Page 175 of Raspados & Regret

Junior salutes us from his cooler. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I stare at him.

“Junior,” I say, “that gives us too many options.”

My tía makes a sound like she is praying for my soul. Elías laughs all the way to my truck. The ride home takes ten minutes, mostly because I’m not so good about following the speed limit. Elías sits beside me, one knee angled toward me, yellow shorts glowing in the dashboard light like a warning flare. His hand rests on my thigh, casual at first.

Then less casual.

“Muñeco?”

“What?” He says, acting all innocent.

“Behave.”

His fingers slide higher. “I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m celebrating.”

I swallow hard. “We are three blocks from home.”

“Exactly. Almost there.”

I grip the steering wheel harder, and he leans closer, mouth near my ear.

“I love you,” he whispers.

My whole body goes soft in the wrong places and hard in the obvious one. “That’s cheating.”

“Is it?” He mumbles, his head dropping down into my lap, and he starts playing with my belt.

“Yes.” Oh fuck, I don’t think I could survive Elías giving me road head. I’m not so sure I could ask Jesus to take the wheel in this situation.

“Elías,” I warn, and my voice comes out rough enough to sand wood.

He pauses with his mouth dangerously close to my belt buckle. Then he looks up at me through his glasses.

Innocent.

Fake as hell.

“What?”

“We’re not doing that in traffic.”

“We’re stopped at a light.” He presses a kiss to my stomach. “There’s not traffic at eleven thirty, Papi.”

“That makes it worse.”

“How?”

“Because if you start sucking my dick right now, I’m not moving when it turns green.”

His smile spreads slowly. “Tease me with a good time.”

“Fucking little criminal.”