He glared at me, his brows wrinkling, his lip pouting out. With a growl, he tugged me in, and I fell into his lap with a laugh. That annoyance was suddenly gone and he smiled the most beautiful smile I’d seen yet, his eyes catching the lights as if all the shit he’d gone through in his young life ceased to matter. I found myself craving to help him forget it all.
I dropped my attention to his lips, needing to know how they felt against mine, thirsting to taste the champagne on histongue. His throat shifted as he swallowed and he parted his lips as if he was thinking the same thing.
I told myself to move,get off him,and stop this train that was determined to steer me toward breaking my promise. My body refused to listen, however. All I could think about was how nice and warm he was against me, and how achingly lost he seemed.
I used the shock of the moment to pull him off the couch and into my arms, where we danced off key. He fought me the entire time, huffing about how silly this was. All of it was bluster to distract from the thing developing between us, of course.
I spun him around in my arms, his shout of glee nice. The alcohol made me tipsy, and I lost my balance. I planted my ass on the couch, Matteo falling in my lap. I wasn’t sure how it had happened, but his lips were suddenly on mine, and his legs were straddling me so that I couldn’t get away if I wanted to. He moaned against my lips in relief, as if he’d been waiting so long for this. Same, brat, same.
The kiss was too brief and just a gentle press of our lips. He pulled away ever so slightly, his fingers digging into the sides of my neck, and I got a quick flash of regret in his eyes.
With a sigh, I offered him a weak smile and got up. “I’m sleepy and tipsy. Going to head to bed.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MATTEO
It was almost two in the morning, and I found it difficult to sleep. Every time I started to slip into unconsciousness, a cough started up and my sinuses were packed with snot, making me miserable. My eyes were pinchy, but that was more from the alcohol than wanting to sleep. My mind wouldn’t shut off. The occasional firework exploding as people celebrated didn’t help, either.
I laid on the couch, watching the shadows play across the ceiling. In the past, a new year hadn’t particularly meant a whole lot except more of the same. When I was seventeen, the holiday started to represent something different–the prospect of freedom from my suffocating circumstances and overbearing parents.
I recalled new year's day of my seventeenth year and the afternoon tradition I took part in. As with every day, we started with a group prayer then shared breakfast. Before meeting at noon, we put on our best clothes, becausewe represent God with everything that we do,as my father always said. Sometimes, I wondered if he actually read the bible, but he was good at twisting narratives. Then we gathered in the study.
First my father came to stand in front of the brass cross and droned on about what he would be doing this year to serve the Lord. His speech usually took upwards of an hour and was the same every year–strict adherence to the bible and its teachings while doing his best to uplift those of our church into power so they could spread the word.
What he’d really meant to say was: buy politicians to enact laws benefiting the pious while stuffing our church’s coffers so those at the top of the chain could buy another jet. Andmy father was at the top of the chain because my family came from money.
My mother was next and like all the years past echoed her obedience to her husband and of course, God in a monotone voice that led me to believe she’d given up on life a long time ago.
My speech that year had stood out. I’d always been obedient and put a lot of effort into my study to placate my father, but that year was different. I’d been in and out of conversion camps disguised as religious retreats, and talked to priests pretending to be psychologists in order toget back on the right path. I came to realize that I had no love for my parents, because they didn’t love me. No matter how much I tried to share my thoughts and emotions, my father shot me down and told me to pray harder. Nothing mattered except complete obedience to God. What I wanted or needed wasn’t important. But that year, I’d rebelled against everything he stood for in the subtlest of ways. I’d snuck little nuggets into my speech that acted as preludes to abandoning the life he wanted for me.
Standing in front of that giant cross, I’d said things like:This year I pray the Lord gives me the strength to live my authentic life.I knew my father had taken it as a sign I wanted to turn straight, but I meant it as coming out of sorts. And when I announced:I will devote everything that I am to my true calling, I’d meant it as:You can’t kill the music inside of me. It will survive and I will go on to live my dream of playing in front of thousands of people in one of the most beautiful concert halls in the world.
Another firework went off, the boom making me jump and I pushed the thoughts from my mind. Drinking champagne and watching the celebrations on television had been fun for me, whereas for anyone else, it was another slightly boring evening. I wouldn’t tell Sean, but I was thankful to him for giving me amodicum of fun in the same way he had on Christmas. He had no idea how much the small things meant to me.
Running my hand over the sleeve of the plaid he’d gifted me, my thoughts turned to him. It was weird to simultaneously like and dislike someone, but the more I thought about it, I came up with a single question: What exactly did I dislike about him?
He’d thrown me out of the club multiple times and confiscated my fake I.Ds but I’d never been much of a party-boy. I preferred a relaxing evening with some music, dinner, and maybe a movie. All the sweaty bodies and loud techno beats wasn’t my style. So, that wasn’t a reason.
He was hot and helped me understand I had a type. Big and burly, lots of hair with arms that could snap your spine if he locked them around your body. Eyes that burned like emeralds and a smirk that made it obvious heknewI was more bark than bite. Oh, and two.
If I thought about it some more, I could come up with a million reasons to like him. Then there was the fact that he had one huge thing going for him–he’d practically saved my life. If he hadn’t walked by, I was sure I would have died in that alley. If the cold hadn’t gotten me, the pneumonia would have. So, it was hardtryingto hate him.
It was funny how one minute I hated his guts and the next I wanted to rearrange them.
I heard him moving around in his bedroom. A moment later, he stumbled past me on the way to the bathroom, naked. His tight butt dusted with red hairs, flexing as he walked, perked me up and I smiled stupidly. I’d seen several asses in the last few years, mostly in a magazine or on the television, but seeing one in person and this close did something to me. Maybe I had fallen asleep after all and was caught in a nice dream.
He hissed as he stubbed his toe on something and disappeared into the bathroom. I listened to him pissingfollowed by the trickle of the bathroom sink. And when he mosied into the kitchen for something to drink, I found myself drawn to him.
The awkward-sexy moment we’d shared earlier raced to the front of my mind. He’d touched me so easily as if it were no big deal, as if hewantedto. And I’d found myself wanting him to touch me. I was going to be a big boy and admit I was as attracted to him as much as I found him irritating. Perhaps, I was so irritatedbecauseI was attracted to him.
He was standing by the refrigerator, drinking straight from a bottle of juice, the light creating a halo around him as if he were an angel sent to guide me. Only, I didn’t think angels looked this damned good. His back was muscular, less hairy than other parts and he had some sort of slinking tattoo going on. And his ass… Lord have mercy, but my blood turned molten. I wanted to reach out and give it a good squeeze to see how firm it was. Maybe slap it to test the bounce. I was turning into a harlot.
“Fuck!” he snapped and nearly dropped the bottle of juice. “Jesus…you scared me. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to lurk around in the dark?”
“Sorry,” I rasped, not actually apologetic. Because now he was facing me and I got a good look at his body casted in blue from the low light. Okay, so I was definitely into love handles. It took everything I had not to drop my attention to his cock. Instead, I blinked at him wide-eyed, my heart sending vibrations through my veins.
He cleared his throat. “What’s up?”
