“It would save us water if we showered together. Better for the Earth,” Marisol mused.
Cisco nodded in agreement, suddenly the spokesperson for the Go Green movement. “Much better for Earth.”
“Just make sure to keep your hands to yourself, Cisco.” She winked at him and disappeared into the bathroom.
He did not,in fact, keep his hands to himself. Or his mouth. Or his cock. Granted, he never promised her anything, and after he had her up against the shower wall moaning his name, he figured he’d be forgiven.
When they finally managed to pry themselves out of the shower, Marisol got out first, handing him a hot-pink towel. He raised a brow as he took it, but she just shrugged. “I like pink,” was all she said as she changed into a silk robe. Pink, of course.
Cisco tied the towel around his waist, hoping he’d be able to find his clothes thrown throughout the room. He wished he planned better and brought clothes to change into, but he hadn’t expected to stay the night.
“I need to feed Snowball!” Marisol called from her bedroom. “I’m putting your clothes in the washer too.”
So, he’d stay in a pink towel for longer. There were worse ways to spend his morning. The only thing he could do was fix his hair, using a flowery-smelling mousse he found on Marisol’s counter to style it. It wasn’t perfect, but he had spent long enough in the bathroom.
Cisco found Snowball first once he entered the kitchen. She was licking up her food, happy as can be with no remorse at having her owner panicked about her whereabouts yesterday. He was just happy they found her, not knowing how he’d support Marisol if they didn’t.
Marisol leaned over the counter, reading something on her phone with a frown. She didn’t look happy at whatever stoleher attention. “Are you okay?” He felt silly for asking the question, because it was obvious she wasn’t.
Marisol’s head snapped up, startled by his voice. Indecision colored her features, and he wondered if she was going to tell him what was on her mind or downplay it. He hoped for the former because, after last night, they were well past the latter. Or so he hoped.
After a moment of silence, Marisol sighed and dropped her phone. “It’s my mom.”
Instantly his interest was piqued. “What about her?”
“She’s reminding me that she wants me over for dinner.” She quickly pushed herself off the counter. “But I’m just going to say I’m busy?—”
“We should go.”
“What?” Marisol paused, looking at him like he just sprouted another head and not like he suggested attending a family dinner.
“Why not? We can go together,” he suggested, his tone gentle but unwavering.
Cisco didn’t know every detail about her relationship with her mother, but he knew enough just from things Marisol did or said. It was deeply strained, fractured in a way that might never be repaired. He wasn’t sure if fixing it was even possible, and he certainly didn’t want to be the one to push Marisol into something she wasn’t ready for. Still, he believed she deserved the chance to show her parents just how much she thrived without them.
Besides, at some point, he’d have to meet them. Sooner or later, he would come face to face with the people who had shaped Marisol, for better or worse. And, truthfully, he wanted to understand her more—to uncover the unspoken pieces of her past that made her the woman she was today.
“I don’t know. My mom is…intense. She’s not going to like…” Marisol gestured to his tattoos.
Cisco raised a brow. “Do you like them?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good. I’m not dating your mom, Princesa. I don’t give a damn about what she thinks of my tattoos. People are always going to have their opinions on them. We can’t help that.”
“I know, but you don’t know my mother. She’s a lot, and I don’t want her saying something that is going to fuck up what we have.”
Ah, so there was the problem. Marisol feared he’d run away after seeing how controlling her mother was. He was used to being stared at and judged. It no longer bothered him like it once did. Her mother had no real ammunition against him, other than his looks. She had no way of knowing about his past—nobody did. He wasn’t worried about it.
Marisol crossed the kitchen and stopped in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as Cisco snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
“You ashamed of me, Princesa?”
“Not even a little.” She leaned up to kiss him gently.
Cisco let his lips linger a moment longer before pulling back. “Then we’ll go. And afterwards, we can come back here, and I can bury my head between your thighs again.”
The reddish tint to her cheeks was adorable. He liked how bashful she could be about sex, but then also ride his face like her life depended on it.