“It’s yours,” I say.
“I don’t know what to say. It must’ve cost you a fortune. I just … wow. I’d beg you to return it and get your money back, but I don’t want to part with it.”
I kiss him on his cheek. “It’s okay. I didn’t need that college fund, anyway.” He cocks an eyebrow, and I smile mischievously. “I’m just kidding. I had money saved up from babysitting and birthdays.” With my forefinger, I run a path down the front of his shirt. “Besides, you’re worth it.”
“That’s debatable, mi chava.” He stills my hand. “It’s the coolest gift anyone’s ever given me.”
“Good. Mission accomplished.”
“Not yet.” He puts the meteorite gently back in the box and kisses me passionately until I’m wanting more and my insides are melting. I’m breathless and never want to stop. Knowing that we’re alone, and I have another gift planned for him, makes me want to skip dinner altogether. “Thanks for the gift,” he says against my lips.
“My pleasure.” Flustered now, I step away from him and gesture to the dining room, where everything is set up. “I made an authentic Mexican meal.”
“Recipes passed down from your abuelita?”
“Not really. Try a cookbook I bought yesterday at the mall.”
He laughs. “Next time you want to make an authentic Mexican meal, call me first. Mi'amá taught me and my brothers to cook when we were kids.”
After serving him a plate of chicken enchiladas and guacamole, I realized that I should have followed the recipe and mixed the avocado by hand instead of blending it in a mixer. It was like soup, and did not taste good at all. I made a flan for dessert, but it fell into chunky gelatinous pieces as I served it to him.
“You did an awesome job,” he says as he fishes for the slippery flan eluding his spoon.
“You’re lying. It sucked. Face reality, Luis. I should have ordered takeout. If you were Mrs. Peterson, you’d give me a D minus on this meal.”
He laughs. “An A plus for effort. The tortilla chips were awesome.”
“That’s because I bought them ready-made at the Mexican grocery in Wheeling,” I say.
When we’re done, he helps me clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Afterward, I see him leaning against the kitchen counter watching me. “You have a plan for the rest of the night, or are we gonna wing it?”
I take his hand and weave his fingers through mine. “I have another birthday present for you.”
“What is it?”
I lean close to his ear and whisper, “Me.” He swallows, hard. I watch as the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Want to go upstairs … to my bedroom?”
He nods slowly. “I didn’t think you could top that meteorite gift, but you just did.”
I take his hand and lead him to my room. My heart is racing the entire time, because I’ve prepared myself for this. I tell myself it’s okay, because I want this as much as Luis. I’m in control here. I just have to keep myself in check and not let my emotions run wild.
Luis walks around my room, studying the pictures on my wall. Most of them are of me and my friends. Some are dogs from the shelter. He stops when his eyes focus on the one of me and him at Alex and Brittany’s wedding two summers ago. We both had no clue the photographer had caught the moment on camera.
He points to it. “How did you get this?”
“Brittany brought it over when she had dinner at my house one night.”
He points to the expression on my face. “You were so pissed. Look at me, with that stupid-ass cocky grin. I thought I was the shit back then.” He shakes his head, then scans the rest of the pictures.
While his back is turned to me, I reach around and slowly unzip my dress. “You are the shit, Luis,” I say in a teasing voice.
“Nah, I’m—”
He stops midsentence as he looks at me and it registers that I’m unzipping my dress. My mouth is dry as I slide the straps down my shoulders slowly until the material falls to the floor in a pool at my feet.
His eyes never leave me. Mine never leave him.
“What were you saying?” I ask.
“I forgot.” His gaze travels down the length of my body. I dressed in pink lace panties and a matching bra, prepared for us to be together tonight. “Mi chava …” He takes a step toward me. “I didn’t think you could look more beautiful than when you opened the door tonight. But you do.”
I hold my breath in anticipation and longing as his fingers skim lightly over my shoulders before gently slipping my bra straps aside.
This is okay, I tell myself. I can enjoy this and stay as emotionally detached as I want. His lips replace his fingers. He kisses one shoulder, then brushes his warm lips across my neck and kisses the other one.
I grab on to him for support because his warm breath brushing over my skin makes me dizzy. I want him here with me, I want him close … but this is sex. It has to be just sex.
I grab him over his pants, then unzip his jeans.
“Easy, girl,” he says, amused.
He puts an arm around me, holding me steady, as he bends down to kiss me. It’s not just any kiss. His lips move slowly over mine, brushing against them before his tongue reaches out. I feel his hot breath mingle with mine as our tongues glide over each other’s in a slow rhythm that makes my skin hot and sweaty. His hands move slowly up and down the curve of my back in the same rhythm as our kiss.
Truth is, being with Luis makes me want to ditch all of my self-awareness and give in to every temptation.
He pulls his shirt over his head, then tosses it aside. He’s got a big scab on his arm. “What happened?” I ask, tracing around it.
“Just got a cut workin’ at the garage,” he says, dismissing it.
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