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touches on the website he d built for Condi s. Mateo had called Pablo and filled him in on what
they d learned from the agents.
Tommy shook his head.
It really was a small world, wasn t it? And no matter how far he d run from Brooklyn and the
violence of gang life, he was once again immersed in it up to his eyeballs. He d had no problems
working for Los Pescadores, the men treated him fairly and he d been relatively removed from the
day-to-day goings-on. He d been behind locked doors with bulletproof glass. He d been spared the
gory scenes he knew Mateo and Pablo and the rest swam in all day, every day.
Yes, he d been thankful to not have to deal with all that. To be able to live a somewhat normal
life, but Mateo s reappearance dredged it all back to the surface. Sure, the gang was disbanded. He
had no idea what Mateo did with his days now, no idea how he filled his empty hours.
Nameless and faceless fucks?
That.
He d pushed Mateo this morning, pushed for something he thought would ve been a no-go. Mateo
bottom for him? He d expected the other man to scoff and shoot him down. There d been the initial
fear in Mateo s eyes, but he hadn t said no.
He hasn t said yes, either.
Maybe he d thought Tommy was a bottom boy. Maybe he could be, but what Tommy knew after
the couple guys he d dared get busy with was he liked being on top. Liked it enough to proposition
Mateo. He d been scared out of his mind as he dragged the knife over Mateo s throat while posing the
question.
He couldn t believe that was him, holding a knife to Mateo s throat. Shit, he couldn t believe
Mateo let him. The other man continued to call him kid, continued to look at him as someone who
needed to be helped, to be taken care of. Tommy liked that, sure, but he wanted to lose control, to
watch someone else lose control because of him, his touch. Mateo might not be aware of it, but he
treated Tommy as a victim. He damn sure considered him a victim, subconsciously at least.
Tommy had been through way too many therapy sessions, sat through way too many hours of
psychobabble bullshit not to recognize it. He was better, he knew that deep down. He d never truly be
over the damage of being held captive, of being hurt so deeply. The person who was supposed to
protect him betrayed his trust. It wasn t Tommy s fault. He d long since stopped hurting himself and
he knew how to deal with the need that arose in him, especially in the middle of the night when sleep
refused to put in an appearance. When his restless dreams brought the memories to the forefront of his
mind. In those moments he d sit in the middle of his big empty bed and replay his one night with
Mateo.
He d never felt as wanted as that night. Never felt as human and sexy. Mateo s touch did
something to him, to his mind, then and now. It had scared Tommy how much he d wanted to give in,
relinquish control of his pleasure, of his body and mind to Mateo. He d needed an excuse, anything, to
back out, to run.
Mateo s attempts to tie him up had been the much-needed impetus to balk.
Tommy touched his lips with two fingers. The kiss this morning was more than he d imagined.
Much hotter, brighter. A kiss that melted him quicker than any flammable liquid ever could. Mateo
swore he wanted all of Tommy, and Tommy wanted him. He never stopped wanting Mateo, not for a
second. Back then he wasn t sure Mateo would do right by him, what with the jumping from bed to
bed.
Now Tommy had seen the sincerity in his eyes. The choice was his, had always been his. Did he
stay or did he go? Did he allow himself to be vulnerable with Mateo, even though there was a
possibility for heartache, for heartbreak? A man like Mateo wasn t used to being with one person day
in and day out. He liked freedom, he liked variety. He liked his conquests.
What would happen after he conquered Tommy?
Security. What he wanted. Guarantees. But life had none. Mateo couldn t give him any. The choice
was his to make, and as he stared unseeing at his computer screen, Tommy still had no clear idea
where he d lean. Which side he d choose.
He peeled down the glove covering his left wrist and stared at the faded scars that gave away his
secret. Mateo had to know. His decision was already made.
While Mateo talked with his family back in Brooklyn and waited for the delivery man to arrive
with the pizza they d ordered for dinner, Tommy grabbed a shower. Now that he d made his decision
his skin felt too tight, sensitive. His body already throbbing for what he d set his mind to do.
Giving in was not giving up. He was giving in to what he felt for Mateo, to what he d wanted for
longer than he could remember.
They sat on the floor in the living room, consuming the large meat-and-pineapple pie, washing it
down with beers. In between chews they talked freely, bringing back memories of their time spent in
Brooklyn. Tommy had no qualms about traveling down that particular road. His tenure with Los
Pescadores had been uneventful, save for that one night. He had fond memories, and he recalled them
all with a smile.
When they finished eating, Tommy waited until Mateo had cleared away their mess and sat back
down before he spoke.
I asked you a question this morning.
Mateo glanced at him, then quickly back to the beer in his hand. A muscle jumped at his temple.
You did.
He didn t sound committed to either a yea or a nay, and Tommy spoke again before he lost his
nerve and pussied out. Before you make your decision, I d like to show you something. He kept his
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