Teacher I Want To Date Page 19

  “Mason, shut up and kiss me.”

  She pulled me down and flicked her tongue over my lips, and it was game over. I was a goner. Lovemaking could come later. Right now, I was going to screw her senseless.

  It didn’t take long for her moans to hit a high-pitched tone and for her body to writhe beneath me with her release, followed by mine. And it was glorious. It always was with Gabby.

  I collapsed on top of her as she held me tightly. Our hearts thumped to an irregular beat, hard and fast and overwhelming.

  “You’re going to kill me one day,” I whispered, out of breath and wiped out like I’d run a full marathon.

  She giggled against my chest, and it was the most glorious sound.

  I loved this girl—my girl.

  After my body calmed down, I pushed myself from her and disposed of the condom.

  Her eyes were lazy and relaxed, but her smile was blinding. “I think we should fight more often. Because the make-up is so much sweeter.”

  I frowned and blinked down at her. “I don’t like it when we fight.”

  Yes, the make-up was awesome, but I hated getting all fired up. I wanted to love her, not fight with her. And I did love her, and I wouldn’t let it slip nonchalantly again. I wanted a redo of this moment, and it would happen.

  I slipped my arms under her knees and lifted her. If we were going to be lazy or go for a second round, it would be in the comfort of my bed.

  She snuggled against me, her arms wound tightly around my neck. “I was just joking, Mason.”

  I turned my head to kiss the inside of her wrist. “I know,” I said. “I wasn’t though. I don’t like fighting.”

  I walked us to my bedroom, kicked the door shut, placed her on the bed, and pulled her into my chest. I loved how she felt against me, her warm skin against mine, the way her head fit right in the crook of my neck. She was perfection, perfectly made for me.

  She nestled closer, and I didn’t want to break the comfortable silence, but it needed to be said. “I wanted to kill him for talking to you that way. But when I saw him touch you …” My voice trailed off. I’d have been back in jail if Brad hadn’t been there to stop me.

  Her fingers drew light circles on my chest. “He wanted to talk, but he was grasping at straws. I told him I would never get back together with him. Ever.”

  I believed that much at least, knowing Gabby and her integrity, but the fact that I knew he wouldn’t stop trying to get her back irked me.

  I adjusted us so that our faces touched, and her warm breath skated against my skin. “I’ve never gotten that mad.”

  A small laugh rumbled in her chest, and she rested her chin on her hands. “Thank God, because that was a side of you I never want to see again.”

  Now, it was my turn to laugh. “Yeah. I think I kind of blacked out right before. Then, my fist was against his jaw, and all I knew was that I wanted him down for the count.” My whole body tensed as I relived it.

  Gabby could sense it because, a moment later, she placed a palm against my cheek. “It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m here with you now.”

  I placed my hand over hers on my cheek. It would be fine, more than fine because … “I love you, Gabriella Cruz. You flew into my life like lightning, fast and furious, and you completely knocked me on my ass in the best possible way.” My plans be damned. I decided I’d tell her I loved her whenever I wanted, however I wanted from now on.

  She stared up at me, ready to interrupt my proclamation, my perfect moment, so I kissed her to silence her. She wasn’t ready, but I was okay with that.

  I pulled back and said what I needed to say. “I love you for your fierce determination to succeed in everything. I love your love for your family, your love for your kids, your love of life and value in integrity. I love you for you, Gabby. All of you.”

  She slapped my chest and then swiped at her face. “Why do you have to be such a sap, such a cornball?”

  I laughed. “I’m not sorry.” I pulled her hand down, peering deeply into her eyes.

  I was conflicted. Should I tell her that she was it for me, hopefully my forever? Because, in the flash of a second, I could picture it all, beautiful little daughters with brown eyes as vibrant as hers, a house we would custom-build, a swing set in our backyard.

  Before I could stop it, the words rolled right off my tongue. “Gabby, you’re the whole package. You’re it for me.”

  She shook her head, swiped at her tears one last time, and kissed me full-on. “I love you too, you crazy, neurotic, germaphobic man.”

  I laughed against her kisses. “Thanks. I think.”

  Who the hell was I kidding? I’d take it. Whatever she’d give me, I’d take it, store it, cherish it forever because that was the kind of man I was.

  I nuzzled my nose against hers. “So, can you take me to see your family now?”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “If that’s what you really want, fine. And if you survive them, I’ll keep you.”

  I didn’t know if I should be scared or excited. To be honest, I was a little of both. All I knew was that I needed to make a good impression.

  Chapter 23

  Mason

  Full-on, no holds barred, I had brought out the big guns. I’d baked my mother’s recipe for brownies. Thick and gooey, utter perfection. I sat in the car and pulled down the visor, checking my hair one last time. I’d gotten it cut two days before, gotten a new outfit—something casual, not too formal and preppy. Something that screamed, I’m a nice guy; you want your daughter to date me and love me and keep me.

  I was sitting in front of Gabby’s house, taking in the single family ranch. Blue shutters highlighted the windows, a contrast against the white siding. I could picture Gabby sitting on the porch with her coffee with two sugars and five creams, chatting it up with her sisters, ragging on her younger sister Martina to get out more.

  In the short time we’d known each other, I’d memorized every detail of her life—what she liked, what she didn’t like, her taste in food, her size in clothing. Every detail that I could eat up and commit to memory because I never knew when I’d need to cook her something sweet to celebrate an occasion or buy her something to make up for a fight.

  I took a deep breath, grabbed my brownies from the passenger side, and stepped out of the car. The fall afternoon air nipped at my skin.

  With Janice, there had only been her and her parents—only a few people to impress. This would be different. I gulped as I stared at the packed driveway and the cars lining the street. I’d be meeting the whole family today.

  Gabby had warned me about her large, loud family, and I’d feigned excitement, but as I wiped one sweaty palm down my casual light-washed blue jeans, I was scared shitless.

  Echoes of voices and laughter sounded from inside of their house, and I stood by the doorbell, looking over my pristine outfit one last time.

  Now or never, right? I wanted to take this relationship to the next level, so this was it. This was the next step.

  I pressed the doorbell once and waited for a few seconds. Then, I pressed it again and waited some more. I could hear the doorbell ringing, so it wasn’t broken.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I knocked on the door.

  Nothing.

  After a beat, I turned the knob and was bombarded by the scent of spices and meats as I took in the crazy number of people inside. There must have been twenty-five people just in my vicinity, squashed around the small living room.

  I stepped fully inside, and suddenly, everyone’s attention was on me. What had been noise and chaos slowly shifted and dimmed.

  Heat spread up my face. I was visibly sweating at my brow. Nice.

  I waved awkwardly and blew out a breath. “Um … is Gabby here?”

  Five guys, broad and wide, eyed me. Some older women examined me from the far side of the room. Laughter of kids echoed somewhere in the house.

  An older woman stood. She had short, curly white hair, narrow hips, and the wa
rmest smile. “Gabby.” Her voice was firm, loud, one that I wouldn’t expect to come from a woman of her petite size.

  Teetering on my newly polished shoes, I widened my smile. “Hi.”

  Gabby entered the foyer in an apron that had tacos on it, which was too adorable. She wiped her hands on the apron and grinned, and I swore everything else dulled to a hush as I took her in, her hair half up in a ponytail, her gorgeous, bare face, and her cheeks naturally flushed, most likely from working over the stove.

  Two tiny kids ran through the foyer.

  I stepped toward my girl at the same time the young boy with a cupcake in his hand knocked into me, smearing the cupcake with chocolate frosting up my new cream sweater, lifting it from the little girl trying to get her hands on it.

  “Tristan!” Gabby scolded the boy, trying to reach for the cupcake.

  But Tristan used me as a shield, dragging the cupcake from the front of my shirt to the back. She finally grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the side, and gave him an earful of Spanish I didn’t understand. It must have been bad because Tristan started crying, and he dropped the cupcake, splat on the floor. The little girl picked up the flattened cupcake, raised it to the ceiling in victory, and stuffed it in her mouth, leftover frosting and all.

  Gabby frowned, her face horrified, but a deep chuckle escaped me. Because hell if it wasn’t funny.

  That broke the tension in the room as everyone began to laugh. Gabby pulled the boy into her arms then, kissing his face, and she said something to him to calm him.

  “Mason, I’m Gabby’s mom.” Gabby’s mother stepped through the door and approached me, but I would have known it was her without the introduction. Because thirty years from now, I could picture Gabby just like her mother, gray in her hair but still breathtakingly beautiful with her big brown eyes and curvy, petite frame.

  She stepped forward and took me in from the hair on my head to my Massimo Emporio Italian shoes, surveying me, analyzing everything about me, even my blue frosting–covered shirt.

  It was like … her eyes knew all. From what I’d had for breakfast to what I’d done to her daughter last night, and I swallowed hard.

  I stepped forward and extended my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” My voice was firm, strong, worthy of her daughter.

  And it was truly nice to meet the woman who’d raised three beautiful girls all by herself. I knew it was where Gabby had gotten her strength, her ability to love, her independence. It was awe-inspiring.

  She stepped closer and shook my hand, her eyes crinkling with a warm smile. “I’ve heard many good things about you too.” Her accent was thick, but her voice was sweet, soft, endearing.

  “I brought brownies.”

  She patted my arm and then took the pan covered with Saran Wrap in her hands. “And we are a family that loves to eat.” She tipped her chin toward Gabby. “Mija, can you please get him a change of clothes?”

  “Why doesn’t he change right here?” a girl said, and I turned to see a group of teen girls giggling in the corner.

  An older woman, someone who I would presume was their mother, shot the girl a look, and a slew of Spanish left her mouth.

  Soon, I promised myself that I would enroll in an online advanced Spanish course.

  “Come on.” Gabby reached for my hand and led me through the house to what I assumed was her room.

  I stopped, taking in her dresser in the far corner with an array of trophies—no doubt from dancing—to the bright curtains to the small twin-size bed with the Virgin Mary on her comforter.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Did your mother put that on, so she could prevent me from doing bad things to her daughter?”

  She giggled, shut the door behind her, and reached for the edge of my sweater. “Maybe. Off with this.”

  As soon as her fingers hit my bare waist, my skin was jolted with warmth, spreading everywhere, especially down under my jeans. “Can I take off your shirt if you take off mine?”

  “Quiet … Mother Mary is watching us.” She laughed and then proceeded to help me out of my frosting- and crumb-covered sweater.

  It dropped to the floor, and I couldn’t resist, pulling her in, cupping her face, and meeting her lips with mine. She melted into me, her soft body against my hard chest, and I groaned.

  Would I ever get enough of this woman?

  After a beat, I slowed our kisses to a stop. “Gabby, Gabby, Gabby. You’re making me crazy, crazy, crazy.”

  She chuckled, knowing full well that I wouldn’t take her in this room. Besides the fact that her comforter was staring back at us, her whole family, including the cousins with tats all up their arms, were in the other room.

  “That’s my whole goal in life.” She went on her toes and kissed me one last time. Then, she strolled to the dresser, where she searched for a shirt. “Why do you have to be so big?” She plucked a shirt from the drawer, held it up, and stuffed it back in.

  “Big? I thought all the women liked it big.” I winked at her.

  “Har-har.” She plucked another shirt, a bright pink one. “Buddy, this is the best you’re going to get. It’s the largest one I have.”

  My eyes widened. I couldn’t possibly go out there, wearing that.

  Gabby

  Mason stepped out into the living room, wearing my bright pink breast cancer awareness shirt with a big bra on the front. Giggles erupted, but when I shot the look of death in their direction, they quieted down.

  “Nice shirt,” Carlos shot out from the corner.

  Carlos was my older cousin. Always protective of me ever since my father had left. He had taken on the older-brother role, and so had Jose right beside him and Juan right beside him.

  This was who Mason had to appease. Not my mother or my grandmother, who was eyeing him from across the room. He had to get through the men of our family, my cousins specifically, raised by their fathers, who were protective of all Cruz women. My uncles had been the ones who confronted my father about hurting their sister and leaving his family for another woman, and it would have been a full-on war if my mother hadn’t intervened.

  “Thank you. I think pink is my new color,” Mason shot back, pulling at his shirt that stuck to him like Saran Wrap.

  I linked my arm through his and introduced him to everyone in the room. My mother had been born with four brothers and three sisters, and all had extended and mixed families that made us forty Cruzes strong. Lucky for Mason, they weren’t all here.

  Abuela approached. Multiple thin necklaces hung around her neck, several crucifixes and one of the Virgin Mary. At eighty-two years of age, she waddled slowly and beckoned him to bend down. When he did, she placed both palms on Mason’s face and squinted up at him. Mason froze, and every fiber of his being stood still as though he were a statue.

  “So, Mijo, tell Abuela, do you go to church?” she asked shrewdly.

  The whole room erupted in laughter, and Mason blinked down at her. There was only one right answer here—seriously.

  “No,” he said, and I groaned internally.

  One. Right. Answer. Damn him and his honesty sometimes.

  Even those who didn’t go to church in my family at least pretended that we attended every Sunday mass and stations of the cross on Fridays.

  “No?” She stepped back and gave him a glaring look.

  He cleared his throat and added, “I haven’t been since my parents died.”

  Well, way to silence the room, socially awkward Mason.

  “Yeah, Abuela, they died in a car accident,” I added.

  The sullen look in his eyes had me reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

  She nodded, her features softening, never taking her eyes from Mason’s face.

  He hastily replied, “I’d like to go sometime again soon. Maybe with Gabby.”

  I was gauging his face to see if he was serious, but with Mason, he never said things that he didn’t mean.

  She nodded again, her gray hair bobbing with her head. “Okay.
You come with us this Sunday.”

  He smiled, looking only a little relieved. “This Sunday. It’s a date.”

  And when Abuela smiled, it seemed as though everything was right in the world, and it warmed my heart.

  * * *

  Mason

  I patted my stomach, stuffed with the best tacos known on Earth. Dinner was pleasant—until they started talking in Spanish, and I didn’t understand a lick of what was being said. At one point, I swore they were talking about me because all eyes were on me, and Gabby seemed annoyed.

  Just when my shoulders eased up, the guy who had been introduced to me as Carlos stood from the far corner with his plate. “Mason, I need a word.”

  I blinked up at him as all my muscles tensed. “Okay.”

  Then, two more of Gabby’s burly cousins—Jose and Juan—stood right next to him.

  Carlos tilted his head toward the door. “I’ll meet you outside, in the back.”

  Then, the other two followed out the door of the kitchen to the backyard.

  I wanted to ask, Where, by the garbage cans, where you can dispose of my body?

  I stood, taking my plate with me, but Gabby rested her hand on my arm.

  “I’ll take it.” She placed my plate on top of hers as we walked silently into the kitchen. After she placed the plates in the sink, she went up on her toes, kissed my cheek, and patted my back. “Good luck.”

  “Good luck?” Was she leaving me to the wolves?

  “It’s the way things go.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “They have talked to all my boyfriends ever since I was sixteen.” She held my shoulders and gave me a little push. “Go. It’s fine. They’ve never liked any of my boyfriends, but they haven’t muscled up any of them yet either. You’ll live.”

  Live? That’s the best she can offer me?

  As I stepped outside to the three overwhelmingly muscular men, I realized I wanted more than to live through this situation. I wanted to be the exception to the rule. I wanted them to like me. More than that, I wanted them to like me for Gabby.

  “Cigarette?” Carlos extended a pack, offering me a cigarette.