Mateo told me stories about him and his brothers. How he took his role of little brother to heart and made sure to keep them on their toes. It was clear he was close to his family and looked up to Wyatt and Landon.
I learned he liked cherry-flavored things, even cough syrup, which was the most disgusting flavor on the planet. Along with his dislike of avocados, Mateo wasn’t a fan of mayonnaise, something we both agreed on, and he hated any and all amphibians. He literally shivered talking about them.
“So,” I said as we left the market and headed for his car. “I noticed you have a thigh tattoo. What is it?”
“Checking me out, huh?” Mateo smirked. I rolled my eyesand tugged on his hand. The same hand that he only let go of twice in the last two hours.
“Come on, show me your slutty thigh tattoo,” I pleaded.
“Slutty?”
“Yeah, everyone knows a thigh tattoo on a guy is a little slutty.”
“Interesting,” Mateo hummed.
“Mateo.” I pulled him to a stop on the sidewalk, not caring people had to go around.
He laughed under his breath before he reached down and pulled the hem of his shorts up a little. A few inches above his knee in simple script were the words:for those that raised me.
“I got it for my family.”
Our eyes met and the realization settled deep in my chest. Mateo was genuinely good. Not the kind you pretended to be. He wasn’t performative. This was just who he was at his core. He might’ve been one of the league’s most sought-after quarterbacks, absurdly attractive, and splashed across billboards all over the city, but he was humble.
I’d met my fair share ofgood guys,only for their real side to show eventually. With Mateo, I knew what I saw was what I was getting.
“It suits you,” I managed, though emotion made it hard to get the words past my lips.
“Thanks.” He tugged me forward to keep walking.
We were almost to the car when he spoke up again. “How about you? Any tattoos you want to show me?”
“Can’t see it with my clothes on,” I answered. My Olympic rings were on my ribs.
“Is that an invitation to undress you?” Mateo’s eyebrow went up, tone dropping low with intent.
With the car a few feet ahead, I pulled my hand out of his and stepped back, walking in front of him backward andnever breaking eye contact. A slow smile curved my lips. “Do you want it to be?”
I didn’t wait for his answer.
Turning away slowly, I let the space grow between us, every step a challenge. I couldfeelhis eyes on me, heavy and unblinking, and he followed after me.
I made it all of two steps before his hand was at the back of my neck, fingers threading just enough to make my breath catch. He spun me back to him, no warning, no space to recover.
“Don’t walk away from me like that,” he murmured.
Then his mouth was on mine.
His kiss was hungry. Possessive. Like he was claiming me. All I could do was grab the front of his shirt and hold on as a rush of heat swept from my head to my toes.
Our lips danced and our tongues tangled. In all my years, I’d never been kissed the way Mateo was kissing me now.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, our uneven breaths mixing.
Something shifted deep in my chest, and I knew he just unlocked something I couldn’t pretend wasn’t there.
15
MATEO
