Chapter 7

The smell of fresh paint and polished wood in the new house made my stomach churn. Every box the movers carried up the main staircase felt like another nail in the coffin of my privacy. My mom was downstairs, practically glowing with excitement as she argued with Carlos about where to put an absurdly expensive rug. Me? I just wanted to disappear.

I was carrying the last box of my books down the hallway on the second floor when I stopped dead in my tracks.

Right across from the room I’d been assigned, the door opposite mine stood wide open. Mateo was standing in the doorway with his back to me, tossing his hockey duffel bag onto the king-size bed.

He was half dressed.

No shirt, just a pair of gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The muscles across his back were tight and defined, tanned from the summer and sculpted by countless hours on the ice. His dark hair was a mess, still damp from sweat or maybe a quick shower.

He turned slowly, as if he’d sensed me standing there. The moment he saw me, that infuriating, crooked grin spread across his face.

“Like the view, little brother?” he teased, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his bare chest.

My brain short-circuited.

The memory of the night before hit me like a hockey puck flying at full speed—the pressure of his body pinning me against the bathroom wall, the smell of his cologne mixed with anger, the sting of his teeth catching my lower lip… and the taste of his mouth.

My pulse shot up, not from fear, but from the violent confusion burning through me.

None of it made any sense.

I hated him.

I’d hated him for three years.

He had shattered Sofi’s heart.

He was the enemy.

I dropped the box of books onto the floor with a heavy thud that echoed through the hallway.

Before he could throw out another smug comment, I closed the distance between us in a few long strides, planted my palm against his bare chest—his skin was burning—and shoved him backward into his room.

Mateo didn’t resist.

He just let out a quiet chuckle as I forced him farther inside.

I slammed the door shut behind us and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, yanking him closer until he had no choice but to look me straight in the eye.

“Why the hell did you kiss me?” I hissed, my breathing uneven. “What kind of sick game are you playing, Mateo? Huh? Are you trying to mess with my head? Make fun of me? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Mateo didn’t even flinch.

In fact, his dark eyes dropped briefly to my mouth, following the rhythm of my breathing before meeting my gaze again.

Without losing that arrogant smile, he wrapped one hand firmly around my waist and pulled me closer.

Our chests collided.

I could feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart against mine, his cool breath brushing across my face.

He leaned in until his lips were only inches from mine, keeping me trapped in his grip.

“It’s not a game, Lucas,” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating straight through me. “It’s actually pretty simple. Every time you come looking for a fight and start talking trash…”

He smiled.

“…I’m going to shut that pretty little mouth of yours with a kiss.”

The air froze in my lungs.

I stood there completely stunned, unable to say a word, feeling the heat of his hand through my shirt as the space between us became almost nonexistent.

Mateo seemed to enjoy every second of my mental meltdown.

He gave my cheek a light, almost patronizing pat, let go of me without warning, and took a step back, leaving me standing in the middle of his room trying to regain my balance.

“Now get out of my room,” he added with a wink as he turned to grab a T-shirt from the pile on his bed. “And close the door on your way out. I don’t like strangers watching me get dressed.”

That asshole.

I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I refuse to let an idiot like him become my stepbrother.