Off the Rails

by Jill Sorenson

  Sarai had been sedated as well. She’d been uncooperative, even combative, the entire afternoon. She’d refused to leave Hugo’s side in the emergency room. They were interviewed by U.S. customs officers, but Sarai wouldn’t answer their questions. When they took Hugo to the operating room, she’d demanded to go with him. Now she was asleep in the hospital bed on the other side of the curtain. It was against procedure for a girl to stay in a boy’s room, but the nurses let her be. She’d just lost her father. They felt sorry for her.

  So did Maria.

  One of the nurses appeared in the doorway. “Visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow morning.”

  Maria nodded her understanding. Before she left, she tucked a blanket around Hugo and kissed his cheek. He looked so much like their father. She couldn’t believe this was the same little brother she’d said goodbye to four years ago.

  She walked down the hall, unsure where to go. The cafeteria was still open, and she was hungry, so she stood in line for a hot meal. She felt self-conscious about her tangled hair and dirty clothes. There was grit underneath her fingernails. She wanted to shower, but she couldn’t afford to pay for a hotel room. Maybe she could sit in the lobby all night. She was about to grab a tray when someone cut in front of her.

  Ian.

  He looked frantic, as if he’d been searching everywhere for her. He had a bandage on his eyebrow. He was as dirty as she was, if not dirtier. And so handsome that tears flooded her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, smothering a sob.

  “I thought I’d missed you,” he said.

  “I’m still here.”

  He hugged her close while the other people in line moved around them. Then her stomach growled, and he let go. “I’m starving.”

  “Me too.”

  They picked up trays and filled them high. There was arroz con pollo, mixed vegetables, warm tortillas, and vanilla pudding. While they ate the bland food, she gave him an update on Hugo and Sarai. He told her about his job offer with ICE.

  “What kind of work will you do?” she asked, finishing her dessert.

  “Police work. Investigations.”

  “In San Diego?”

  “The main office is in San Diego. I’ll go wherever they send me. Most agents are placed on two-year international assignments.”

  She put down her spoon. She supposed it didn’t matter where he went. She couldn’t visit him in San Diego. But the idea of him traveling around the world while she was stuck in Mezcala made her chest ache with envy.

  “If I could bring you with me, I would.”

  “Don’t,” she said, pushing her tray away.

  “Don’t what?”

  “I don’t want to cry. Not tonight.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  She just stared at him, unable to voice her desires.

  His eyes darkened as if he could read her mind. “There’s a hotel down the street.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They walked there, hand in hand. He stopped at the convenience store along the way. Although they both needed clean clothes, she didn’t feel like shopping. He paid for a room with cash, his gaze burning into her. She thought he might fall on her the instant they came through the door. He didn’t. He just stood there, breathing heavily.

  “I could use a shower,” he said.

  She nodded, nibbling her lower lip. “I’ll go next.”

  He was in and out in less than five minutes. She almost swooned at the sight of him with a towel wrapped around his waist. There was something about his rock-hard torso and steamy-hot skin that sent her hormones into overdrive. She walked by him, bumping into the door on the way in. He noticed this and didn’t even smile.

  Dios mío. What a man.

  She knew he’d want to explore every inch of her body, so she got really clean. She used a razor on her armpits, shampooed her hair, and washed between her legs. She brushed her teeth with his toothbrush. When she came out of the bathroom, he was standing in front of the dresser, shaving. He’d filled the ice bucket with warm water. He smoothed the blade over his jaw and swished it around in the soapy water.

  She watched him with a languid half smile. It should hurt to be so in love. Instead it felt good, and sort of illicit, like an illegal drug.

  He grabbed a towel to wipe his face. “Should I shave my mustache?”

  “No. I like it.”

  “You do?”

  She came up behind him and pressed her lips against his bare shoulder. She did like his mustache, maybe because it framed his beautiful mouth. He had a strong chin and a chiseled jawline. Even the blade of his nose was handsome.

  He turned around, feasting his eyes on her. She was wearing nothing but a towel, like him. He slid his hands under the damp fabric and gripped her hips. She shivered at the feel of his callused fingertips on her skin. When he bent his head to kiss her, she twined her arms around his neck and lifted her lips to his. This was what she wanted.

  Just this.

  No talking. No crying. No well-meant proposals or romantic declarations. Her heart couldn’t take any more stress. She didn’t want to think about what had happened to Armando this afternoon, or where Ian would go tomorrow. They couldn’t make plans for the future. She didn’t need a ring or promises or tender words. She just needed him to make love to her—all night long.

  He filled his hands with her bare bottom and buried his tongue in her mouth. She moaned, parting her lips for his kiss. She couldn’t get enough of him. His taste, his heat, his probing tongue. His mouth was like magic. So were his big hands. She wanted them all over her body. Her towel fell away, exposing her completely.

  He examined her sleek curves as if it was the first time he’d seen them. She didn’t try to hide herself from his gaze. Her nipples pebbled into fine points, drawing his attention. He moistened his lips in appreciation. He seemed to like the flare of her hips and the dark triangle between her thighs. His erection jutted at the front of his towel, large and stiff. With a strangled growl, he lifted her atop the dresser and kissed her again. He parted her thighs with his hands as his tongue delved deep into her mouth. She clung to his shoulders, already lost. When he lowered his mouth to her breasts, she arched her spine in invitation.

  “Yes,” she gasped. His tongue swirled over one taut nipple, and then the other. “God yes.”

  He sucked harder, worrying her flesh with his teeth. She squirmed on top of the dresser, amazed by her instant arousal. Her body was on fire. Liquid heat throbbed between her thighs. She spread her legs wider, eager for his touch.

  He hadn’t smiled at her clumsiness before. He smiled now, enjoying her shameless response. “You want my mouth on you?”

  She flushed at the question.

  He trailed two fingers along her inner thigh. “Do you?”

  She nodded, quivering with anticipation.

  He sank to his knees before her. “Where?”

  She groaned.

  “Show me.”

  She smoothed her hand down her belly and traced her sex with her fingertips. She was moist and swollen, aching for him. His breath caught in his throat, so she went a step further and slid one finger inside. He watched her as if mesmerized. When she removed her finger, he sucked it hotly. Then he replaced her finger with two of his own, thrusting in and out. At the same time, he flicked his tongue over the tight bud at the top of her sex. She couldn’t believe how good it felt. She started mewling and riding his hand, straining toward completion.

  “Acábame,” she panted.

  He licked and sucked at her sensitive flesh until she exploded against his mouth. He gentled her with a soft kiss as her tremors subsided.

  “That was fast,” she said, pushing the damp hair off her forehead.

  He smirked in satisfaction and rose to his feet. His towel had slipped off while he’d been busy. He wrapped a hand around his erection, which was straining toward her, ruddy and stiff. “I’ll make you come slower the next time, if you prefer.”

  �
�I want to do everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t know if they’d get another chance to be together, but she knew she’d never feel this way again. He was the only man for her. One night was all they had. She wanted to make the most of it. She wanted the memory to last a lifetime.

  “We can’t do every sex act in one night.”

  “How many can we do?”

  He gave himself a slow stroke while she watched. “I’m good for a few rounds, I guess. What would you like to try?”

  “I want my mouth on you.”

  He groaned. “Okay.”

  “I want the pounding too.”

  “All right.”

  She smiled at his easy agreement. “Can we do every position?”

  “Not without killing me.”

  “Which is your favorite?”

  He hesitated, but only for a moment. “From behind.”

  Her breath quickened at the mental image. “Not face to face?”

  “I like face to face,” he said, cupping her cheek. He rubbed his thumb over her parted lips. “I like any position with you. Me on top, you on top. In the shower. Against the wall.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes to what?”

  “All of those.”

  He kissed her again, slowly. His tongue touched hers and retreated. She framed his face with both hands and kissed the edge of his mouth, the soft bristles on his upper lip, his smooth jawline. She licked the side of his neck, where a pulse throbbed. Then she wrapped her hand around his erection. It felt hot and alive in her palm. She squeezed the shaft, stroking him up and down. His brow furrowed, as if the pleasure hurt.

  She slid off the dresser and dropped to her knees. “I’ve never done this before,” she said, moistening her lips.

  “There’s not much to it.”

  “Do I kiss it, or just suck?”

  He threaded his fingers through her hair. “Anything but biting.”

  She grasped the base of his shaft and angled him toward her mouth. She’d never seen a penis this close before. There was a bead of fluid at the tip. She touched her tongue to him, tasting salt. He trembled at this brief contact. She wanted to rain kisses all over his hot skin and cradle him to her breasts, but she was afraid of doing it wrong. So she cut to the chase and closed her mouth around him, sucking gently. He seemed pretty excited about her technique. His low moan of encouragement helped her relax. She moved her mouth up and down, taking him deeper.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across from the bed. He was standing so that she could see her reflection. Her eyes were half-lidded, mouth stretched wide around him. His hand moved to her face, thumb brushing her cheek.

  It looked sexier than she’d imagined. She looked sexy on her knees. He was vibrating with tension, buttocks taut. Heat throbbed between her legs and her nipples tightened at the sight.

  He followed her gaze to the mirror and groaned. Instead of continuing to use her mouth, he uncurled her hand from his shaft and withdrew from her parted lips. She glanced up at him in disappointment. She was just getting started.

  “You didn’t like it?”

  He let out a pained laugh and lifted her to her feet. “I loved it,” he said, kissing her with relish. “I was about to come in your mouth.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “No. It’s one of my favorite things, actually. But if you want to try lots of positions, we have to pace ourselves.”

  She did want to try lots of positions, so she didn’t argue. He sat down on the bed and reached for a condom on the nightstand. While she watched, he rolled it down his shaft, then pulled her toward him. “Climb on,” he said, lying back.

  She felt shy again as she straddled him. Maybe because the moment of penetration was fraught with uncertainty. She knew he could give her pleasure when he was on top. She didn’t know if she could do the same for him.

  He positioned the tip of his erection against her opening. “Just slide down on my cock,” he said, holding still.

  She braced her hands on his shoulders and lowered herself on him, just a little.

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Take it all, if you can.”

  That sounded like a challenge. He didn’t think she could handle the whole thing? She’d done it before. Surely she could do it again. She sank lower, and lower, her slick heat enveloping him. He felt bigger this way, fuller inside her, but she was determined to get the job done. When she was completely seated, she gave him a triumphant look. He was staring at the place where their bodies joined. Sweat dotted his brow.

  “Now what?” she prompted.

  “Now ride me.”

  She moved up and down slowly, mimicking the motion of her mouth earlier. His gaze moved from her slippery sex to her breasts, which jiggled slightly. His hands traced the curves of her hips and spanned her slender waist. Then he pinched her nipples. The sharp sensation made her gasp. She felt a rush of moisture between her legs.

  He toyed with her nipples, biting and sucking them. Then he licked his thumb and placed it over her sensitive spot. She rode him faster, straining toward release. The combination of his deep penetration and deft touch was delicious. She felt hot and swollen and ready to come.

  “Fuck,” he panted, rubbing her in circles.

  That was all it took to send her over the edge. She sank down to the hilt, her hips bucking wildly as she climaxed.

  “Fuck,” he said again. “You’re so fucking wet, I’m losing my mind.”

  She was still seeing stars when he rolled on top of her. He gave her the pounding she’d asked for. He drove his body into hers over and over, rocking the bed frame against the wall. She clung to his strong shoulders, thrilled by the hard ride. On his last thrust, he buried himself inside her and let out a hoarse cry.

  After a minute or two, he climbed off her and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he gathered her into his arms, kissing her damp forehead. She embraced him drowsily.

  “I wanted to make it last longer,” he said.

  She smiled against his chest, not disappointed in the least.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” she said, looking up at him. “You are very good.”

  He arched a brow. “Am I?”

  “Do all men know these tricks?”

  “What tricks?”

  She licked her thumb and rubbed it in the air.

  He shrugged, as if that was no big deal. “They should, but enthusiasm matters more than experience. Chemistry matters. Feelings matter.”

  Feelings. Her stomach fluttered with apprehension.

  He cupped her chin to hold her gaze. “I’m in love with you, Maria.”

  “Stop,” she said, pushing his hand away.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  She rose from the bed and wrapped a sheet around her body. “I believe you. It just hurts to want something you can’t have.”

  “You could marry me.”

  “Not that again.”

  “Why not?”

  “Are you serious? You think you can marry me and work in immigration enforcement? That’s like a judge marrying a criminal he locked up.”

  “You could wait for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He stood with her, gripping her upper arms. “Wait for me to finish my assignment. Two years isn’t forever. After that I can request a placement at the border, or somewhere close. I won’t forget you. These feelings aren’t going away. I’ll do whatever it takes to get back to you.”

  She shook her head in denial.

  “Why?”

  “I waited for my father to return. He never did.”

  “I’m not him.”

  “You’re not me, either. You don’t know how it feels to wait for someone. You are…impulsive.”

  “Impulsive,” he said in a flat voice, releasing her arms.

  “You are a strong, physical person. You take actio
n. This is what makes you a good police officer, and good in bed. But you don’t think about the future.”

  “Fuck the future. We belong together.”

  “Now you really sound like an American.”

  “Don’t insult me.”

  She raked a hand through her hair, frustrated. “You can’t have everything you want!”

  “So I should give up? You expect me to walk away from this relationship because the future is uncertain and waiting is hard?”

  “There is no relationship,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “Oh, I see. I’ve been celibate for four years, and I’ve asked you to marry me twice, but we don’t have a relationship. I’m just a convenient vehicle for you to use to catch up with your brother. I’m physical and impulsive and down to fuck. I’ll jump whenever you say acábame.”

  She frowned in confusion. When he was angry, he spoke too fast for her to catch every word. “What is celibate?”

  “It means I haven’t slept with anyone.”

  “In four years?”

  “In four years. How’s that for impulsive?”

  She sank to the edge of the bed, her knees weak. She pictured Armando’s lifeless body. Sarai’s tortured face. Hugo’s broken arm. She pictured the decorations for the homecoming party her father had never come home to.

  Love was pain.

  Then she thought about Adam and Kari. Love hadn’t been a picnic for them, either. But it was passionate and it was pure. They looked at each other as if no one else mattered, and nothing could ever come between them.

  That was the way Ian looked at Maria. It was the same way she looked at him.

  “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered.

  He sat down beside her. “What?”

  “Yo también te amo,” she said, louder.

  His eyes got watery. They reminded her of the river after it rained. “Since when?”

  “Since we met.”

  He took a deep breath, processing this news. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I, but it’s true.”

  “What should we do?”

  She twined her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. “Tonight? We should make up for lost time.”