by A. M. Kusi
Mia swiped the tear that fell down her cheek, the open wounds of her grief bleeding out with slices of regret. Every heartbeat pained her as guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders.
“I won’t let her and Papi’s sacrifices be for nothing.” Mia swallowed the ball of emotion rising in her throat.
“Ahhh, cariño, your life and your freedom is all they cared about. You live and be happy. That’s the only thing your mother wanted. She reminded you all the time,” Lucia said, her voice comforting. The woman was the closest thing she’d ever have to family.
“I remember.” Mia’s lips curved into a watery smile.
“Now, go make that delicious food, and don’t forget to have a glass of tequila for her. You know how much she loved celebrations.” Lucia chuckled.
“I will.”
“Invite your neighbors and friends you’ve made there. I’m sure you can find someone to share this day with,” Lucia said.
A pang of hurt added to the turmoil in her chest. She couldn’t invite her neighbor—he’d made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with her. And with no desire for more drama with Andre, she didn’t want to invite his friends who were quickly becoming hers. Besides, today was Lyra’s birthday as well, and she wouldn’t interrupt their family plans. No, she’d do this alone—like everything else.
“Sure,” Mia answered to appease her second mother.
“Well, I’ll let you get to it. Buenas tardes, mi amor,” Lucia said.
“Adíos,” Mia said before hanging up.
She sighed as the music automatically started again, the song far more cheerful than she felt. She took another sip of the tequila. “Salud, Mamá.”
Chapter 14
Andre
Later that night, Andre pulled the car into his driveway. The festive music blaring from his neighbor’s house immediately made him tense. All the lights were on in her house and the windows open, only making it that much more obnoxious. There was no way he would be able to sleep with that noise blaring. He checked his watch—ten thirty. There was a noise ordinance in their neighborhood, and in sixty seconds she’d be breaking it.
“Fuck it,” he said, heading straight over to her door. There was no way she’d hear a polite knock over the loud music, so he pounded his fist against the door. He waited and waited. Pounding the wood again, his impatience grew. Did she have company?
Finally, the door opened, the music growing louder as it bled out into the night. Her dark hair spilled over her naked shoulders. The red dress she wore glittered in the moonlight—her long tan legs and curvy thighs on display for his viewing pleasure. She was barefoot, and for some reason it made him smile.
“This is the very opposite of space!” she yelled over the music as she hiccupped.
He’d been caught checking her out. There was no mirth in her expression. Her eyes were glassy and red.
“I can’t hear you over the music!” he shouted back.
She turned, slightly swaying as she walked away towards the kitchen and dialed down the sound until it was nothing but a soft background noise.
Something smelled amazing. His mouth watered as he followed her inside and shut the door.
She drained clear liquid from a glass and poured more from the near-empty liquor bottle. That explained the swaying.
“What is all this?” he asked, sitting in the same seat he’d taken when he’d visited before.
“It’s my mother’s birthday today,” she said as a beeping from the oven went off. She slipped on a pair of mitts and leaned a little too far left as she opened the oven.
He winced and shot to his feet. She was going to hurt herself. “Let me help.”
She pushed him away with one of her covered hands. “I don’t need your help. I can do it all by myself.”
Her bloodshot eyes bore into him. The pain reflected back sliced him to ribbons. Grief. He slowly backed away and took a seat again.
Mia pulled out a pan before removing the lid as steam rose around what looked like stuffed peppers of some sort. She grabbed a handful of red pomegranate seeds from a bowl on the counter and sprinkled them on top, her hands staining pink.
“Remy told me your parents passed. I’m sorry about what I said before,” he said.
She turned and faced him, leaning against the counter like she needed the support. “You sure are sorry for a lot of things.”
He chuckled. “Only when it comes to you.”
A moment of silence passed as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Every cell in his body wanted to pull her into his arms and make her forget everything for a little while. He wanted to make her feel good.
“So that’s what smells so delicious?” he asked.
“Chile en nogado. It was my mother’s favorite. It is believed that the nuns who prepared a feast for Augustin de Iturbide after he signed the Declaration of Mexico made up the dish to incorporate the colors of the Mexican flag—green, red, and white,” she explained, and sweet baby Jesus, her accent alone was enough to turn his cock to steel.
“You’re celebrating solo?” he asked. The hurt that flashed in her eyes made him want to retract the question. Of course she was—he’d kept her away from Remy and Jasmine.
“I don’t have anyone else.” Her voice was quiet as the room grew more somber. Her words were like a punch to his gut.
“Well, you’re not alone now,” he said. “That is, if you want my company at all?”
She blinked and turned away, facing the window to her backyard.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said, standing. Her shoulders trembled as if she was crying. Oh, Mia. He strode over, and took her in his arms. She leaned against him, quietly crying. He wished more than anything he could fix this. “I’m sorry,” he said, unsure of what else would bring her comfort.
She sniffled and backed away enough to look him in the eyes. “You must think I’m loca.”
“No more than the rest of us. I can’t imagine losing my mother, much less both my parents.”
She looked down.
“Do you want to talk about them?” he offered.
She hesitated, before asking, “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you allergic to nuts?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Take a seat.” She sniffled and reached into the cupboard, pulling two plates down. He followed her movements as she plated the food. She was focused, and the silence was easy between them for the first time. Some sort of Spanish music was still playing in the background as his stomach grumbled.
She set the food in front of him with a fork and knife before placing hers next to him on the corner of the island. Mia poured him a drink from the tequila bottle and then raised her glass. He did the same.
“Salud,” she said.
“Salud,” he repeated.
The first bite was a bit hot. The flavors exploded on his palate. The savory, nutty dish had just the right amount of spice with tartness from the crunchy pomegranates. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” he said.
“That’s because you’ve never tasted me.”
His mind went blank as he coughed and reached for his drink. The alcohol burned his throat as he gulped it down.
“Are you okay?” she asked, patting him on the back. Heat spread from her touch, the blood rushing to his groin. Surely he was hearing things.
“Dios, did I say that out loud? I think I’ve had more tequila than I realized.” Her cheeks blushed red as she took another drink.
“You want to tell me about your mom?” he asked, switching the subject as he adjusted himself in his seat. He should have changed into sweatpants before he came over, instead of the restricting jeans. Now all he could think about was tearing off her clothes and tasting the nectar between her thighs.
“Mam
á was the strongest woman I’ve ever known.” Mia began as she picked up the picture frame from the counter he hadn’t noticed before.
A woman gazed back with Mia’s eyes, Mia’s smile.
“She’s beautiful,” he said.
“She was. She worked so hard to make a life for me here,” Mia explained, her brow creasing as if it was an unpleasant memory.
“She immigrated from Mexico?”
Mia nodded.
Okay, so getting her to talk was like pulling teeth.
“Do you mind if I ask how she died?”
Mia’s eyes grew dark and vacant as if she was no longer present with him.
“You don’t have to—”
“A fire,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
Mia nodded. The vast pools of her eyes glazed as if her mind was a far way off.
He shifted the conversation. “I took some Spanish in high school. I don’t remember much, but I can pick up a few words and phrases.”
“Oh yeah?” She turned her attention back to him as a small smile curved her face.
“Enough to know you said something about me being a stubborn mule the last time we talked.” He chuckled.
Her face morphed into a full smile, the light coming back to her eyes. “Well, you are. It’s the truth, and you made it clear you only wanted the truth.”
“I wanted to let you know I was wrong. You don’t have to stay away from my friends, and I won’t give you a hard time about it.” He ate another bite.
“Do you apologize to other people as much as you do me?” she asked as she studied him.
“Nope. There’s something about you that brings out parts of me I didn’t know existed. Things I’ve never felt before,” he admitted.
She leaned closer. “I can think of a lot more parts for us to explore together.”
The energy crackled between them as he clenched his jaw. The alcohol was weakening his defenses. Why shouldn’t he just give in? What were his reasons again?
She must have taken his silence for a refusal, because she drank down the rest of the liquid in her glass and stood. “Dance with me, por favor?”
It was then the slow sensual music was brought back to his attention. Touching this woman was a bad idea. But he couldn’t tell her no—not when she seemed so vulnerable and breakable. He’d caused her enough pain with his misguided attempts at self-protection.
Andre stood, taking her hand and spinning her around. His chest tightened as a smile adorned her face. She was breathtakingly beautiful. He pulled her close, her body melding perfectly against his. She swayed and moved her beautiful figure hypnotically to the rhythm. Her movements were sensual and confident as her dark eyelashes fluttered closed. His knee wedged between her thighs ever so slightly.
Each moment of contact became more and more overwhelming. His cock was so hard it was burning with the need to be inside this woman. Mia turned, her perfect plump ass grinding against his groin, adding fuel to the fire. Her arm wrapped around his neck as they danced, cheek pressed to cheek. His body was an inferno, raging with desire for her. Andre pressed his hands into her hips, forcing her closer in exquisite torture. Every nerve ending fired, his body pulsing from the pent-up need. He was going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager if this didn’t stop. He grabbed her arm and spun her back around so that she was facing him. He was panting now. It was agony to deny his body any longer.
“Quiero que me chingues hasta olvidar todas mis preocupaciones,” she said, her voice breathy and needy.
I want you to fuck me and make me forget all my worries.
Maybe he wasn’t so rusty with his Spanish after all.
All thoughts left his mind as overwhelming, uncontrolled lust slammed into him. Her scent was intoxicating, poisoning his self-control. He captured her face in his hands.
It was over. He’d given in.
He was going to kiss Mia, and then he was going to do just what she’d asked until she was so overcome with pleasure that she pleaded for him to stop.
“Si, hermosa. Anything you want.”
There was no way he could be gentle—he’d waited far longer for this moment than he cared to admit. He leaned in, his mouth watering with anticipation of her sweet lips on his.
Mia’s eyes grew wide as she slammed her hand against her mouth.
Andre frowned in confusion as she ran out of the room, the sound of gagging following soon after.
Shit.
Andre went after her, holding her hair back as she threw up the contents of her stomach into the toilet. He used one hand to grab a purple towel, and wet it in the sink before handing it to her to wipe her mouth when she’d finished.
“Please, just go,” she begged. “This is so embarrassing.”
“I know I haven’t been the best example of it lately, but my mama raised me right. Let me help you to bed,” Andre said.
Mia nodded as she wiped her mouth again and stood.
Andre held on to her arm and guided her up the stairs towards her bedroom. He slipped into the bathroom and found two pain pills and a glass which he filled with water. Mia followed him inside where she brushed her teeth before accepting the glass.
He held her hand as they walked to her bed, setting the pain pills by the refilled glass for the morning. Just twenty minutes ago, he’d thought he’d be seeing her bedroom for other reasons. How had he let it get that far?
“Can you unzip my dress?” she asked, tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear.
The woman was beautiful even in her brokenness—like shattered stained glass glittering in the sunlight in a mosaic of colors. That was why. This woman was so stunning, it made him weak in the knees.
Andre swallowed and took his time, exposing her soft tan flesh. The fabric dropped to the floor, leaving the black lace underwear she had on underneath and nothing else. The image would be forever burned in his mind. Mia crawled into her bed, covering herself with the floral comforter. Her hair splayed out on the pillow and he couldn’t stop the flash of disappointment he felt at leaving her like this.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well.”
“Gracias, mi héroe.”
Her hero? He’d be a liar if he didn’t admit that he wanted to be whatever she needed. When had that happened?
Since he’d let his heart make the decision.
Her soft breathing signaled she was asleep as she curled herself into a ball on her side. He walked downstairs and began to tidy the kitchen. He couldn’t do this. Mia hadn’t said much, but he recognized the broken look in her eyes. Last time, he’d made the mistake of trying to be a hero for his ex, and look how that had turned out. She’d used him and then left him an empty shell with nothing remaining. He couldn’t go through that again. Mia could be his friend and nothing more.
“I can’t be your hero, Mia.”
Chapter 15
Mia
Pulling open the front door, Mia breathed in the dewy, early morning air. She felt like crap, but she believed it was better to sweat out the hangover than wallow in it. She glanced down. A plate with a piece of cake and a note had been left on her porch. She lifted it, carrying it inside as she read the note.
Every birthday party should have cake.
Mia smiled and placed it inside before heading out for her morning jog.
As she made her way around the neighborhood, she kept checking over her shoulder for Andre. He caught up with her at their usual crossover point.
“Buenos días,” she greeted.
“Good morning to you,” he said, keeping pace with her.
“Thank you for last night.” She’d told him to fuck her and then nearly thrown up all over the man. After all that, he’d left her cake. She smiled. That warm feeling bubbled up in her chest.
“It’s no problem. I�
��d do it for any of my friends.”
He’d made sure to emphasize friends. She sensed whatever progress they’d made last night had been flushed down the toilet too. He was so hot and cold.
“Is that what we are? Friends?” she asked, carefully.
“That’s all we can ever be,” he panted, his chest heaving up and down as he gulped in air.
She couldn’t help the disappointment that squeezed her heart. Not to mention the embers of lust left over from remembering how it felt to have his body so close to hers last night—knowing that if she hadn’t gotten sick, he’d have been in her bed.
“Wanna race back?” She smiled.
He laughed, out of breath. “Sure. Ready, set—hey!”
Mia laughed as she charged ahead before he called it. She pushed herself as her legs burned. His heavy footsteps caught up to her and she swerved in front of him. Her driveway was only another three yards away—she could make it.
“Whoa! Cheater,” he called, quickly maneuvering around her.
She grabbed on to his arm, endorphins mixing in a cocktail with the energy that sizzled between them. As she laughed for real for the first time in a long time, warm joy filled every cell of her body like rays of sunshine lighting her from the inside out. The feeling of freedom enveloped her.
Andre stopped abruptly, pulling her backwards as he spun them around so that he was closer to their homes.
“Hey! Let me go so I can win,” she teased between fits of giggles.
He backed up, holding her in front of him. She couldn’t advance past him.
“No way. You cheated,” he said, out of breath, a smile playing across his lips.
“You’re in better shape than me. I just took an extra few seconds’ head start so it would be fair,” she argued. Her skin burned as he raked his gaze over her.
“I think your shape is perfect.”
Butterflies tumbled in her belly, still drunk on tequila fumes. “Careful, Mr. Stone, those aren’t things friends say to each other . . . unless.”
“Unless what?” he asked.
She took the leap. “Unless they’re friends with benefits.”