Sombra Page 10

  This isn’t going to work. I chicken out. Dammit. Sorry to bug you. I’ll message you later.

  K.

  Bye, Yoko!!!

  I close out my computer, disappointed, and drum my fingers on the desk. I’m supposed to spend the day with Tavo in Granada. Will I still feel the same way I did in the car with him? That aroused? That turned on?

  Oh, the hell with it. I’m pretty good at taking care of this part of me.

  I lie back in bed, drowsy. My fingers creep into my underwear. I feel my flesh. My wetness. My throbbing. I give myself over to the pleasure of rubbing and stroking myself. It’s so decadent. I allow myself to feel good. To be on that white fur with the fingers of my lover circling me, making my body tense and aching.

  My lover isn’t who I think it should be. My lover has thick, messy dark hair and a cleft chin. Calloused hands and gritty forearms.

  My lover talks to me with a deep, Spanish accent and generous words.

  My lover is so attuned to my every twitch. My every gasp. Every cry.

  He knows what he’s doing to me, and he gets off on me loving it.

  My sex swells as my fingers find all the spots that I love the best and keep at them, unrelenting, until I edge myself to the very end of pleasure.

  Or maybe my lover does this. Because this time, I come.

  Nine

  Tavo - Caliente

  My fist slams down on the mattress next to my hip, and a groan escapes my parted lips. I can’t fucking sleep. My body’s narrow and jittery, like I’ve drunk too much caffeine. I throw my chin back against the pillow and toss my whole body around as if I’m being sautéed in a pan. My restlessness isn’t just from the dry heat of the day lingering like the last guest who doesn’t want to leave the party. It’s my thoughts that are torturing me to utter distraction.

  I know she’s the right girl. She just has a boyfriend, and I’m now as desperate for her as I’ve been to leave this place. Maybe more so.

  She’s my new American dream, my new destination. And it seems like everywhere I turn there’s construction on the road keeping me from my destination. I need to find a detour.

  I run through our conversation in my head. I just agreed to wear the ring. I’m not sure if I’m actually going to get married to him. I … I don’t know anyone here. I like you.

  Do those words mean there’s an opening for me? Because she’s not into him. I can still feel her body erupting in my arms with all that passion and the electricity and taste of her kiss. My finger traces my lower lip. No woman comes apart that way if she’s in love with someone else. I mean, if I were her boyfriend, she sure as hell wouldn’t think of another man.

  Am I reading this wrong? Bending my legs, I bring my feet close to my ass as I press my back into the bed.

  I know who to ask.

  Jolting upright, I bound over to my desk and turn on my computer to email my cousin, who’s a good friend of mine—and far enough away not to be able to tell anyone here about this. He lives on a ranch in California with his wife, a therapist. His mother and mine are sisters. I type out what I want in Spanish, then hit Google translate, because I’m feeling lazy. His Spanish is pretty good, but still …

  * * *

  De: Gustavo de la Guerra

  Para: William Thrash

  Fecha: 2 de septiembre

  Asunto: Woman

  * * *

  My esteemed cousin Will,

  I hope that you are doing well and that my aunt and uncle are thriving. I hope your love for Marie grows and grows and that blessings are heaped upon your land. I enjoyed seeing you last winter. Please know that you are welcome again anytime to visit.

  Something has happened.

  An American girl has come to live with us for a period of time. She is beautiful and enchanting, and I find her fascinating. The way she looks at me, I think she is interested, but she is promised to another. Should I pursue her?

  * * *

  Un abrazo,

  Tavo

  * * *

  I hit enviar and rap my fingers on the desk.

  Fresh air, that’s what I need.

  I throw on a Coldplay T-shirt and shoes and head outside away from the stuffiness of my room and the rattling of my hamster-wheel thoughts that go around and around but get nowhere. All is still in the womb-like darkness except a few familiar sounds—the gravel crunching under my feet and the whoosh of the wings of an owl. It’s cooler, but still shirt-sleeve weather. The sun will be up soon enough. My shoulders relax, my breathing becomes regular, and my fists loosen. I knew my thoughts were tangled, but I hadn’t realized how worked up my body was, too.

  I have to check on her.

  It’s peaceful out here in the country, and we leave the doors unlocked. I slip into the kitchen of the main house and make my way down the hall. I pause outside her door like a fucking junkie, hoping to hear her steady breathing as she sleeps, but I’m not hearing steady breathing. There’s a tiny inhalation, an almost silent shriek, a long, slow exhalation with a moan, and—

  Fuck.

  I just heard her come.

  I’m going to hell.

  As I stand at her door deciding whether or not to go back to my bed, it opens, and a barefoot, messy-haired Kim runs smack into me, making me go, “Oof.” Instinctively, my arms wrap around her. Especially since she’s wearing tiny shorts and a tank top with no bra. Her warm cheek smacks against my chest. She backs up.

  “Tavo!” she whisper-yells in surprise, her body freezing up, looking over my shoulder at the bathroom across the hall. “You startled me!”

  “I apologize.” While the lights are off and it’s a dim night, I see the flash of her eyes, which are dilated. Her red cheeks. And she smells … like her arousal. Like the sweetest, most achingly alluring woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around.

  Now. Officially. I am going to hell. My dick doesn’t care, though. It would spear her right now if I let it.

  She clears her throat and crosses her arms over her chest. “What are you doing up?”

  I give her an abashed smile. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Are you all right?”

  She bites her lip and nods vigorously. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She shoves her hands under her armpits. Those hands that I’m sure were down her pants. And the idea of her coming—

  Puta madre. It should have been me. It should be my face between her legs. But I can’t think like this or my dick really will stand at attention. So I start talking. “Actually, I couldn’t sleep after,”—our kiss—“what happened earlier. I wanted to talk with you.”

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” she whispers. “Come in.” Gesturing to her bed, she steps aside, and I survey her room.

  Her torn-apart bed sheets match mine. And it smells like the best kind of agony in here—that sweet agony of pleasure. I sit at the end of her bed like before, but this time it’s worse because my mind is going to even dirtier thoughts than before. She cuddles her pillow again at the head of the bed, and it’s like she’s defending herself against me. Even though I’m not touching her.

  “Are you worried about school?” I ask, avoiding the sexy elephant in the room.

  She squeezes the pillow and throws it to the side, leaning against the headboard. “Yeah. A little, I think. I mean, a new school year is always something to be anxious about. But this is to the nth degree. I don’t know the educational system, I don’t know the language as well as I thought I did, and now I’m thinking whatever work I did to win that scholarship was a joke. It’s just going to be a lot tougher than I’d imagined.” Kim stretches out her legs, and I can’t help but ogle her in those tiny pajamas. A grin flashes on her face, like she knows I’m appreciating her.

  I also sit back against the base of the bed. “I think you’ll figure it out.”

  “I hope so. Otherwise, I’m going to be needing you as a translator. Are you willing to go everywhere with me?”

  “Sure.” Obviously. I give her my best smile and pull my hair out o
f my face.

  For a moment she doesn’t do anything, as if she’s locked in my gaze. Then she lets out a giggle. I laugh too, shaking off the moment, and then we both cover our mouths, not wanting to be too loud.

  When we quiet down, she asks, “Are you worried about school?”

  God, I don’t want to think about this. School is the least of my worries. The girl of my dreams is technically unavailable, the girl of my nightmares expects me to marry her, my beloved father somehow got the whole family into debt, and I need to figure out how to make five times our income in a few short months.

  I couldn’t care less about school.

  So I shrug. “Not really. There’s other stuff going on.” That’s saying it mildly, but it’s the truth.

  “Feel like talking about it?”

  While I’m beginning to feel comfortable with her, like I could talk about anything with her, I figure I’ll pick just one thing and see how she reacts. “One thing going on is that there’s this beautiful American girl staying at my house, and she has a boyfriend—”

  She opens her mouth to protest, but I keep talking.

  I lean closer to her, and she draws nearer to me in return, as if on instinct. “She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. She’s unavailable. And I know what she was just doing.”

  Her face blanches, then her cheeks become bright red.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s unbelievably sexy.”

  “I didn’t … it’s not … you … I,” she stutters. Then she gets a guilty look on her face. “Well, everyone does it every once in a while, right?”

  “Yes. They do. I do.” The flush on her face is even brighter as she responds to my words. Then I take it a step farther. “I’ll admit that I think of you when I, you know, do that.” My voice is so low now. “What were you thinking about when you came?”

  Emotions flit across her face between embarrassment, laughter, and, if I’m not mistaken, desire. But she settles on saying, “That’s none of your business.”

  “It is if it was me.”

  She doesn’t answer me. But that’s answer enough.

  I hadn’t noticed how close we’d come on the bed. I could kiss her. I really could kiss her again. But I’ll respect her wishes and not touch her. Not yet, anyway. I scoot away from her and bow my head. “I apologize. I am being too forward.”

  Kim gives me a smile. “I like you knowing. It means we can talk to each other about anything. It makes you more my friend.”

  Friend. That’s the last thing I want.

  And with that word, she reminds me that she has a ring on her finger. And I will not step into any opening without her permission.

  She yawns, an adorable, sweet yawn like a kitten. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll let you sleep.” I get up off her bed and she walks me to the door.

  We regard each other in the dark hallway, then she gives me a small smile, reaches up on her tiptoes, and kisses each of my cheeks lightly. “Good night, Tavo. Sleep well.”

  Kisses. From Kim.

  “Buenas noches.”

  Dropping her eyes, she excuses herself, goes in her room, and shuts the door. I stand in the hallway for too long until I finally slink away. When I get back to my room, I check my email. A new reply waits from my cousin.

  * * *

  De: William Thrash

  Para: Gustavo de la Guerra

  Fecha: 2 de septiembre

  Asunto: Asunto: Woman

  * * *

  Tavo,

  * * *

  Nope. She’s someone else’s. Better find another.

  * * *

  Will.

  * * *

  I tap my fingers on the desk.

  Me cago en la leche.

  I’m waiting for the coffee to brew in the kitchen the next morning when Kim walks in, still in her small sleep shorts.

  “Morning, Tavo!” Kim coos, chipper as a warbler perched on a branch, catching my eye with a grin. Then her eyes travel from my face on down my body, and she does the most comical double take, with her eyelids flying open and her head jerking back. I’m shirtless in gray sweatpants that don’t hide a thing, and she’s checking me out.

  I don’t mind. Especially not after last night. Maybe she’ll decide to put that ring away.

  My plan was just to get a cup of coffee and go out into the huerta. But my plans are easily thwarted by an All-American girl with a ponytail and a tank top.

  Dios. It’s early, and I’m already done for.

  She passes me, headed to the counter for a mug, and I feel the cool morning air move as she goes by. I can’t help but let my head swivel to inspect her gorgeous, rounded ass and curvy legs, as she’s reaching to the shelf. She doesn’t know I’m looking, and I take my time, lingering on her smooth, pale skin.

  Well, fuck. There’s my morning wood saying hola.

  I press up against the stovetop, hiding my oncoming bulge from Kim on the pretext of checking to see if the percolator is going, but nope. It’s slow this morning. The water hasn’t boiled, perhaps because it’s being watched.

  I can’t turn around and talk to her, because she’ll see my indiscretion.

  “Is it okay if I make a fruit salad?” she asks.

  “Of course.” Without moving, without taking my pelvis away from the stove, I gesture over to the cutting board and fruit. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks!” She retrieves a cutting board and a knife and sets up on the counter closest to me. I’m about to open my mouth when—

  “Buenos días.”

  Oh God. That’s my mother.

  My mother strides in, perfectly dressed, and surveys the situation, her eagle eyes not missing the fact that Kim and I are the only ones in here.

  Kim picks up a bunch of bananas that are quite brown. “Too bad these went bad.”

  Madre tuts at Kim. “No. Those are Canary Island bananas. A special variety. They appear overripe, but they’re perfect.” She’s polite to Kim, but she’s holding her tongue back. Her neck strains and her jaw tightens as she talks and gestures. I’m pretending she’s not here and focusing on the beauty dancing around the kitchen and silently ordering my dick to get the fuck back down.

  “Can I try one?” Kim’s enthusiasm bubbles up the way the slowpoke coffee should be doing by now. Qué coño. I’m still hardening. Should have taken care of this when I woke up.

  She bounces on her toes over a banana. I love how she’s the opposite of blasé. She’s not stuck up, jaded, or bored. I could watch her do anything. Like eat a banana.

  Mental image of that. I stifle a sound. God, this is getting worse.

  “Of course.”

  Kim takes a picture with her phone, then peels the banana and takes a bite, her plush lips form around it. “Mmmm, it’s so good!” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and I get really filthy thoughts.

  Yep. That momentary deflation from when my mother came in is a distant memory. My dick is now fully hard. Sticking up and out like the flag of Granada on a pole.

  Will’s right. I shouldn’t be lusting after her like this, but I can’t help it. She’s moaning, “It’s the best banana I’ve ever had. You’d never know it from the outside.”

  My mother talks to her, hopefully unaware of how much I’m suffering. “They have an advertising campaign. ‘Don’t hate us because we’re ugly.’”

  “That’s so cute! Yum.” Kim closes her eyes, and again, my mind drifts.

  Yep. Definitely going to hell.

  I clear my throat, and they both look at me. “Nada, nada,” I say. “Can you get some milk for the coffee?” Because if I move, they’ll both know.

  “Your milk isn’t cold?” she asks as my mother pulls out a new rectangular box of milk from the pantry.

  “No.”

  “Weird.” My mother hands the milk to Kim, who hands it to me. Her eyes flick down, and she sees me. First, she’s startled. Then she’s amused. Then she’s pensive. With a hazy look on her face, she licks her lips.


  Now this isn’t fair.

  At the sink, blissfully unaware that I’m out of control, my mother washes small alpine strawberries she bought from the vendors in Granada. “Our strawberries are better, too,” she says.

  She comes over and sets a bowl of them between me and Kim. I’m sure she wanted to separate us, but that’s the last thing on my mind. I take a berry and stand in front of Kim. I adjust my pants down so that my dick goes up to my waistband, but I’m pretty sure it’s not doing anything to really hide it.

  Kim’s the perfect height for me, shorter, smaller, but not too much. Shifting against the counter, she moves closer to me. My feet straddle hers as I lean in and offer a strawberry. There’s no way she’d miss my erection now. It’s all I can do not to grind against her. She parts her lips and clamps her mouth down on the strawberry while I’m still holding it, and the noise that escapes her is so. Fucking. Dirty. Not unlike the sounds of my dreams. It’s all I can do not to pull her tiny shorts down to her ankles and off and throw one of her legs over my shoulder.

  “It tastes so juicy and fresh. Wow, it’s an explosion of sweetness in my mouth. It has actual strawberry flavor. When we get them back home, they’re tasteless, with woody stems. I love these! I could eat them all!”

  “These are real,” says mi madre in English, and then she catches sight of me. “¡Tavo. ¿Que te haces?” I take a step away from Kim, and thankfully I think I’ve adjusted my pants enough that I can face her.

  Or at least hope I’m blocked by the table between us.

  “Nada, que nada.” I’m not about to let my mother start telling me what to do. Apparently, however, she has a different idea, because she begins yelling at me in rapid Spanish, betting on the fact that Kim has no idea what she says.

  “I see you, Tavo. I see you getting these ideas in your head, and you must not. La estadounidense is very beautiful. But she comes from very far away. And she will not benefit anyone.”