
“Scoot up,” I murmur.
She does, crawling backward on the bed until her head hits the pillows, and I follow her, bracketing her body with mine. The soft light catches her face and the hollow of her throat. Her hair is spread across the pillow.
“You’re staring,” she whispers.
“Yeah. I can’t help it.”
She pulls me down by the back of my neck and kisses me hard. I slide my hand up under her shirt - the thin pajama top she’s wearing, no bra underneath - and she gasps into my mouth when my thumb finds her nipple. It’s already peaked, already aching for it, and I roll it slowly between my fingers while she bites her lip.
“I want to feel you,” she breathes.
“Patience.”
