Page 4 of The Slayer
She closed her eyes, imagining what he would look like with the covers pushed down around his waist, the edge of his boxer briefs barely visible, all that beautiful, tanned, and tattooed skin showing.
The door to the apartment burst open, and she just had a second to grab her shirt and cover herself before Chuito was filling up the doorway to her bedroom.
“Coño.” Chuito looked at the ceiling rather than Alaine sitting there with her arm across her chest. He turned as if he was going to leave, but he stopped, showing her his back. He put his hand on the frame and swallowed hard before he asked quietly, “What do you mean, you can’t do it alone?”
“Really?” She laughed. “I have to spell it out to you? The gangster. The man who is too bad to be with someone good?”
“Just answer the question, Alaine,” Chuito said with his back still to her. “Spell it out for me. Remember, we don’t speak the same first language.”
She rolled her eyes, because that one was very old. The different-cultures excuse had expired three years ago. “Spare me.”
“Did you put your shirt on?”
“No, I didn’t.” She threw it at him for good measure. He flinched when it hit his back. “I’m not an angel, and you’re not a devil. So what are you going to do ’bout it?”
“It is official that you’re not allowed to drink Patrón anymore,” Chuito growled.
“It’s my apartment.” She tried to imitate his harsh, unbending way of demanding things. “Get out.”
“Why are you taking this so fucking personally?” Chuito asked in disbelief.
“Itispersonal, and you know why.”
“Ay Dios mio.” He gripped at the door frame so hard his knuckles lightened with the effort. “Just tell me why you think you can’t do it alone.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I don’t want you to think you’re broken.” His voice was suddenly choked with agony. “I care about you. I don’t want you to marry some pendejo who doesn’t know what he’s doing and have you spend the rest of your days unhappy. I want you to enjoy life. That’sallI want.”
“I’m going to be unhappy. Married or not. The man I love won’t be with me. I tried dating, Chuito. I tried going back to the church and being withmy people, as you so politically incorrectly put it. Didn’t work out. Now get out.”
“Are you gonna tell me?” he asked as if he didn’t hear the rest of her speech.
“Are you deaf?”
“That’s not very politically correct either.”
“You’re a nasty drunk!” she yelled at him.
Chuito laughed. “Trust me, I don’t win the award for that tonight.”
“I can’t come,” she announced, because he clearly wasn’t going to leave otherwise. “I have tried. Alone. With a partner. I can’t do it. I don’t know why. Time for you to leave.”
Chuito was silent for several heartbeats before he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I think I’d notice if I had an orgasm.”
Chuito ran his hand down the door frame, his back muscles tense as if he was having an inner battle with himself. Then he rested his cheek against the wood and whispered, “I could make you do it.”
Alaine sucked in a sharp breath, because the sound in his voice, the promise, the low rasp to it caused something hot to spread over her so fast she couldn’t breathe.
“One time,” he said as Alaine tried to find her voice. “That’s it, mami. I’ll do it one time. Then you have to promise to never let me touch you again.”
She put a hand to her chest, because she realized he was serious. After five years of wanting him, of loving him, he was going to…
“It’s not sex,” he cut off her train of thought. “I can’t fuck you.”
“Why not?” She hated the soft, desperate sound in her voice, but she couldn’t help it.
