Lean On Me #Wattys2016

Part 32

Ashlyn

He tastes like whiskey and every fantasy I've ever had. His strong hands hold my arms, pinning up against the wall as his mouth presses onto mine—demanding and surrendering all at once. I part my lips for him and love the scratch of his beard against my soft skin. He pulls away slightly, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth. His hands slide down my arms until he has my wrists and he lifts them to the sides of my head, releasing his hold so he can intertwine our fingers. Then he moves my hands in his above my head.

He rests his forehead on mine, his eyes still closed as he breathes me in. I know exactly what he's doing because I'm doing the same thing only I'm watching him, captivated by the need to experience his next move. He kisses my neck while he moves one leg between mine and presses in on me, truly pinning me to the wall with his body. It's sexy and possessive and I feel like I might pass out from the rush. "Mateo," I whisper, wanting my hands back so I can feel him.

His warm mouth sucks the skin at my shoulder and I squeeze his hand in mine. The alcohol in my system is making everything more intense. I can feel the roughness of his face, the strength of his chest against mine, and his firm thigh between my legs. I tighten my legs around his, tipping my hips to allow the denim of his jeans to slide up my inner thigh. If I move much more the bottom hem of my dress will be around my hips and I'll be flashing anyone who walks down this hall. The funny part is I don't care. I have him here, in my hands and I won't let anything get in the way of us right now.

His teeth nip at the soft skin of my neck and goose bumps break out all along my flesh. I turn my face into him, pulling his ear lobe into my mouth until he can't fight it any longer and he lifts his head allowing my mouth to surround him. My hands are going numb from the tight hold he has on them and their position above my head. He shifts his hips forward and I can feel where he is hard against his zipper as it rubs up my thigh towards my hip. It's delicious anticipation. I'm practically chanting to myself, more, more, higher, closer. A flush races up from my stomach, across my chest and spreads out over my cheeks. It's like a fire is burning hot and white inside me and if someone doesn't put it out I might go up in flames.

His lips are back on mine, nipping and pulling. His teeth graze my tongue and my lips and my own tongue pushes past his swollen lips to find the warmth of his mouth. We aren't thinking or planning—just crashing together in a hot mess that has been brewing since the day he walked through the doors of my work. He is everything I've ever wanted and now that he has his hands on me I never want him to let go.

"Tell me," his voice is rough and demanding. He doesn't finish before his tongue is back in my mouth again and I arch my back so that I can feel him all along my body.

"Tell you what?" I ask desperate to say anything he needs me to say. He doesn't answer. His mouth is too busy connecting to mine, melting me from my lips to my toes.

"Tell me," he demands again. And this time he pulls back, his face looking dazed and his eyes so heavy with lust only a small portion of their chocolate color shows from beneath his lashes. "Tell me," he starts again and hesitates like the answer to the rest of his command might be bitter on his tongue. "Tell me he's not your boyfriend." He kisses me again before I can answer and my heart hurts for him. I know if I were to say he was, he'd be shattered. I know because I feel the same way about him. He finally pulls away from me so he can look in my eyes. I'm speechless. All the emotion I see in them makes it hard to breathe.

The last two months have been hell. I've been keeping my distance but it's been killing me. I watch him when he doesn't see me and I celebrate each time he's made a gain in his motion or weight. I've come early on Tuesdays so that I can see him leave the group room; desperate for the day he tells me he's ready. And now that I'm looking at him—truly and clearly looking at him—I see that he's been waiting just as desperately for me.

"He's not my boyfriend." I smile when the words finally break free.

"You're date?" he asks no relief to be heard in his voice. I shake my head slowly.

"Friend and roommate."

Mateo squeezes my hands tightly and then lets them go. He moves to touch my face, holding me gently as he looks into my eyes. "I missed you even though you've been right in front of me." He makes my stomach flip and my heart beat wildly. "I watch you everyday. I think of your name as I jog and plan where I can take you when you finally agree to a date."

I fist his shirt at his sides and pull him even closer, sucking his lip into my mouth this time and feeling my head spin from the words he's shared. "I've been waiting for you," I say, my throat tightening making the words hoarse and needy.

"Sunshine, I've been right here the whole time." 

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