“I missed you, my scary Mexican.” Beth stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. The slashes on his face had healed – no, that wasn’t the right word; they had closed. He had two parallel silvery purple scars visible above his short beard. He had also let the hair on his head grow longer. Presumably he had not been able to shave while it was healing. He looked even more like a thug with the facial hair. Her heart skipped a beat. He also looked undeniably sexy. Was there any look this man could not pull off? She was tempted to poke him in the eye so he would have to wear a patch. That would complete his transformation.
“I missed you too, Gatita.” Torres kicked the door closed with his foot. He put down the grocery bags he was carrying and picked her up, lifting her off the ground so her lips were level with his and then he kissed her.
Her lips parted for him, inviting him in. The short stubble on his chin scratched her. She shivered at the sensation of smooth and rough. She opened her mouth further, needing more. She moaned into his mouth.
Her legs wrapped around his waist. He grabbed her ass, lifting her higher as he carried her across the wooden floor. He laid her down on the couch without taking his mouth away from hers. She pulled his hips down against her. Her thumbs laced through the loops of his jeans.
He pulled away from her. “You can’t say I never kiss you.”
Beth held his face in her hands. She loved his face: his scary, scarred, bearded face. Her hand dropped to his chest. She pulled up his shirt so she could feel the burned skin. Her palm slid over the knotted skin. Her heart hurt, it felt too full.
Caring about him would only hurt. But she couldn’t stop. There was no point in pushing him away. Her heart already ached with her need for him. If she could stop it, she would. But she couldn’t.
“I need you,” she breathed into his mouth. Her hands dropped to the button of his jeans. She unzipped his pants, and his cock sprang out, long and hard. She stroked him from tip to base, loving the feel of soft skin over the solid erection.
She pulled down on his jeans. Her hands cupped the heavy weight of his balls. She licked her lips. She wasn’t good at this, probably because she had never wanted to do it. Blowjobs had always been a chore, something she felt obligated to do so at least one person was having a good time.
But she wanted Torres. She wanted to suck on his cock until he came down her throat. Just the thought of it was enough to make her wet. Suddenly she reconsidered her plan. She wanted him inside her too. Her body felt empty and only he could fill the void. She was always on borrowed time with him. There was so much she wanted to do with him, to him, let him do to her. She fought the urge to tear off her panties and let him take her on the couch, let him rut away until he grunted and came inside her. She could almost feel the hot squirt of him against her cervix. God she wanted him but right now she wanted to taste him the way he tasted her. She wanted to make him come, feel his cock twitch and spasm between her lips. Tentatively she licked the smooth head and then around the ridge. The way he groaned and fisted his hands in her hair told her she was doing it right. She took him further in her mouth, taking him until he hit the back of her throat. Her eyes watered, but she wanted more. She licked her way to the top, sucking gently on the broad tip before sliding down towards the base, taking in more this time.
He groaned. Encouraged she pushed herself further, willing herself to take more. “I’m…I’m going to come if you keep…I’m,” he moaned but it was too late; hot sperm squirted against the back of her throat.
Before she even had the chance to swallow, his mouth was on hers kissing her. Could he taste himself on her? He lifted her from the couch as carried her through the hall and up the stairs.
“You’re so strong,” she whispered. It was like when he carried her in Mexico. She had never felt so small or so safe or so completely connected to another person.
He laid her on her bed. His jeans were still unbuttoned but he didn’t take them off. He stared down at her lovingly, almost in veneration. “I missed you.”
She sucked in a ragged breath. He leaned down to kiss her. She held his head in her hands and stared at him, taking in each of his features. She was making a memory. She wanted to remember him like this forever. When it was over, she wanted to remember this, how he looked, how he smelled, the feel of his beard on her skin. Pressure built behind her eyes.
He kissed her again, this time sweetly, the urgency gone, only the sweetness of an intimate connection left. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling. Never had a kiss felt so intimate. For the rest of her life this would be the kiss to which she compared all others.
“I missed you,” he breathed again into her hair. He kissed her neck, stopping only to pull her Tshirt over her head. “I missed you.” He unhooked her bra. Again he stopped to look at her. Her skin grew warm. He kissed her breasts, gently palming them, rolling a taut nipple between his fingers. Slowly he kissed his way down her chest to her belly. He unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down along with her underwear, leaving her naked. He gazed at her, taking in every part of her, but she felt no self-consciousness this time, his gaze was too warm, the desire in his eyes too real. He looked at her like she was beautiful. She felt beautiful with him.
Gently he pushed her knees apart. He slid his large hands under her hips and pulled her up to him, positioning himself. Again he gazed at her, studying her, loving her? She tried to push the thought away but she felt loved.
His head dropped between her legs. She took in a sharp breath as his tongue gently stroked her. He kissed her, like he kissed her mouth, slowly, savouring, tasting.
Blood surged through her, drumming with the same passion as his tongue strumming against her. Instinctively her hips lifted to meet the strokes of his tongue. Her hips rocked against his face. His beard was rough on her delicate flesh but his mouth was so soft and wet. The combination of sensations overwhelmed her; she could not tease out the pleasure from the pain. It all just felt so perfect, like this was what her body was built for, for him. Her hips bucked as a wave of pleasure hit her. “Ahh, Torres,” she moaned. She was almost there. She could almost see the edge through the red haze of desire.
But then he stopped. He raised his head again to her mouth. “I missed you,” he said again. “I missed the way you taste.” And then to show her he lowered his mouth to hers. She opened to him, tasting her salty taste on his mouth, smelling the intimate musk on his beard. She moaned again. The intimacy pushed her higher; she had never tasted herself.
“Please, Torres,” she begged. She fumbled as she tried to pull down his jeans. He shifted his hips so he could pull down his pants. With one powerful stroke he was inside her, stretching her, filling her. She felt so complete.
For a moment he didn’t move as they languished in the connection. He kissed her neck as he pulled out and then thrust back into her. She moaned again. She was so close. She clawed at him, pulling him deeper into her. It felt so good.
Her body tensed around him, like a guitar string pulled taut, ready to be played. He pulled back to look at her. “Ya casi ha terminado. Sigue adelante.” You’re almost there. Keep going.
He thrust into her again and her body exploded around him, sensation firing through her. Her body shook with the pleasure. “Torres,” she moaned as wave after wave of pleasure hit her.
She was done. Her body was too sensitive, every feeling too intense. It hurt to be touched, but he kept going, pounding into her. There was no escape from the intimate invasion, but even with the pain her body opened to him, taking every punishing stroke.
Her body tensed again as another orgasm tore through her, taking her breath away. Torres groaned and she was filled with the hot proof of his release.
Torres collapsed onto her, still hard inside her.
“I missed you,” he said again before he kissed her temple.
“I missed you too, Torres.”
He rolled over, bringing her with him. “We can’t leave it this long. I need to see you again.”<
br />
“Why aren’t you in Nuevo Laredo?”
Torres smiled. “Because I missed you. I thought we covered that.”
Beth smiled back at him. “You are supposed to be crossing the World Trade Bridge tonight at midnight.”
“I will be. But first I am going to have dinner with my favourite Gringa.” He kissed her again.
“Jessop will kill me.” Beth shook her head. She had just gotten back in the good books.
Torres lifted up her hands and kissed her index finger. “He knows I’m here. Who do you think arranged for Alejandra to be at the zoo?”
Beth’s eyes widened. “Jessop knows about us?”
Torres nodded. “He didn’t leave me much choice when he started being an ass hat about Culiacan. I explained very clearly that if you were out, I would walk.”
Beth’s heart skipped a beat. “You did? You did that for me?” Oh God she was going to cry. Why did she have to be such a girl?
Torres shrugged. “It was an idle threat. We both knew he couldn’t let me walk. I had him by the balls on that one. It’s a great bargaining position. I told him to stop dicking you around. Has he?”
Beth nodded. She squeezed her lids together to keep from crying. “Thank you, Torres.” Despite her best efforts her voice cracked.
“It’s not a big deal. He was being an ass. I merely pointed it out.”
Beth nodded again. If he kept talking she would be blubbering. She loved him. Oh God she loved him.
Shit, she wasn’t supposed to love him. She squeezed her lids together tighter but she couldn’t stop the tears.
Torres gently brushed a tear from her cheek. “It doesn’t say much about my skills as a lover if you cry every time we have sex.”
Beth laughed. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a woman thing.” She laid her head on his chest and listened to the strong thud of his heart.
He stroked her hair. “Try me.”
Beth shook her head. “I don’t even understand.”
“Oh…I see.” Torres said.
She smiled against his chest.
“I’m starving. Let’s go have some dinner before I have to drive back.”
Beth sat up. “All we have is Cheerios. I don’t even have milk.”
Torres gently kissed her forehead before he got up and pulled his jeans back on. “Sounds delicious but I brought stuff to make dinner.”
“Mmm, what are we having?”
“Meatloaf and mushroom gravy. I can’t say it sounds very appealing. But my favourite Gringa says it is her favourite so that’s what we’re having.”
Torres tossed Beth her T shirt.
“Do you have a recipe or did you guess at the ingredients?”
“Gatita, I’ve got mad recon skills. I asked Jessop your mum’s name. I looked her up and called her. She also said you can’t resist mint chip ice cream. Which reminds me. I should have put that in the freezer.”
“You called my mom?” Beth asked. She hoped he called in the morning so they had a coherent conversation. She was glad her mom had at least heard his voice. She had a feeling she would be crying about him to her mom in the not so distant future. Even that knowledge couldn’t stop her loving him. She was as bad as her mom on the loving unsuitable men front.
“I told you, mad recon skills.”
Beth shook her head. “Calling my mom isn’t really recon.”
Torres tossed her her jeans “Woman, do you want the ice cream or not?”
Beth lifted her hips and slid on her pants and followed Torres downstairs. Luckily the ice cream hadn’t melted completely. She put it in the freezer for later. She turned to find Torres chopping mushrooms. He was reading from a sheet from a yellow legal pad.
Yep, she loved Torres. God help her. She finally understood what her mom was talking about, that irrational love that you know isn’t good for you.
Torres put together the meatloaf and stuck it in the oven before going to the sink to wash his hands. “How long has the faucet been leaking?” he asked as he dried his hands on the back of his jeans.
“Since I moved in. One of the agents on my detail tried to fix it but he made it worse.” Beth pointed to the tools lying on the counter.
Torres picked up the wrench and went to work. Beth watched in amazement as he dismantled the pipe and reconnected it. He turned on the water again, let it run for a few seconds and then turned it off again.
Beth shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you could fix it.”
Half of Torres’ mouth raised in his signature half smile. “It wasn’t that hard. Alejandra could have done it.”
“Glad to see your smirking side is better.”
Torres laughed.
They set the table. Torres opened a bottle of wine and poured her a glass. “Why don’t you drink?” she asked him.
“You’re not the only one who likes to be in control.”
“You would still be in control after one glass of wine.”
“I would rather not find out,” he said curtly. “Sorry,” he said realising his harsh tone. “I made a choice as a kid to never drink. I saw what it did to my dad and my brothers. I didn’t want that.”
“Carlos and Jose, right?” Beth asked. She had their names in her files somewhere, along with their prison records and death certificates.
“Go on, Gatita. I know you want to ask me about them.”
She smiled. “I do but I also know you don’t want to talk about it.”
Torres sat down on the couch beside her. “I don’t want to keep anything from you. They were both Zetas as I am sure you know. Both of them were killed in drive-by shootings, six months apart. I was in Iraq.”
Beth nodded. “But you never got involved with the Zetas?” Before she recruited him, she meant. Torres was the perfect recruit, his record was clean, he had a sterling military career and yet no one would have thought twice about him joining the Zetas. He looked the part in every way. Landing him had been the highlight of her career. It had secured her position at the head of the task force.
“Nope. Just like the drinking, I didn’t need to experience it myself to know it was stupid. Besides, my mom deserves one law-abiding child.”
Realisation spread over her. “That is why you held out at first, when I came to your house. When I asked you to join the DEA?”
Torres nodded.
“Because of your mom. You didn’t want her to think you had joined a gang too.”
Torres let out a long stream of air. “I haven’t seen her in two years. When she found out I was a Zeta she cried and said I was as good as dead. It was only time…and she couldn’t watch me die a bit at a time. The first thing I am going to do when we find El Escorpion is go to see my mom. I need to make it right.”
Beth laid her hand on Torres’ arm. “I’m sorry.” She wished she could tell him to go and see his mom, but she couldn’t, not yet.
“Beth, if something happens to me, I want you to explain it to my mom. I want it to be you. I don’t want it to come from anybody else. And I want her to meet you anyway.”
A lump formed in Beth’s throat. No matter how hard she swallowed she could not shift it. She wanted to tell him that it would never come to that but they both knew it was a very real possibility.
Torres stood up. “Come on, Gatita. There is gravy to be made. I’m still not convinced, but never let it be said that I won’t try things.”
Beth followed him through to the kitchen and watched him sauté onions and mushrooms. He added some of the red wine he had brought and covered it to let it thicken.
Beth plated up the meatloaf and mashed potatoes and covered the entire plate with gravy. Just how she remembered it.
“So what do you think?” she asked after Torres had had a chance to try it.
“Pretty good for Gringa food.”
Beth smiled as she took a bite. It tasted exactly like she remembered. “Mmm, can you see why this is my favourite?”
“It’s only your favourite because y
ou haven’t had my mom’s tamales. Once this is over, we’re going to my mom’s for some proper food.”
Beth’s heart skipped a beat. He was talking about them in the future. She told herself not to get excited. People say ‘come by anytime’ but it is not an invitation until somebody pulls out their calendar and starts pencilling in dates. “Yeah that would be nice. I love tamales.”
“The bean and jalapeño ones are the best.”
Beth turned away so he couldn’t see her face.
“What’s wrong, Gatita?”
Beth shook her head. “I’m scared.”
“Why?”
“The future.” Beth shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know what is going to happen.”
“Nobody does. That’s part of the fun.”
“I don’t think it’s fun. I don’t like it.”
“Would knowing the end help you enjoy all the parts in between better? Isn’t it better not knowing what’s coming so you can live in the moment and enjoy everything as it comes?”
Beth shook her head. “I can’t enjoy the parts in between if I don’t know when it’s all going to be over.”
Torres leaned over and kissed her temple. “It ends the same for all of us, one last breath and then we meet our maker. Let yourself enjoy the parts in between. There is a lot of joy out there, Beth, if you let yourself have it.”
“How can you still believe that? After everything you have seen?”
Torres took a deep breath. “I met you. You reminded me that there is good in the world. The night in the hotel, I should have taken you home but with you around I saw…” Torres shrugged. “And in Culiacan when you took Alejandra from the car, I wanted to strangle you but I admired you, screaming and swearing and all. I looked at you and I thought ‘that is a good woman: a crazy woman but a good woman’. You make be remember there is good in the world.”
Beth started to cry.
“Damn it. I did it again,” Torres muttered. “Please, don’t cry, Gatita.”
Beth wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I told you I just fake being a good person.”
Blurring the Line Page 20
