“Probably.”
Neither of us finishes.
“I’m leaving soon,” I say.
“I know.”
“So, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It always mattered, Elida.”
I don’t have an answer for that. I grab the front of his training jersey and pull.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s teeth and tongue and his hand fisting in my hair, tilting my head back so he can bite my lower lip. I gasp into his mouth and he swallows it. His other hand slides down my back, grabs my ass and pulls me against him. I can feel how hard he is through both our layers and I moan. I’ve been pretending not to want this for so long and I’m so fucking tired of pretending.
“I’ve missed this,” he says against my mouth.
I pull his head back by his hair. His eyes are dark. “Say it again.”
“I’ve missedyou.”
I kiss him harder. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
“Neither have I.” His hands grip my thighs, lift. “Every night. Every time you looked at me and pretended you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t pretending. I wastrying.”
“Trying what?”
“Not to want you.”
He laughs - low and rough. “How’d that work out?”
I answer by jumping. He catches me without thinking and I wrap my legs around his waist. I can feel him through his pants, against the thin layer of my leggings, and I grind down without meaning to. He groans.
“Fuck, Elida.”
“Then do something about it.”
He’s already walking us toward the locker room.
The door swings shut behind us. He sets me on the bench and I pull him down by the neck and kiss him until we’re both breathless.
Finally, he draws back.
“You’re really leaving.”
“In a few weeks.”
“We don’t have much time.”
“No,” I agree. “We don’t.”
He pulls my jacket off. Then my base layer. His fingers are quick and sure. My sports bra goes next and his eyes drop to my chest. He makes a low sound before his mouth follows.
He sucks one nipple hard and I arch into him, my fingers digging into his shoulders. His hand cups my other breast, thumb rubbing rough circles, and I can feel myself getting wetter with every pull of his mouth.
“Mateo-”
