Chapter Three
Mia
His big, strong hands close like shackles around my wrists, pinning me to the bed. I exhale shakily, bringing my eyes to his. Those warm brown eyes that haunt my dreams, amusement dancing in their depths, somehow coexisting with his dominance as he leans down and buries his face in my neck. I moan as he leaves a trail of kisses, shuddering with pleasure. I pull at my wrists, wanting to free them, wanting to explore his body, but he doesn’t let me.
“Uh uh,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at me. “I want to take it from you, Mia.”
It’s sick, the throb of excitement that shoots through me. “We can’t, Mateo.”
“Sure we can,” he says, like it’s easy. Like there’s no reason he shouldn’t be pressing his hard cock against me, no reason for him not to lean in closer, his face hovering mere inches from mine. It’s like I’m waiting for his permission to breathe, and he won’t give it.
And then he kisses me, and my eyes close, my brain fogging over with desire. I know there are valid reasons why neither of us should be doing this, but his tongue sweeps into my mouth, silencing all of them. I push against his grasp again, desperate to touch him, and he presses down harder. He moves my arms higher over my head, holding them at the wrist as his other now-free hand skates down my side, inching toward my closed legs.
“Fight me, Mia.”
I can’t breathe with how much I want him, but I’ll do whatever he wants. If he wants a fight, I’ll give him a fight.
I twist away, struggling against him as he forces his hand between my clenched legs. “Mateo, stop it. Please.”
He smirks, liking when I beg, even a little.
So I beg some more.
His fingers move inside me and I forget to fight, forget to pretend I don’t want him. I get one of my hands free, clutching his torso, trying to pull him closer. “Please, I need you inside me,” I whisper.
He practically growls with pleasure, and excitement courses through my whole body. I want to please him with the same level of ferocity as always, and it doesn’t make sense, but I want it. I want him.
He lets me touch him for a moment, but then he pins me down again. “Now, now, Mia. Be a good girl.”
“Too late,” I mutter.
He chuckles at that, and my heart fills up. His eyes meet mine and I see the warmth, I see that I matter to him, I see his affection for me, and my desire only grows. How I could have captured the interest of this man is beyond me, but I never want to let it go.
And then suddenly, like a bucket of ice water dumped over my prone body, I recall why we can’t.
“Wait,” I say, not playing. He can see I’m not playing, and even though he can take when he’s not playing, he stops. Lingers near me, his fingers caressing my jawline.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
It’s almost painful to get the words out. I don’t want to, but I don’t want to hurt anyone, either. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” His lips move nearer my face and he drops a little kiss where his finger was just a second ago, leaving a trail along my jawline, inching closer to my mouth. I have to stop him before he gets to my lips. If he kisses me again, I won’t be able to say no. I won’t be able to mean it.
“You have Meg. I have Vince. We can’t do this to them.”
Instead of seeing reason, instead of stopping, he lets his hand drift between my legs again. As he enters me, toying with my body, he makes an even bigger play with my heart. “They don’t have to know.”
---
I jerk awake, disappointment striking me like a damn lightning bolt.
I groan quietly, squeezing my legs together, turning in bed. Oh, god, that was so mean. Why?
Worse than the frustration is the guilt that hits me next, when I look at Vince asleep next to me. In our bed that we share, because we live together; I’m a monster.
I’m so tempted to wake him up and make him fuck me, just to sate the desire that stupid dream has stirred, but it’s too fucked up. So I lie here awake, aching and miserable, frustrated beyond all reason, wanting the man I can’t have.
The man who wants me, apparently.
God, life isn’t fair. Why can’t anything with Mateo ever be easy? Or at least not traumatizing? I would take just slightly less life-ruining. But no. It even hurts when he’s nice. Everything has to be completely impossible with him.
Though it would’ve been significantly nicer if he’d have bothered explaining what it means that he wants me. Nothing? Everything? Does that change anything, or did he just decide to throw a bone at my unrequited love for him? Just enough to keep me on his hook, since I have been avoiding being alone with him lately?
I have no idea.
And it’s Sunday. I have to go over there with Vince tonight and have dinner at the table with Meg and Mateo. Not to mention Vince, who is so completely pissed off at me right now that I’m honestly shocked he doesn’t explode with the pent up rage. It wasn’t bad enough that I danced with Mateo, or that I pined while he danced with Meg. After that, after Mark comforted me in the hall, he hauled me out on the dance floor. And for a little while, I rejected the reality of my Morelli life, of the unending sentence of some variation of torment, and I had fun. There was no stress. No angst. I didn’t feel torn apart. I didn’t want to cry. Nothing hurt. Everything felt okay. I felt my age.
I feel like being a Morelli has aged me dramatically. And I’m not even a real Morelli. I’m not even as much one as Meg, because she wears Mateo’s ring.
That at least cools the fires of my sexual frustration. Boy, is it not sexy to think about your best friend wearing the ring of the man who starred in your sex dream.
This is gonna suck.
Since sleeping is a lost cause, I get a head start on the day. My GPA benefits from my lack of sleep and I do some extra studying for an exam I have coming up this week, going over review questions I didn’t think I’d have time for since I was busy helping with Francesca’s wedding. After that, I make us some breakfast. My stomach is still feeling a little icky, but it’s probably just the ulcer I’m inevitably developing by living my life.
Vince emerges from the bedroom while I’m cooking. I take a moment to admire how cute he looks, all sleepy and shirtless, not yet remembering how much he hates me.
I should’ve woke him up and made him fuck me. Since he’s furious with me, he would’ve been rough. I could’ve pretended he was Mateo.
That’s so fucked up. I shake my head at my own depravity, then turn my attention back to the eggs.
We don’t speak. I sort of hope he will. Maybe he hopes I will. But in this, like so many other things, neither of us bends.
Since he wants coffee and I didn’t make any, he joins me at the counter to make some.
I finally do speak, glancing at his hands as they measure out the coffee grounds. “I would’ve made some.”
“I’m capable of doing it myself,” he states.
I nod, turning the burner off. “Well, the eggs are done.”
“Thank you for making breakfast.”
It’s reassuring that he’s still thanking me. Last night was so awful. I swear, I expected him to leave me today. That he’s thanking me for making breakfast makes me think he won’t.
“Of course,” I murmur, reaching over him to grab us some plates.
We fall quiet again. He gets some food and heads to the breakfast bar. I remain at the counter, keeping an eye on the coffee. I’ll at least pour him some once it finishes brewing since I didn’t think to make any. Last night being so bad, I’d like to do something nice for him.
We’re about halfway through breakfast when my cell phone rings. Dread becomes me when I see it’s Meg’s cell phone.
Then the guilt hits me, because I shouldn’t dread hearing from my best friend. But Vince is right, I’m a shitty friend. Such a shitty friend.
I don’t answer. Vince notices and lifts an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything.
A text flashes across the screen a moment later. Vince peers over to read it before I can even reach for it. He snorts.
Then I read it and see why. “Stop humping your sexy boyfriend and call me.”
Yeah, that deserved a snort.
But it was normal. I wasn’t sure what to expect after that dance, after she watched me the way she did, so I just wanted to avoid it. I hate confrontation. I’d rather ignore someone for the rest of my life than have to face them if they’re pissed at me. Which makes Vince my perfect match, obviously.
Obviously avoiding forever isn’t an option with Meg.
I hold the phone, debating which excuse I should send back. I don’t want to call her.
Vince speaks up now, smirking into his coffee cup. “She’s trying to remind you of your place.”
“What?”
Indicating himself, he says, “That you’re taken. You know, since you act like you’re not.”
“If I’m such a shitty girlfriend, you can leave me,” I tell him casually, dropping the phone on the counter, deciding not to even respond to it.
“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks mildly. “Then you get none of the blame and all of the freedom. Do you think it would take a whole hour before you were back at the mansion on Mateo’s dick, or a little less?”
“This is fun,” I tell him, looking back at him over my shoulder. “I’m so glad we’re having breakfast together, baby.”
Standing abruptly, he grabs his plate and brings it in to dump the rest in the garbage can. “Why don’t you call back your fucking friend,” he flings back.
“I’m busy,” I tell him, even though it’s obviously not true.
He nods and turns back to grab his coffee.
Then a moment later, he turns back and hands me the phone. He smiles at me, eyes dancing with pleasure. My eyes widen on the display and I see the seconds ticking down, indicating the call has been made. I hear Meg’s sing-song voice saying hello on the other end.
I glare at Vince, jerking the phone out of his hand.
I mouth “fuck you.” He winks and mouths back, “Maybe later.”
“Hey,” I say into the phone, my tone falsely cheerful.
“Hey, lady friend. What’s up?”
“Oh, you know, just… enjoying Vince’s company.”
Vince chuckles and heads off down the hall.
“I figured today would be a fun day for you,” she remarks. It goes unsaid whether she means because of Mateo or Mark, but that there are two options instead of one today really emphasizes the fun-factor.
“Yeah, we’re a real Eminem song over here. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I was thinking, why don’t we go out and grab lunch? I know we have dinner later, but just the two of us.”
“Vince and I just finished eating, actually. Big breakfast. Huge. There’s no way I’ll need to eat again before dinner. But thanks anyway.”
“Well… then what about shopping? Not too long, just a couple hours. I need to get a new maternity dress or two for these dinners. My stomach is starting to severely limit my dress choices. I’ll buy you shoes!”
Cracking a smile, I tell her, “I’m actually good on shoes right now. I’d also love to help you pick out some maternity dresses, but I have a really big exam this week that I haven’t studied for at all. I’ve been so busy with the wedding and everything. But we’ll go this week or something,” I throw out.
“I kind of feel like you’re blowing me off.”
My face burns. I didn’t expect her to call me on it.
Laughing uneasily, I say, “Why would I blow you off?”
“I don’t know,” she returns easily enough, but it sets me on edge. “Is there some reason you’d be avoiding me?”
There’s only a few seconds of silence, but each second is like a whole day. “No,” I finally answer. “Of course not.”
“Good,” she chirps.
“We’ll go this week,” I assure her, feeling the need to back up my lie. “We’ll get you lots of pretty dresses.”
“Mateo and I have a baby doctor appointment this week, but we’ll do it another day.”
I wince. God, the image of Mateo and Meg at the baby doctor together makes me legitimately ill. It’s impossible to imagine that’s not precisely why she said it.
I’m so fucked.
I need to get it together. Or talk to Mateo, but that’s an intimidating prospect. Probably better to just wait him out and fake it with Meg. More stressful, certainly, but….
“Yeah, definitely,” I say, a little brighter, feeling the need to overcompensate. “Well, Vince is in the shower so I have a few minutes of quiet. I should probably take advantage and get started on that studying.”
“Yeah, of course,” she says. “We’ll see you guys at dinner.”
We. That’s twice in a minute. She’s definitely trying to drive the point home. Or I’m being Mateo-levels of paranoid, but I don’t think it’s that. He put a target on me with that dance last night. I don’t know what the man was thinking.
Which is the real issue, because Mateo wouldn’t have done that by accident. I don’t know why he wanted to kick up so much shit around me, but he must have known what he was doing.
Now if only I did.