Our knees knocked together. Jolts jumped between my thighs. The thought of our legs tangled together in crisp white sheets sent a rush of heat to my belly.
He sighed. “My only regret…Well, not my only one. I wish my marriage had lasted until after my abuela passed. Sometimes I think she took the divorce harder than I did.”
“At least you were married.”
My hands escaped his and fluttered like hummingbirds as I talked. I tried to make them land in my lap, but they took flight again as I imitated Mamá. “Esme, you’re not getting any younger. Esme, when are you going to give me grandchildren?” I brushed back a trailing lock of my hair. “Ai…It never stops, you know?”
>
“Oh, yes.” He did understand. We were from the same place, the same people, the same culture. No explanation needed.
“Every time I get a wedding invitation, I grit my teeth. Mamá gives me that look.”
Luis laughed. Tension seemed to release from his muscles. The dimple showed again.
After getting nasty looks from the morose visitors in the cafeteria, we leaned across the table, conspiring to confine our wicked chuckles to the small space between our bodies. I looked only into his eyes, even when someone across the cafeteria dropped a tray.
He said his job wasn’t as exciting as mine, but he modestly shared his victories as a goalie for his soccer team. My fantasies of him took a raw turn. I pictured him in the shower, rinsing the mud and sweat of a game from his skin, and had to close my eyes for a moment.
Thick, white soapy lather sliding down his broad back to the curve of his butt, and then him turning to me, smiling but a little shy, showing me a muscled abdomen and below that, his—
Luis touched my arm.
I squeezed my legs together. My engorged sex pulsed. I squeezed my thighs again because it felt so good.
“Did you play in college, too?” I asked.
“Yes. And two seasons of professional before I ruined my knee. But tell me, how did you get to be a line producer? Do you ever go on location when you’re working on a movie?”
I shrugged. “Sure. It isn’t as fun as it sounds. Just stressful, especially if the production is running behind schedule.”
He took my hand again. His touch sent a good shiver pinging through my nerves. My muscles clenched, aching for his long fingers to work miracles inside my body.
“I bet you handle it well.” He gazed directly into my eyes.
Dios, what a flirt! And I was just as bad.
“Well, one time…”
The cleaning crew came in to wax the cafeteria floors. I glanced around. We were the only people sitting at tables. A look at my watch told me that two and a half hours had passed.
“Shit!” I jumped up and knocked the table, sending my empty paper cup rolling under my chair. Luis kneeled down to pick it up for me. I saw his nostrils flare, so I tugged at the hem of my skirt, but that freed another, stronger whiff of my scent. Heat spread across my cheeks. He set the cup on the table. Our eyes met, and a private smile pulled at his lips, but he said nothing.
The ride up to the ICU was agony. I ran my tongue over my lips, which were flushed with blood and hot. Tendrils of hair trailed into my eyes when I bowed my head. I brushed them away only to have the black waves cascade around my face. Inside my bra, my nipples were tight.
A doctor stepped into the elevator on the second floor. He inhaled deeply and smirked. Luis stepped closer to me. The smirk faded.
The hallway outside the ICU was quiet. The television in the visitors’ lounge played to an empty room.
I pressed the flat, silver square that opened the doors to the ward. Nothing happened.
Luis peered in through the small window. “Someone is coming.”
We waited, standing close, until a nurse opened the huge door only enough to poke out her head.
“Visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow.”
It was that same nurse. She gave me a hard look. I stepped forward. “Listen—”