Rivers end boxset volume.., p.44
River's End Boxset Volume 3, page 44
“I would like to know why you were never young. Why you got this tattoo. Why you work here. Where you came from. Everything. I want to know you, Mateo. All about you.”
His gaze scanned over her face. “Why? We could just fuck and end this. There is no need for so much talking. We are so opposite that we don’t have to do this.”
“This? As in what?”
He shut his eyes, closing the window to the most churning, intense soul she ever imagined.
Eyes open now, he grabbed her wrist hard but not hard enough to bruise her. “You’re so gentle. No one’s ever touched me the way you do.”
She sucked in a breath. “You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that. I don’t know. It’s strange for me.”
She lifted her other hand and ran her fingertips over his. He tightly gripped her wrist. She raised a finger and said, “You don’t have to hold me so tight.”
He released her immediately. “I’m sorry. Force of habit. I… usually only touch out of…”
“Not from tenderness. I’m getting that.”
Her gaze studied his forehead, his nose, his full lips, the sharpness of his chin and the long column of his decorated throat.
She leaned forward and he flinched at her proximity, which made her heart ache. Was he that startled or that afraid? She could only wonder. She was sorry to see how unfamiliar a gentle caress was for him. He became so suspicious of her desire for simple affection. She ran her hand from his neck to his shoulder.
The muscles beneath his skin were smooth and she flat-palmed her hand over the slope of his neck to the round cap of his shoulder. She softly cupped the other side to match. His gaze drilled into hers. His mouth puckered and she leaned forward to place her mouth on his.
Warm, smooth lips. Holding onto his shoulders, she pushed forward towards the heat of his mouth, and just like the first time, she was drawn into the vortex of something new and singular.
A special chemistry with all the sparks and energy of passion. They created it. Rose never imagined such a feeling ever happening to her.
She leaned forward, holding his shoulders tighter as she tilted her head to change the angle of the kiss. Her tongue gently rubbed his closed lips. He finally opened his mouth and she moaned as she kissed him. He resisted her. His mouth was open and his tongue engaged with hers, but he didn’t fully respond. He reserved part of himself from her. She didn’t know what or why exactly. She couldn’t explain it. She just knew that he did it.
With one last kiss on his lips, she pressed her forehead on his. “I want to be comfortable with you. I want to kiss and touch you without worrying do you want me? Do you like this? What do you think and feel? I just don’t know, Mateo. I can’t read you. I can’t figure you out. You have a cool, even gaze that conceals what you think and feel. But I can’t get comfortable, at least, not until I’m sure of you… and myself with you. You have to let me in. You have to open yourself up to me, just a little. If you want to… that is… See? I don’t know. Do I leave you now and let you have a good laugh at the stupid girl who keeps showing up here? Do you think I’m lame or stupid or what? I don’t know.”
She sucked in a breath for courage and lifted her face from his long enough to stare into his eyes. The cool, even gaze.
“Please tell me. Am I crazy or do you feel the same way too? I know we make no sense. But that doesn’t stop what I feel. Am I alone in that?”
Finally. Good crap, he could hold a stare and the moment far longer than she could. He did it without flinching, turning away or filling the silence with awkward words, movements or twitches.
The weird tremors slid down her body, which she found both sexy and intimidating. He was probably feeling hatred and annoyance at her. As always, she didn’t know.
“You’re not alone.” The words were low and soft as he pinned his gaze on her. “No one has ever shown up for me. Just for me. I don’t know how to handle it. I tend to distrust it. But I like how it feels. And I like how I feel when you’re around.”
He slowly rose to his feet, making her step back to accommodate him. He towered over her. She stared up at him, gulping down all the words that filled her heart and hung on her tongue. She was good at expressing herself with words. She talked a lot. A lot more than he did. But she had no words left to say right now.
Shaking his head, the springy, short hairstyle made him look sexy and dangerous. He embodied every fantasy a woman could have for a man, but he came with a warning: look out or your heart could get broken. “I don’t know how to tell you the things I think and feel. Often, when I’m with you and when you’re near, I can’t breathe. I can’t explain it. I keep thinking I’ll blink and you’ll disappear. I wonder why you’re here, in this shack, with me. On purpose.”
Her breath and heart stilled with astonishment and hope. Wonderful hope at what he said. Made all the more poignant since he rarely expressed himself so eloquently. She didn’t realize how much she wanted to be in his shack with him until that moment. Kissing him made all the insane chemistry churn and stir, but his words? God, his words offered the hope and light that made their physical relationship feel even stronger.
If it were anyone else, Rose would have finger-combed his freshly coiffed hair—that she cut—off his face. She would stretch up on her tiptoes and reach around his neck and pull him down to kiss him. If he were anyone else… Any other boyfriend or casual date would have easily received that kind of treatment. It was nonchalant, pointless, fun and interesting, but never deep or meaningful.
Now her heart was lodged in her throat and nearly choking her with undeniable feelings. Hope. Nerves. Confusion.
The only thing she could do was be honest. So she told him that. “I am here to be with you. I’m not a figment of your imagination. I’m not special or different from you. I’m a woman, and I feel all the things you’re saying you feel. But I’m nervous and I want to do something right now. I have trouble reaching for you casually or with affection as I often do with my friends. What I feel for you is so deep and strange that it’s far more than friendly. But at the same time, I can’t force myself to breach the wall you insist on building around yourself. It’s that intimidating to me. It’s why I first came here. I thought I could jump or climb or crawl over it. But apparently not because it’s still there.”
He stared down and his eyes were again unreadable. She sucked in a deep breath. Honesty was her only technique with him. “You’re doing it now,” she whispered.
He nodded but his face didn’t change, although his head tilted. “I want you to do all those things. I don’t know how to respond to you. I freeze up. Every single time. No one has ever wanted me to respond. Don’t you get that? No one. No one has ever asked me to touch them or wanted to touch me. It’s just sex. Fucking. Not what you’re talking about. I don’t know those rules. I don’t know how. It’s so easy for you. Your warmth just oozes out of you. I feel like a block of ice. But I don’t mean to, I just don’t know how to melt it.”
She smiled. Brightly. Genuinely. “That was a good start. Just say your thoughts. No matter how hard or strange it feels. It opens you up. There’s a lot I can do with that.” She stepped a few inches closer to him, setting her hand on his chest. She did not fail to notice the contrast of his bare, tattooed, busy and very different chest. She stared at her white, freckled hand against his dark skin. It looked so pretty. It felt so right. Their personalities were symbolized. His dark intensity against her wholesomeness and light.
She could feel him breathe. His physical reaction to her touch. He was speaking to her through his body language. He desired her. She slid her hand over and made a trail up the right side of him. Sliding her other hand from his stomach all the way to his neck, she looped her hands and stared up at his face. His expression was blank and harsh and she remembered his face never showed his heart, his wants, his needs, his thoughts or his feelings.
He didn’t know how to show or tell her those things, but she knew they were there. He was trying to open himself to her. It was a start.
“You can put your hands around me now.” She kept her smile small and warm, and resisted the affectionate teasing she wanted to do with him. His body seemed taut, so stiff and tight. He didn’t react, but his hands moved to her waist. She pulled herself right against him when he failed to do it. Her hands drifted down his back, following the curve of his spine. She loved his silky skin and sinewy muscles and she shivered when she felt him underneath her hands. So much for her to explore.
His was new and uncharted territory and a strange bubble of excitement thrilled her. She imagined conquering and exploring him. It was so new and strange when it came to sex and a budding relationship. She’d never felt like this before.
Rose was better equipped to process and deal with the novelty and strangeness of her feelings. Mateo’s coping abilities and even his frame of reference were impeded by his lack of familiarity with them.
Sucking in a sharp breath for courage, Rose rested her hands around his waist and pulled herself against his chest. She pressed her head right against his illustrated chest. Right under his collarbone, she lay completely against him.
He hesitated, but finally put some strength behind his hold and hugged her back. She smiled because he couldn’t see her face. She closed her eyes and rested quietly. Content to feel fully against him.
A hug.
She wasn’t sure he understood what hugs were for. There were so many indications that his life was lonely and lacking in affection from his childhood to his youth. Then he went to prison. He found no caring or nurturing there. Things like swim lessons and even bedsheets were suddenly luxuries for God’s sake. That defined Mateo’s life until now.
After he had sex with her, he withdrew literally and figuratively because he didn’t know any better. The thought of reaching out to hug her, or take her hand, or say a kind word to her were beyond his cognition. No one did that to him.
She wanted to have sex with him but learning more about him seemed more important to explore. The undeniable chemistry she felt only heightened the magic.
For long minutes they stood embracing. Hugging. She noticed a subtle change in him. His biceps tightened. She could feel them near her ears. And his grip on her waist was more evident as his fingers dug into her. He was engaged. Fully.
He suddenly grasped her next to his body, and plastered her to him. She felt like a life preserver being clutched by a drowning man. When he moved his head and rested his chin on top of her head, there wasn’t an inch of space between them. She wilted against him and let her relief wash over her.
Something so new and different, even desperate and needy, but he was showing her something he felt. He was sharing with her. Words might still escape him. But this was a start. And she dared to believe he might be feeling all the wonderful things that she did.
God… was it ten minutes? Yeah, at least that long before she pushed off him just a little bit. She stared up at his blank face and said, “That is quite a hug. The kind that I want to have more often. And I want you to initiate it sometimes too. I don’t want to be the only one doing it. And I especially want you to do it after we have sex.”
His mouth twitched and he sounded amused. “We get to have sex again? When? And I do know what a hug is.”
Her head shook. “Sex comes after you learn proper hugging. And you don’t really know how to yet. Do you? Who was the last person who hugged you?”
His mouth tightened and she gave him the same grim look. “Someday, you’ll tell me who hugged you last. You’ll eventually tell me all those things. We will talk and hug and yes, have lots of sex. But it has to be all tangled up in us, Mateo. I mean it. And I won’t be deterred by your absence of skills. I’m going to coach you through this and you’re going to take my advice and guidance. You’re a fast learner so I know you can do this.”
“Who said I’m a fast learner?”
She rolled her eyes. “Your quick intelligence was something I didn’t fail to notice when I first met you. Now who hugged you last?” she repeated, ignoring his surly response and the strange grimace of pain that clearly shone in his eyes.
“I… I can’t answer you. Because I don’t honestly know.”
“That’s what I feared.” She tightened her arms. “Well, you can hug me now. Okay? All the time even. You get that?”
He chuckled and lowered his mouth to her ear. “You’re a bossy, little thing.”
“Oh? You don’t even know yet.” She looked up. “You said you felt things about me?”
“Yeah. I can’t describe… I don’t know how to say what you want to hear.”
“Do you feel lots of things for me?”
He hesitated and seemed to be scanning his body. Then he nodded, and his face became more serious. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Then that’s how you begin. You know you feel lots of things for me. And now you can hug me when you feel them. Remember this: your face often doesn’t show me that you want to hug me or that you feel things for me. That’s what I see so I don’t always know what you feel. So you’ll have to work at improving that for me. Make any sense?”
He laughed and she knew it was because of his nerves, and he was trying to hide them. He wasn’t comfortable with intimacy. Obviously. Never being hugged for years, how could he be? His head tilted back and he replied, “Makes sense.”
He didn’t release her but pulled her back to his chest and she stayed there. She wanted Mateo Alvarez to be fully cognizant of what it felt like to be held and loved.
“Rose?”
She was almost asleep, cocooned in the warmth of his muscles and flesh. “Yes?”
“I like this. I like how this feels.”
She smiled and didn’t laugh but sealed her lips. She was gravely serious and caring when she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. “Me too.” More than a million flowery words could have been added to her reply, but that seemed enough for today. She did not want to overwhelm him. His feelings and emotions existed and that’s all he seemed ready to say about them.
It must be disconcerting when you can’t express your own thoughts and feelings. Was it because no one cared? Not ever? Was it due to his chronic childhood pain and trauma? What was the source of it? Or was it simply neglect?
She didn’t have the full picture of him yet, but she caught a glimpse of a tiny corner of it today. And she was ready and willing to let it slowly reveal itself to both of them.
CHAPTER 8
ROSE BROUGHT A FEW small amenities to Mateo’s place. She got there early so when he came home late from work, as he often did, he would be greeted by her and a hot meal. She finagled a house key by claiming she wanted to pick up the dinner early because he inevitably worked late. He never got home at the same time twice. Whenever he finished his work for that day was when he came home.
He walked in and froze, his gaze panning around, the usual strained look on his face. “What did you do?”
He took in the line of candles that she set on the lone windowsill. They were the kind that ran on batteries and could not burn down the small wooden hovel.
There was no chance she’d take that risk. The flicker and glow against the fading sunlight streaming through the window was lovely, homey and sensual as the last of the daylight seeped out.
She previously cleaned the window, scrubbed the floor and all the other surfaces, including the bathroom. The fresh scent of natural citrus cleaner pervaded the air. She also lay a clean, fluffy rug along his bedside, providing softness and warmth to bare feet when one slid into bed. The space was so small, it also served as padding when standing at the small sink to wash dishes by hand.
She put her spare set of sheets and a comforter on his bed. It was a lavender quilt she used in her dorm at college. Her dorm bed was the same size as Mateo’s so everything fit snugly.
She expected him to furrow his forehead when he saw the freshly made bed in lavender sheets… It was probably warranted. Rushing to explain, she said, “I used my old bedding. I’m sorry it’s lavender but it’s all I had. I didn’t pick them up from town or choose that color.”
He examined the room all around. No words yet. He noticed the obvious cleaning and a few niceties. Two fans now cooled the once stifling, stagnant air. One stood as wide and round as a bicycle wheel. The smaller one was clipped to the bed and adjustable. They could aim it to hit their faces or anything else with a heavenly swirl of cool, moving, fresh air.
“You… what did you do?”
“Just a few things to make it more comfortable.”
“It’s a shed. It’s not supposed to be comfortable.”
“No… it’s a shack. And making it more pleasant makes me feel more comfortable. Far more comfortable than the first time I was here.”
His dark eyes blazed on her. “It’s not good enough for you.”
“That wasn’t true for one moment. It was too hot before. Your sleeping bag is made of nylon and flannel, which is stifling when it’s hot… so yeah, I brought some creature comforts. I can easily remove them all. I just thought it was nicer this way. We can’t go to my place with Iris there and you want to keep this on the down low—right? You can’t accuse me of being a snob, because I’m here. You can’t say I’m hiding you either, since you’re the one who insists on that. I’m simply working within your parameters. And since I get way too hot when I’m here, I wanted to improve the accommodations. Now it’s pretty pleasant… right?”
“My bed is purple.”
“Actually, it’s lavender,” she corrected him, wincing when he scowled as she took a step back. “Okay, purple. You think I went too far?” She grew quiet. “I wasn’t trying to establish my presence here. I just thought a few niceties could make it more like home.”
“Home? Why would I ever claim this piece of shit as my home? It was cheap and easy and there was no you at the time. I never planned to stay here.”
