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Mateo chuckled. “Yeah, she thinks you’re hot for me.”

My blush was instantaneous. “Really? Should I be alarmed?”

“That’s up to you. If you’re worried, you should know my cousins are on to us too.”

I set the spoon on the counter and turned the burner off. “Oh?”

“Yeah, but it’s ’cause you laugh at my jokes, and I’m not exactly funny.”

“Laugh at—what?” I sputtered. “I don’t laugh. I wouldn’t?—”

“Relax. I’m teasing you. They know me, Rob. They know I’m gay, and they know we’re friends now. They’ve also noticed how much time we spend together. It’s just a matter of simple deduction.”

“Oh.”

Mateo leaned against the counter. “In fact, one of them probably saw you come upstairs with me thirty minutes ago, and might think that arrabbiata is some kind of ‘hanky-panky’ code. Does that bother you?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

“Are you sure? It’s okay if you?—”

“I’m very sure.” I stepped between his spread thighs, crooked my forefinger under his chin, and fused our lips in an almost tender kiss.

It exploded seconds later as he grabbed my nape and drove his tongue inside. I tugged his shirt from his jeans and splayed my palm along his spine. His skin was warm and soft. I needed to feel all of him…now.

“Bedroom.” I broke the kiss and licked my lips.

Mateo’s place was a fraction of the size of mine. While my house was light and airy, decorated with the beach-themed prints and ocean-inspired colors my designer had deemed appropriate, there were no real traces of me. Mateo’s living area was filled with family lore—sturdy furniture that had once belonged to his parents, walls decorated with action photos from ski trips and wedding receptions, pics of his dad, his uncle, and more cousins than I’d thought any one person had.

The bedroom was spartan in comparison—a queen-sized bed, a nightstand that doubled as a dresser, and that was it.

Mateo stripped his shirt off and unbuckled his belt. “Let me see you.”

I yanked my shirt over my head, but that was as far as I got. I had to touch him. I pushed him onto the mattress, twirling our tongues as we rolled from side to side, making out and grinding in a furious quest for friction until I captured his wrists and straddled his torso.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Mateo hummed, testing my grip.

“Don’t fight me. I want you to do exactly as I say.” I licked the shell of his ear and whispered, “Got it?”

“Ungh…yes.”

“Good boy. Hold on to the headboard…just like that.”

I tweaked his nipples and slid lower, making quick work of his belt and zipper. I tugged his jeans off with his shoes and socks, then crawled between his legs to look my fill. Mateo’s olive skin was a perfect backdrop for his colorful ink. His muscles were toned and taut, and my God, the light trail of hair pointing south at the bulge in his black boxer briefs was mouthwatering.

I met his gaze as I slipped my fingers under his waistband.

Mateo’s nose flared in approval. I lowered the fabric and fuck, he was beautiful—long, thick, and hard as nails.

I bent over his crotch, inhaling deeply as I licked a trail from his base to his slit. He groaned and lifted his hips. I did it again…and again. I sucked the head and played with his balls, chuckling at his growl of frustration. Mateo was too proud to beg, and I was too wired. And too damn hungry.

So I opened my mouth and swallowed him whole.

“Oh, fuck! Yes, that’s it. Oh, fuck, yeah…”

His enthusiastic moans reverberated in my throat and sent shivers up my spine. I bobbed my head, rolling his balls and tracing my thumb along his crease. I was pushing my luck and I knew it, but for some reason, I felt in tune to Mateo’s body in a way I never had with anyone else’s. Like I could read his every response from the tilt of his pelvis to the desperate tone in his plea for more.

When he grabbed a handful of my hair, I knew he’d reached the end of his rope.