Page 3 of Heat Transfer
I placed my hand on his shoulder, not sure what I planned to do beyond that. We stopped along the sidewalk, and a second later, he was plastered against my chest. My bare chest. My arms moved on automatic, wrapping him in a sweaty-as-fuck hug, and my heart thumped so hard he must’ve heard it. We stayed like that, hugging it out in the middle of the sidewalk, and I didn’t want to move an inch.
Felix fit in my arms like he belonged there, and the tug in my gut was undeniable. I rarely felt it around the guys I dated, which was probably why none of them had ever worked out. The chemistry part of the equation had always been lacking, andno matter how much I tried and for whatever length of time, it couldn’t be fabricated.
Too bad it occurred as often as the Flyers winning the Stanley Cup.
Felix pulled back first, and I reluctantly let him. He lifted the fabric of his shirt off his chest. “Thanks for the extra sweat stains, champ.”
Heat flushed to my cheeks, but the impish grin on Felix’s lips calmed me down. He hated having his issues brought to attention—I knew that much about him—so the fact he mentioned his breakup to me in the first place meant something. I leaped for any scrap of attention from this man.
“Figured I couldn’t have you showing up at Granita looking all put together while I’m a mess,” I said. “Why am I the one who always ends up a bucket of sweat?”
Felix looked me up and down, his gaze so intense I shivered. “Have you seen you, big guy? You’re a hundred percent brawn. I’m just lucky I’m scrappy enough to keep up.”
We continued down the sidewalk and made the right turn onto the block with Granita. The salmon-colored overhang stood out, along with the three wire tables and chair sets scattered in front of the place. My sneakers caught on the occasional chip in the sidewalk as we headed toward our goal.
“Scrappy is underselling it,” I said. “You’ve put me on my back more than once.”
Ngh.
It had been a long, long time since I’d wanted to bottom for someone. Most of my boyfriends liked me to top, and hell, sinking into a pretty hole was no hardship. However, once in a while, I met guys who inspired a bone-deep craving to bend over and let them fuck me senseless, but it was rare.
For some reason, every touch from Felix, every teasing comment flared that desire to life stronger and stronger.
“So, how many grief tacos should I eat?” Felix asked, his voice taking that sharper edge when he aimed for flippant yet still sorted through some shit.
“Why don’t you get the trio you usually do to start? I’ve got you covered.” I tugged my shirt, which was somewhat drier, so I wasn’t a complete barbarian.
“Now they’re pity tacos? Please, I’m not that sad, am I?” Felix slipped his hand into his pocket.
“Completely. Like a poor, bedraggled puppy,” I teased. I wanted to see his eyes light up or catch the faintest grin.
“Brutal.” Felix shoved me to the side and entered the hole-in-the-wall taco joint. It was all checkerboard flooring and stained wall interior, but the scents of seasoned, juicy meat were mouthwatering. A few people crouched in the two seaters wolfing down their tacos, but this was more of a “drop in, get the hell out” sort of spot rather than stay and linger. Even though we usually did.
I walked to the counter and placed our order.
“I’ll go snag a table outside.” Felix jerked a thumb. “Thanks for the pity tacos.”
I shook my head, an unavoidable grin rising to my lips. After waiting barely five minutes for our food, I carried the two trays out, my heart thumping hard—and not in anticipation over the meal.
No, the second I stepped outside to spot him sitting there at the wire-rimmed table, my mouth went dry.
He leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, face toward the sun. The light accentuated those dark eyelashes, those pursed lips, that slender neck.
Felix Ruiz was the hottest man on the planet, and I got sucked into his orbit every time.
And now he was single.
Chapter two
Felix
“If you ask me that one more time, I’m going to stab my eye out.” I scowled at my brother from his couch. This was why I lived in the city and not the suburbs.
Space away from him and my parents.
“All I’m saying is that we have a spare room,” Marco called from the kitchen.
“And I already have an apartment. Just because my girlfriend is moving out doesn’t mean I’m homeless.” This was the bullshit I’d been hoping to avoid, but because I’d accepted Marco’s invite for game night, that meant the inquisition to follow.