Page 63 of Resisting the Temptation
My mom’s oldest, Michael, is super chill. He hates drama and likes to be left alone. He’s always cracking jokes and trying to lighten the mood.
“I honestly couldn’t tell you much about my oldest brother. I didn’t really know him until I was eight, and he was already almost thirty. He’s kind of just an asshole.”
Mateo frowns. “I can’t imagine not knowing my siblings. But I only have two, so our situations are different.”
I snort. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”
I can tell he wants to ask more questions, but I motion for him to continue up the stairs. He leads me to a closed door, and when he opens it, I immediately know it’s Cici’s old room. The pink walls and floral bed sheets are soft and feminine, matching her perfectly.
Mateo confirms it’s hers then leads me to the next door.
“Now, don’t feel bad, but you’re not the first girl I’ve had in my room.” He winks as he opens the door.
I feign offense. “Howdareyou! I’m supposed to be theonlygirl you have in your room.”
“Don’t worry, you can be the most memorable.” He pumps his eyebrows again, and I smack him on the arm. “Ooo, I like ‘em feisty.”
“Oh, stop it.” I giggle, taking in the room. I imagine there were plenty of posters or memorabilia covering the pale blue walls when he lived here. The queen bed is topped with a navy-blue comforter, but the room is warm and inviting just like Mateo.
Mateo grins. “The color of the walls match your eyes. It’s almost likefate.Has anyone told you how pretty your eyes are?”
I roll my eyes. “You are quite the charmer, Mateo Rossi. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“All the time. But I like hearing it from you most,” he drawls as he steps closer to me so our chests are almost brushing. His voice is low when he asks, “You’re the girl my brother was talking about, aren’t you?”
I swallow, looking anywhere but at him. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
Mateo uses two fingers to tip my chin up so I’m forced to look at him. He and Ben look related, but not the same. His eyes are brown, like Ben’s, but they’re lighter, softer. Closer to a golden brown than Ben’s deep coffee-colored ones. There’s a glimmer of humor there, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle when he smiles at me.
“I think you are. And I think he’s going to burst into this room any second and rip me a new one for touching you. Ben has always been a possessive man,” he teases. “As his little brother, I like pushing his buttons.”
I’m about to argue that he’s being ridiculous. Ben would never do something so dramatic. But not ten seconds later, the door clangs open, and Ben stands in the doorway, arms folded across his heaving chest. “Get your hands off of her.”
From this angle, I’m sure it looks like Mateo and I were about to kiss. Mateo winks at me again before he removes his fingers from my chin and steps back. “I was just showing Emma my room, nothing nefarious.”
“You need to be standing an inch away and touching her face to show her your room?” Ben snaps.
Mateo shrugs. “Wanted her to have the full experience.”
“Mamàwants your help in the kitchen.”
“Does she? I thought she’d be done with—”
“Now.”
I watch Mateo bite back a smug, confident grin before he leaves with a wave and a wink to me. He whispers something to Ben that makes him grind his jaw before he’s out the door.
“Let’s go see my old room,” Ben demands, and I follow, rolling my eyes at his alpha-hole attitude.
Ben leads me across the hall, opening the door to his childhood bedroom. I expected a navy-blue room, or even black, to match his grumpy personality. But instead, the walls are a calming sage green. The bedspread is dark gray with matching green embroidery.
I don’t get to see much else because Ben’s large body is pressing mine up against the now closed door.
“Why was he touching what’s mine,Dulzura?”
I want to fight him. I want to tell him I’m not his. But for some reason, all I can do is tell him the truth. “He told me he thinks I’m the girl you were talking about at lunch, and that at any second you were going to burst through the door and get mad at him for touching me.” I smile. “I guess he was right.”
“Fucking Mateo,” Ben grumbles, but he doesn’t confirm nor deny he was talking about me at the table. I try not to let it affect me.
