I pulled off the peels, cutting the plantain into diagonal slices, placing them into a bowl. I poured canola oil into one pan and butter into the next. I cracked three eggs into a glass and two more into the smaller pan.
I grabbed a fork, mixing the eggs in my glass. Light footsteps padded down the stairs and I tried to keep my eyes trained on the bubbling oil but I had no control when Annie was in sight. I lifted my head, seeking her out. She walked toward the kitchen in her normal pair of jeans and an oversized white sweater, her hair wet from her morning shower. The skin of her shoulder peeked out as well as the beige strap of her bra.
I tore my eyes away as she walked past me, heading for the fridge, not uttering a single word. She poured a glass of orange juice before sitting down at the bar across from me. “What kind of eggs do you want?” I asked her as I poured the plantains into the skillet of oil.
She sat up on the stool, folding her knees under her and leaned over to watch me. A smile tugged at my lips. Her eyes were just as traitorous as mine. “Scrambled.” I nodded, taking a spatula and skipping the eggs in the pan. “But I’m more interested in that.”
I looked up to find her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, looking at the now brown plantains. “Fried bananas?” she asked curiously.
“Close. Maduros.”
I watched her closely, blindly flipping the plantains. Her teeth released her lip and a small smile let loose on her lips the second I rolled my tongue to say the word. She squirmed in her seat and I had to muffle my laugh behind a gulp of milk.
“Like I know what that means,” she muttered. Maybe I hadn’t been successful enough in hiding my amusement.
“Fried plantains, bonita. They’re sweet. You’ll like them.”
She hummed behind her orange juice. “Do they go good with eggs?”
I hitched a shoulder. “They’re good with anything. It would be better with ham, but I didn’t get any at the store.”
She was quiet for a moment, watching me cook while I stole glances her way. I didn’t even try to be discrete; I knew she felt it every time my eyes flicked in her direction. After a few minutes, I piled her eggs onto a plate and the maduros on another one. Pouring a dusting of powdered sugar over the fried plantains, I carried both plates to the table and sat down, waiting for Annie to follow.
While she ate her eggs in small bites, I swallowed the three I put in a glass earlier. I divided the maduros up, placing them on two smaller plates, pushing one toward Annie. “Try it, bonita.”
She picked a piece up with delicate fingers. My eyes didn’t leave her once as she took a small bite of it, her eyes automatically closing, a sound too close to a moan for my liking escaping her lips. She opened her eyes, the color of her irises a darker blue than I’d ever noticed before.
My heart thrashed against my chest. My thoughts spiraling in one direction. If I had that tiny body of hers pinned underneath me, would those blues turn just as dark? Fuck, could I make them shine even darker?
I shoveled a few of the maduros in my mouth, leaving some of mine for her, knowing she’d want them. “I’m gonna take a quick shower before I drive you into the city,” I announced, not making eye contact with her. I picked up our plates, all except the one she was eating from, and headed for the kitchen, trying to hide any proof that she affected me.
Her hand shot out, latching onto my wrist. I looked down at her in question. Her other hand covered her mouth. I waited as she swallowed her food, angling my wrist, hoping she’d get the hint to drop it. She didn’t. “I don’t have work today.”
“Okay. Do you need me to take you anywhere else?”
“No, but can you spot me?”
I looked at her dumbly because she didn’t just ask that of me. I knew she didn’t. “What?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You just said you’re going in the gym. Can you spot me while I lift or do you have somewhere else you need to be?”
I didn’t need to be anywhere for the next couple of hours. But I sure as fuck did not want to work out with her. I wasn’t a goddamn saint.
“Yeah. Whenever you’re ready.”
I ripped my wrist from her and headed into the kitchen. I turned the water on and grabbed the dish soap from the cupboard. Annie slid next to me a few moments later, slipping her plate and our empty cups into the sink, before grabbing the dishtowel I had slung over my shoulders and began drying the dishes and moving around me to put them away.
We worked together perfectly in comfortable silence. Once everything was cleaned and put away, she grabbed two bottles from the cupboard and filled them with ice. “Do you want water or something else?”
“I’ll take water.” She handed me the chilled water and I had no choice but to follow her into the gym. She hopped on the treadmill and I headed for the bench press. I slug two fifty-pound weights on each side of the bar. I hadn’t lifted that little in years, but then again, I never let myself get distracted in the gym. All of that went out of the window knowing Annie occupied the room. I laid down against the cool leather, the bare skin of my back welcoming the chill. As soon as I gripped the bar steadily, I closed my eyes and started to lift.
The only way I could focus in a room that had Annie in it was to eliminate my sight. I lifted rep after rep, counting up to two hundred before losing count. The weight stilled at the top and my eyes flashed open. Annie’s hands curled around the weight, halting me from completing a rep. “My turn.”
She backed up and I placed the bar back home. “How much weight do you want?” I asked, standing and wiping off the bench.
She scrunched her nose up and I fought the urge to kiss it back to its normal state. “I haven’t lifted in a few weeks. Maybe just forty pounds for now.” I nodded, taking the weights off and adding a twenty-pound weight on each side. I motioned forward for her to get in position. She sat on the bench and I took her place behind the bar.
She grabbed the ends of her sweater and ripped it off, leaving her in only her bra and jeans. She fucking wanted me dead. A knife didn’t work, the first or the second time she wielded one against me. So, she succumbed to this: murder by sexual tension.
She laid down as if everything was normal. As if she didn’t expose her creamy, smooth skin to me. As if the swell of her breasts didn’t cause my mouth to water and my dick to salute her. I blinked down at her, not making any move to help her lift the bar.
Her eyes flicked from my face down to my bare chest, her eyebrows raising as if to say, “Fair game.” As soon as this gym session came to an end, not only would I be throwing a shirt over my head but I would be getting the fuck out of here. A few day’s trip to Mexico might be just what I needed. Nolan could more than handle all of my business meetings, escorting Annie to and from work, keeping an eye on Cameron, and taking care of any situations that should arise in my absence.
I helped her guide the bar down to her chest and I kept my hands hovering over the bar for her first few reps. I kept my eyes glued to her face, to the puffs of air escaping her lips on each exhale.
“You okay, bonita?”
“Mmhmm,” she managed through gritted teeth.
I moved my hands and her eyes shot to me in alarm. I reached for her elbow, moving it a few inches wider. I did the same with the other. “That better?”
She nodded. She started counting her reps and I started counting the seconds until I could get the hell away from her. She quit a while later, reaching a hundred reps. She wiped down the bench as my eyes stuck on the sweater discarded on the floor. Any minute she would bend down and retrieve it and I would be able to breathe again.
Except she didn’t. She laid her hand on my arm until I raised my gaze to meet hers. My eyes didn’t miss an inch of her body. The top of her jeans resting just below her belly button. The skin at her waist playing hide and seek. Her toned stomach called to my fidgeting fingers. All I wanted to do was to reach out, trace her smooth skin until goosebumps broke out. Her breasts, rising and falling with each breath she took was a
picture I’d never have to see again to forget. Her soft pink lips, delicate nose, and eyes that took my breath away could kill a man.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
She should be sorry. Wait. I frowned at her, knowing damn well she wasn’t sorry for giving me a taste of my own topless medicine. “What for?”
“For shutting down on you last night. I could have handled it better.”
With her soft admission, I forgot about her lack of shirt. I forgot that this six months wasn’t about anyone but her. I forgot that we had an expiration date. I lifted my hand to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s okay, bonita. I can handle you.”
All of the softness disappeared from her face as she slapped my hand away and all but growled at me. “Just barely, Hector. Just barely.”
I chuckled, walking away from her, knowing damn well she was right.
* * *
The sound of the front door slamming had me flopping back on the bench, a pressure on my chest immediately inflating. I shut my eyes, allowing the coolness of the bench to soothe the heat I felt vibrating through my body.
Hector’s eyes on me made me feel a lot of things. At first, uneasiness. I wasn’t used to someone looking at me so much, so intently. But every day since the night we met, I’d grown accustomed to his focus. Despite my mind blaring off warnings faster than a machine gun, I wanted his eyes on me. I craved the way his gaze brought my skin to life.
And for the two weeks I’ve been living with him, he trotted around the house shirtless. Sometimes, in just a towel. The man had no modesty or respect for how the image of all of him did to a girl. So, today, I decided to return the favor.
After my shower, I picked out my best bra and sweater and came downstairs to handle business. And it backfired. Big time. The look in his eyes made it almost impossible not to reach up, take his face in my hands, bringing him down to my level, and kiss him until we were both left breathless.
I didn’t do that, though I really, really wanted to.
I laid there on the mat, knowing Hector I-didn’t-even-know-his-last-name already broke me. I wasn’t the same Annie I was when he dragged my unconscious body in this house two weeks ago. It almost frightened me to think about the Annie he would turn me into by the end of our time together.
I leaped up, a resolve setting in my bones. It didn’t matter who I would become in a little bit over five months. It didn’t even matter what happened between the two of us, if we succumbed to the attraction at the end of this agreement or not. The only thing that mattered was Cameron being six feet under by the power of my two hands. With that thought, adrenaline spiked through my veins. I walked up to the punching bag, wrapped my hands in tape and I gave it my all. I delivered hits and jabs to the punching bag, getting lost in the feeling of the power it gave me.
I tried to wait for him but it was well past eight o’clock, the normal time he’d come home when he didn’t have to pick me up from work. My stomach ached from not eating since this morning, the sounds it was making were downright embarrassing. I gave up and searched in the kitchen for something to eat. I grabbed the gallon of milk and a bag of cereal Hector bought for me when the door clicked open. Hector came bursting into the kitchen with bags in his hands.
“What are you doing?” he asked before I could offer my help.
“I was just about to eat.”
He shook his head firmly, spotting the contents of my dinner. “No. I brought some food. I would’ve been home earlier but my meeting ran late. Come eat with me.”
I helped him with the couple of paper bags, taking the to-go containers out and placing them on the table. He shook his head. “We’ll eat in the living room tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t seen him in that room once. He split his time at home between the kitchen and the gym, other than at night when he laid next to me while I slept. I had a sinking feeling that he never fell asleep at night; he only waited long enough for me to.
I followed him into the living room and he turned on the overhead chandelier, brightening the room.
I almost dropped the containers in my hand when I noticed a man sitting on the edge of the couch.
“Annie,” Hector said, taking the food away from me.
The man stood and smiled sheepishly at me. He was gorgeous. A few inches shorter than Hector and a lot leaner. His hair was jet black, disheveled on top of his head and his skin was a pale ivory color. I looked into his light green eyes and he flinched, his eyes escaping mine before I could blink.
“This is Nolan. He’s family. I figured it was time for you two to meet. In case I’m tied up with work, he’s the only one I trust you to get in a car with.”
I nodded dumbly and looked at Nolan again. He still stood facing me but his eyes were on the floor and I could see his hands turning into fists underneath the pockets of his black denim jeans.
“Come, bonita. I have something new for you to try.”
I stepped past Nolan and claimed the spot next to Hector. “It’s playoff season,” he explained. “If you want to wait, I can heat this up at halftime and eat with you at the table if you prefer.”
Fuck. How was this man single? “I can eat in here but what am I eating?”
He handed me a fork, a spoon, and a takeout container that fit perfectly in my lap. I opened the container slowly, almost afraid of what I would find.
This was the first night Hector hadn’t cooked dinner himself. He cooked everything in seasoning with his heritage in mind. Some things he cooked I’d never even heard of and some I did. All of the dishes he’s made me so far have assaulted my taste buds in the most delicious way.
Hector nudged me with his elbow and I looked over at him.
He wore a crooked grin. “It’s not Deal or No Deal. It’s just food.”
I rolled my eyes and finally lifted the lid. Of course, it looked amazing. “What is it?” I asked again, already unwrapping the silverware.
“Cilantro lime chicken and rice.”
My mouth watered and only half of the reason could be blamed on the smell of the chicken and my empty stomach. The way the man spoke, even just a word, a simple roll of the tongue was enough to leave me fidgeting in my seat.
“It smells incredible,” I murmured, capturing my first bite with my fork.
Hector’s eyes flickered above my head. “While you’re in there, grab me a beer.” He paused looking to me and I nodded my head for one, too. “Two, actually.” His gaze returned to me. “Take a bite.”
I chewed on my lip and held his eyes. He must have read the question regarding Nolan in my eyes because his hand came down over my thigh and squeezed. “Later,” he whispered.
I nodded and tasted my first bite of chicken. My head fell back against the couch at the first taste. Damn it. It was amazing. I savored it before going back for more.
“Good?” Hector wondered.
I nodded, needing my mouth for other things at the moment. I got lost in my dinner, forgetting Hector in the moment. When my fork met nothing but Styrofoam, I looked around me. Hector and Nolan sat in identical positions on either side of me. Both of them sat on the edge of the couch, legs playing seesaw with the carpet beneath their feet. Hector’s hands were folded in between his legs while Nolan’s held his chin, both of their eyes glued to the TV.
“What is happening?” I wondered aloud, positive I would be ignored.
Hector’s head snapped in my direction. He took the container from me and set it on the coffee table. “Basketball playoffs. Do you want some churros?”
I should’ve said no. The button of my jeans pleaded with me to say no. “Yes.”
He handed me a smaller container and the bottle of beer I’d barely touched. “You don’t have to stay down here if you don’t want to. I’ll be up when this is over,” he whispered, leaning in way too close to steal one of my churros.
My heart thudded at his closeness and I shrugged to avoid allowing my voice to embarrass me.
For the first time all night, Nolan spoke up. “You still got your money on Boston?”
I raised an eyebrow at Hector and turned my attention to the TV. Two teams. One in white and green jerseys and the other in red and blue. The score box at the bottom of the screen showed Boston down by fourteen points.
“Yeah. I talked to Lily earlier and she was a blushing mess. The only time Knight plays like shit is when something is wrong with her.”
Nolan grunted and I slid my eyes in his direction. His voice was soft and strong at the same time and it perfectly suited him. I wondered how he and Hector met. Hector referred to him as family but based on looks alone, I knew Nolan wasn’t the biological kind.
Nolan’s head turned slowly, as if he felt my eyes on him. His green eyes were guarded but he offered me the smallest tilt of his lips before returning his attention back to the game.
I placed my empty container and beer on the coffee table before trying to grasp the concept of the game. I watched possession after possession of ten men running back and forth across the court. Boston closed the scoring gap with just a few minutes left. I fell asleep to a Boston player with the number fifteen across his back shooting a pair of free throws.
I jolted awake when I felt movement. I blinked my eyes open, trying to make something out of the darkness. As if he felt me stir, Hector’s arms, already surrounding me, tightened. “I got you, bonita,” he whispered. A moment later, he carefully set me down on the bed, quickly covering me with my usual blanket.
My eyes followed him across the room until he settled in beside me. I turned my body, tucking my knees into my chest. He didn’t look at me; he never did. With his eyes closed, he rested one arm over his stomach and the other one across his face, in hopes I didn’t see his cheek twitching from the focus of my stare. It never did.
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