33. Maeve
Chapter 33
Maeve
W atching Cruz get out of that pickup truck was surreal. Up until that moment, I’d been irrationally afraid that my plan to find him and see him again simply wouldn’t work. Life had been against us from the very beginning, so what made this any different?
But then he showed up. I watched him park and open his door, messing with something in the truck, and something inside me broke open. I was relieved and gut-wrenchingly nervous all at once. What if I’d made a mistake coming to his home, his safe place, unannounced?
His golden-brown skin had deepened into a dark, flawless bronze and his dark hair was short, shorn close to his head. Unlike the trendy, expensive hoodies and joggers and sweats he wore back in California, he was in plain jeans and a black t-shirt, flip-flops on his feet. He was as gorgeous as ever, but it was like looking at someone else. A doppelganger.
But the way he stiffened when I called his name told me I had found him. And the way he looked at me told me he’d missed me as much as I’d missed him. I’d hoped he would let me stay once I found him, and he did. Maybe he really had been waiting for me.
We’re sitting on his porch now, sharing the flan we got from Tita’s for dessert. We were so full, but the owner insisted on sending us home with something sweet. I’m glad she did. I just want to talk to Cruz until the sun goes down, and then for a little longer after that. It’s hard acting like his presence isn’t my entire world right now, like I haven’t been agonizing over him since the night we were separated.
It’s why I cried when I saw him earlier. All of the fears I’d had concerning his well-being and whether or not I’d ever see him came to a head and then dissolved in a flood of tears. I didn’t care that my brother and Evie were right there, watching me lose my shit. Cruz looked a little different, sure, but he held me like he used to. And he still smelled the same, like cinnamon gum and freshly laundered clothing with a hint of the fuckboy cologne I’d always secretly loved.
I stare at Cruz now, watching as he sets his plastic fork down and rubs his belly with a groan. “I should probably walk that off, but I’m too lazy.”
“That was by far the best flan I’ve ever had,” I say, putting my fork beside his. “Do you still drink cafecito?”
“Does the sun rise in the east?” he teases. Our eyes meet, making my stomach flip. “Every day. I’ll make it for you.”
I might have known Cruz by a different name, but he’s still the guy I love. And I might have had my doubts when he told me he was a cop that day in the woods, but now I know that my feelings were true. I can trust them, because I can trust him.
“So, you’re really done with the cop stuff, huh?” I ask, remembering a comment he made earlier about retirement.
“Oh, yeah. It’s not uncommon for officers who go deep undercover, especially for as long as I did, to go on hiatus or retire altogether,” he says. “And my injuries were pretty bad. They would’ve made me take a break anyway.”
“That makes sense,” I say hoarsely, trying not to think about what he looked like the last time I saw him. It’s hard, though. The image is burned into my brain and comes back to me at the worst times.
He must see this on my face because he grabs my hand and gives it a little shake. “It’s okay. It’s in the past.”
“What exactly were your injuries?”
“I had a broken nose and a small fracture in my clavicle from where the bullet nicked it,” Cruz says, touching his collarbone. “I’m lucky because it didn’t shatter the whole bone or hit my lung, but there was plenty of damage to the muscle tissue. Still hurts every once in a while.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked that night,” I say, unable to stop the shudder that runs through my body. “I thought … I thought he’d killed you.”
“He almost did,” he says. “You saved my life.”
“You saved my life,” I echo, blinking away tears. This should be a happy day, so why can’t I stop crying?
Cruz tugs my hand until I get up, and then he brings me onto his lap. Everything inside me settles. I’m exactly where I need to be. But my heart flutters, too, because my body remembers his body and the way we felt together.
“And what about you? I know he broke this,” he says, tracing the backs of his fingers over my cheekbone.
I don’t ask how he knows; he probably had access to all kinds of info during the trials. Nodding, I rest my arm along the back of his chair. “I’d never felt pain like that in all my life. It still feels a little numb from time to time, but that seems to be fading now.”
We’re quiet for a while, watching cars pass on the street. It’s late afternoon now, and the sun is starting to deepen all the colors around us. “Do you think you’ll stay down here for good?” I ask, giving in to the urge to touch his hair. The short hair was shocking at first, but I like it. It’s sexy.
“I don’t know yet.” He rubs his hand up and down my back, almost absently. “I love it, but there are things I miss about the States.”
“About Brooklyn?”
He cracks a smile. “Yeah.”
“I hope you can go back one day,” I say. “Because there’s really no place like home.”
Cruz tilts his head, considering my words. “I don’t know. I used to think home was a fixed place, like an address you could pin on a map. But …”
I pull back slightly to look into his eyes. They’re the deep brown of melted chocolate today, warm and inviting.
“I think home is where the people you love are. Or where you’re happiest.”
“Or both,” I suggest, feeling a flutter of hope in my chest.
He leans in and kisses me, soft and lingering. I’ve been waiting for him to do that, and it’s just as good as I remember. When he pulls away, there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes my heart skip. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I kiss him back long and slow, showing him how much I’ve missed him.
We have some catching up to do.
I turn the water off and step out of the shower, reaching for the towel Cruz gave me.
We talked on the porch until the sun went down and the mosquitos came out, and while we never discussed me staying the night, I think we both knew it was inevitable.
When I come out of the bathroom, there’s a t-shirt on the bed. Cruz’s voice drifts in from the other room, both familiar and foreign as he converses in Spanish on the phone. Swapping my towel for the t-shirt, I sit on the edge of the bed and check my phone for messages.
There’s one from Tristan, of course, reminding me to call him if I need him. And one from Lucky, asking how things are going, and one from Mom, asking if she’ll get to meet Cruz anytime soon.
Good Lord. We literally just got to Puerto Rico, and I just found Cruz.
Ignoring them, I text the group chat I share with Bria and Evie instead, letting them know I’m staying with Cruz tonight. They can forward the message on to the rest of my nosy family, saving me the time and questions.
Bria sends back a gif with some guy flicking his tongue.
Sexual healing is the best healing.
I wrinkle my nose, snorting.
Wish I could unsee tha t
Evie chimes in with a thumbs up and a gif of a girl riding a mechanical pony.
“You good?”
I look up, tossing my phone aside as Cruz enters the room. “Yeah. Thanks for the shirt.”
“Of course. I’m gonna …” He motions toward the bathroom. “Clean up.”
“Okay.”
His bed is big and comfy, the sheets soft and worn. Between that, the faint breeze coming through the windows and the hypnotic lull of the ceiling fan, I start feeling sleepy. I think part of it is knowing that Cruz is close. I didn’t realize how tense I’d been for the past six months until now.
Cruz comes out of the bathroom in a pair of black sweatpants, a few drops of water lingering on his shoulders. He’s leaner than he was, but still so toned, every part of him chiseled to perfection. Pausing by the bed, he turns off the overhead light. I feel him climb in beside me, my heart pounding. This might be a normal scenario for other couples, but being able to spend the night together is special for us. We don’t have to sneak around or steal moments anymore.
I curl onto my side, ultra-aware of his nearness in the soft dark. His hands find me right away and he pulls me close. Our mouths meet like they were destined to all along, and I reach up to touch his hair. I love the way it feels, maybe even better than before.
We kiss for a long time, long, languid kisses that go on and on, stopping only so he can get me naked. He pulls the shirt over my head slowly, his fingers lingering on my skin as he does, and soon, we’re tangled in the sheets, bodies pressed together.
Cruz’s breath is warm against my neck as he kisses his way down, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. His hands explore me with an intensity that makes every nerve in my body come alive. I arch against him, craving more of his touch.
“I missed this,” I breathe, running my fingers over his hair.
“Me too.” His mouth finds my breasts, and he takes his time there, savoring me. I gasp when I feel his tongue circle around my nipple before he sucks it gently into his mouth. His other hand travels down my body, teasing me until I’m aching for him. “I thought about this all the time.”
I reach for him too, wanting to feel every inch of him against me. My fingers trace the contours of his muscles, feeling them tense and relax under my touch. He groans softly when I wrap my hand around him, stroking him slowly.
When I’ve had enough of the touching and teasing, I push Cruz onto his back. Sliding his pants off, I settle between his thighs and drop kisses all over his thighs and chest, the hard plane of his belly, and finally his dick. He caresses my face as I take him into my mouth, his soft moan telling me he likes what I’m doing.
I start slow, sucking gently as I circle his tip with my tongue. When his fingers tighten in my hair, I switch it up, alternating between licking up and down his shaft and sucking as much of him as I can fit. When I reach down to caress his balls, his hips surge up, shoving his dick so far down my throat I gag. “Sorry, but I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he grits out, yanking me up so I’m sitting astride his lap.
“Maybe that’s what I wanted.” Rubbing myself over his throbbing erection, I lean over and kiss him, sucking on his tongue like I was just sucking on his dick.
His hands run restlessly over my back before grabbing my ass and giving it a rough squeeze. “You gonna give me this pussy or do I have to beg?”
“Mm, I don’t know,” I purr, working my clit back and forth over his dick. I’m so wet that I can hear it. “This feels really, really good.”
“Stop playing with me, Maeve,” he says, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You have no idea how bad I wanted this.” I lift up just enough to position him where I need him.
“I have an idea,” he says, strained, his fingers digging into my skin as I start to sink slowly down. “Oh fuck, Maeve.”
“Yeah, fuck Maeve,” I agree, adjusting as he stretches me. For God’s sake. Will I ever get used to him? “Fuck Maeve like you haven’t seen her in half a year.”
“Don’t ask for things you can’t handle,” he says with a husky laugh, running his hands up and down my thighs .
“Who says I can’t handle it?” I taunt, resting my hands on his chest as I ride him.
“Fuck around and find out,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up to my waist. Plucking me off his lap, he tosses me onto my belly and pulls my hips up so my ass is in the air.
“Cruz,” I squeal, my giggles turning to moans when I feel his hand, and then his tongue, between my legs.
Spreading my pussy wide, he licks and sucks it until I’m a gasping, shaking mess, coming all over his fingers and his tongue. Rearing up behind me, he grabs my hips. “You sure you can handle it?”
I moan into the sheets. “Yes!”
Holding me still, he thrusts into me so completely that I slide up the bed. “Is this what you want?” he pants, grinding into me real dirty and slow. “To make up for all that time you couldn’t have it?”
He feels unbelievable.
“Were you ever scared?” I ask, tracing my fingers over his arms in the dark.
“Back in Oakland? All the time.” He huffs softly. “You have to be. Keeps you on point.”
“Was it hard having to lie all the time? How’d you keep stuff straight?”
“It was my job. I’d been doing it for years, you know? I got good at it,” he says. “My life depended on it.”
“A little too good at it,” I say. “You could be really hard to read, especially in the beginning.”
“So were you,” he says, poking my belly.
I catch his hand, cradling it. “That’s probably true.”
“Especially when you were coked up. Man, I hated that.”
I bite my lip. “I know. I stopped doing it because I knew you hated it.”
“I guess I can tell you now, I liked you from the very beginning. I thought you were beautiful.”
I freeze in surprise, my brain running through the memories. How can that be true? I remember what he was like when we first met, and he couldn’t have been more indifferent. “Really?”
“Yeah. You couldn’t tell?” he asks, and I can feel him looking at me in the dark.
“Not at first, no.”
“Probably for the best,” he says. “What did you think about me?”
“In the beginning? I hated how good looking you were,” I admit with a yawn.
He laughs at that.
“I resented you a little too, though. The whole situation. I didn’t like having a babysitter, even if it was a cute one.”
“I could tell,” he says. “I didn’t blame you.”
“So, what do we do now?” I ask. “Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to try and do this?”
The last time I was in a new relationship I was a kid. I was with the same person for so long that I kind of lost my edge, if I ever really had one. Trust, reading between the lines, the dynamic of a new relationship is all foreign to me.
But if there’s any hope for Cruz and me, and I desperately want there to be, I have to be explicitly honest about my thoughts and misgivings. I have to be, because I want him to be that way with me. No lies.
“I was so young when I got with Callum. He said stuff, I believed him. He did things, and I trusted him. Until I didn’t, and by then it was too late.” I run my fingertips over his arm, trying to fit my words together in a way that makes sense. “You're nothing like him, obviously, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m starting from square one. It’s not your fault you began our relationship with lies, but it still went down like that. I think I’m still learning to trust you, and myself.”
“I get it.” He squeezes my thigh. “I’ve actually thought about that a lot.”
“Really?” I exhale, relieved.
“Of course, Maeve. This is why they tell you never to get involved with the people you’re investigating. There’s lots of lying. It’s messy.”
“It is messy. But it’s worth trying.”
“I think so, too.” Cruz presses a kiss to my throat that sends shivers through every inch of my body. “I love you, by the way.”
I wake up to a rainstorm, thunder growling softly in the distance. Yawning, I gaze at the weak, morning light coming in through the window. Weather like this has always made me feel cozy, safe, like nothing can get to me.
Cruz sleeps soundly beside me, his chest rising and falling with every breath. Resisting the urge to touch his pretty mouth or his soft, spiky hair, I clasp my hands instead, not wanting to disturb him. We’ve both been through things, and he deserves all the rest in the world. I snuggle down deeper beneath the covers, letting the soft hush of rainfall pull me back under.
When I wake up again, it’s on the tail of a bad dream. I didn’t take my meds last night because I forgot to bring them, not that we got all that much sleep anyway. Now, though, the all-too-familiar stains of dread and fear are creeping in. I force myself to breathe deeply and evenly, not wanting to freak Cruz out if he wakes up. It can be difficult to calm myself after these episodes, but I manage to do it, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth while I concentrate on unclenching my fists.
Slowly, the details of my nightmare dissipate with wakefulness. Instead of dwelling on the details, I slip out of bed and pull my t-shirt on. After using the bathroom, I tiptoe out to the kitchen to search out what I need to make breakfast. Luckily, Cruz has eggs, milk, cheese, bread, and butter, so I set about making omelets. I’m desperate for coffee, but I don’t know how to use the fancy espresso machine, so it’ll have to wait.
Soon I hear the soft, telltale click of the bathroom door. My heart leaps, knowing I’ll be seeing him soon.
“Must be a good morning,” he says, appearing at my side. He leans his hands on the counter, amused. “By the smile on your face, I mean.”
“It is.” Blushing, I fiddle with the omelet, lifting it a tiny bit to see if it’s ready for flipping.
He grins. I grin. It’s sappy and great and I’m happier than I’ve been in forever. “I figured I’d get a head start on breakfast … I remembered you liked my eggs,” I say tentatively, thinking of our little breakfasts back on the hill .
“I did. I do.” He stands behind me now, hands on my hips and then sliding beneath. “Back to dressing inappropriately for the cold …”
“You can not be serious,” I say with a snort. It’s probably in the seventies right now, and that’s because it’s raining. “Besides, I didn’t have anything else.”
“I like it.” He presses against me, showing me how much he likes it, and sweeps my hair to the side. My breath stutters, and I try to focus on the omelet, turning it before it overcooks.
He kisses the other side of my neck as he caresses my ass. “It’s nice, waking up to this.”
“To breakfast or my butt?”
He chuckles, and the vibrations give me goosebumps. “Both.”
“It is nice.” Though knowing that this won’t last forever makes my stomach clench. Pushing that thought away, I look over my shoulder and give him a little kiss. “Will you make the coffee? I can’t work that thing.”
“Yet. I’ll teach you.” Giving my ass cheeks one last squeeze, he drops my shirt and moves down the counter to the espresso machine.
“Definitely. I missed your coffee almost as much as I missed you.” I pour the second bowl of beaten eggs into the frying pan. This one will be mine. My mouth is already watering at the thought of how it'll taste, the melted cheese crispy in places.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
I nod, not in the mood to get into my nightmare. That was only one tiny part of what was otherwise a good night. “You?”
“Yup.”
“What’re your plans for today?”
“Whatever you want,” he says, making my heart skip a beat. “Unless you have plans?”
“Nope. The only plan I had coming down here was you.” I check the omelet. “Now my family is a different story. They have big plans to do all the things, including meeting you.”
“I’d like to meet them,” he says, sliding me my cup of cafecito. “And you should do all the things, too. This is a beautiful place.”
“Then show me around.”
“I will.” His fingers find my bellybutton. I flinch instinctively away, which only pushes my butt against his groin, and he grabs me, holding me still. “After I meet the rest of your family.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I need clothes, anyway.”
Cruz presses his morning wood against me as he plays with my nipple. “You don’t need clothes.”
“I do if I want to leave this house,” I breathe as he reaches between my legs. My head falls back against his chest as he touches me. “Not that we have to leave … anytime soon.”
Cruz pushes the skillet off the burner and pulls me away from the stove. Tipping me forward so that I’m bent over the counter, he widens my stance and begins touching me again. When I’m so wet that my arousal is running down my legs, he grabs my hips and pushes into me slowly.
“Are you okay?” he asks, pausing when I suck in a sharp breath. We were a little wild last night, and I’m still feeling the aftereffects.
“Yeah.” Reaching back, I squeeze his thigh. “Just keep going slow.”
His hands run all over me, like he can’t decide what he wants to touch the most: my hips, my ass, the small of my back. I love it like this. It’s so deep, and it makes me feel taken in the very best way.