Are You Home
Part 16
When your engagement ends because of your cheating ex-fiancée, you jump at the offer to flee Spain for your company’s office in Monterrey, Mexico. Maybe the distance will mend the hurt and help you find yourself again.
Lola puts you in contact with a friend of hers that similarly made a move to Mexico to find her happiness. And that sets off a chain of events neither of you expect.
Wordcount: 6.1k
Warnings: 18+
Masterlist
Part 15 <- Part 16 -> Part 17
Your eyes close as Jenni heads into her closet to strap up. You try to steady your breathing, heart beating wildly. One of the dreams that has chased you out of sleep in recent months is this: Jenni fucking you with the strap. Every time you'd find yourself wrapped up in that fantasy, you would wake you up with your mouth dry and your thighs wet.
Your body trembles in anticipation.
The foreplay outside the bedroom had you aroused. But you're absolutely soaked now as you wait for her on all fours, bare and exposed to the chill in the air.
A drawer closes in the closet.
Your breath hitches.
Turning your head slightly over your left shoulder, your eyes open and watch as the madrileña strolls back into view. The harness firmly sits on her hips, the indigo strap bouncing in front with every step she makes back to the bed.
It's been a while since you've taken anything bigger than your own fingers. And while you are definitely aroused enough right now for that to not be a barrier, your thighs clench because you know you'll be left with the ghost of the strap tomorrow, your core aching in the best way.
Jenni's hand lands on your ankle.
You shudder out a breath.
Her fingers inch up your calf to your thigh and on upwards until they anchor on your hip. Meanwhile her other hand latches onto the other side, both pulling backwards and bringing your knees to the edge of the mattress.
You grunt in surprise as your body gets repositioned, your fingers curling into the sheets in expectation of the press forward that doesn't come.
Turning your head to look at Jenni over your shoulder, her soft eyes meet yours. "How are you feeling?" she asks quietly, checking in. "Still want to do this?"
"Yes," you breathe out.
The striker nods, hands gliding over your back, massaging the tensed muscles there. "I'm going to go slow, okay?"
You nod, turning to face forward again.
The nudge of the head of the strap through your folds leaves you gasping.
Jenni takes it slow, pressing forward and coating the length of it in your wetness, her hands still trailing lightly over your skin. The fluttering feeling of it sends goosebumps erupting over your skin, and you shiver in response.
The head of the strap presses lightly at your entrance, the madrileña's hands firmly on your hips, pulling you backwards as she presses in. You gasp as it pushes past, gliding inside. The feeling of fullness rips a moan from the back of your throat as your walls clench around the intrusion.
She pauses, hands releasing your hips to trail over your skin as you pant lightly through the ache.
Once the slight sting of being opened by the strap fades, you push backwards, needing movement.
Jenni catches on quickly, one hand returning to your waist as she pushes forward again in small, controlled movements, inching in deeper.
Your head drops down between your shoulders as she bottoms out. She circles her hips, the strap dragging firmly against your walls, and you whine.
You don't have to turn around to know she's grinning at your reaction. Her fingers curling into your skin, squeezing lightly, and then relaxing let you know.
"Need you to move," you murmur.
Jenni presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, a hand wrapping around you from behind to cradle your stomach while her other hand holds her body weight up.
She is pretty strong, you'll give her that.
As those fingers dip from your belly button down to circle your clit lightly, your knees instinctively widen a fraction more as you moan.
And then her hips take up a rhythm, not long and performative but short and careful thrusts that keep her seated deeply inside you and end in a grinding motion. You can hear Jenni's breath hitch with every end of the cycle and know she's getting pleasure out of the grind just as much as you do.
She builds the rhythm slowly, meticulously, with a hand completing slow circles on your clit while she steadily builds up to a firmer pace with her hips.
You moan, fingers clenching in the sheets as she pulls out and then surges forward, landing with a thump against your ass. The pressure builds fast, heat licking down your nerve-endings.
"More," you pant.
Jenni groans lightly in your ear. "Touch yourself," she instructs, removing her hand from your clit to grasp onto your other hip. Cool air washes over your back as she moves upright, her front removed from where she leaned over your body.
You miss her weight on you, but the intensity of her thrusts in this new position far outweighs that loss. The strap pulls out of you, head nestled just within your entrance before her hips snap forward decisively, the force pushing the air out of your lungs and exiting your mouth as a long, drawn out moan instead.
"Fuckkk, don't stop," you plead as the wave of tension crescendos within. Your muscles tighten as the warmth from your core steadily builds outward. Your fingers firmly circle your clit, sending jolts through your limbs every time it lines up with the thump of Jenni against your back, the strap bottoming out inside you and providing delicious pressure for your walls to clench around.
The steady thrum of your approaching orgasm has your mouth loosening even further. Every third moan out of your mouth is the striker's name interspersed with an occasional expletive, your vocabulary reduced to a few primal words to get your point across.
Jenni's labored breathing from behind amplifies the build-up. Her fingers clench around your hips, and her mouth drops hot kisses over your shoulders, your back, and down your spine.
You shiver when her teeth scrape the base of your neck, her groan muffled by your skin.
"Maya," she murmurs. "Close?" It's a desperate ask, you can tell. She's right there too and struggling to hold out until your orgasm hits first.
You can't even form words to answer her. Instead you reply in a loud moan, your fingers moving quickly over your clit as Jenni grinds down. Her weight presses you deeply into the mattress and you let it happen, let your knees slide back, dropping you firmly onto your stomach with Jenni covering your back completely.
She grunts, pressing her hips into you further, the strap pressing along your clenched and trembling walls. You pant as your vision narrows.
Jenni shifts her hips back a fraction before snapping forward, humping into you with quick, deep thrusts. She whimpers, mouth open and hot breath coming out in pants against your shoulder as she chases after her own orgasm.
It is the sound of her starting to come undone on top of you that sets off your own orgasm. You gasp, muscles locking as you crash over the edge, walls clenching painfully around the strap before releasing into a fluttering pulse. Your legs tremble under her, the shocks of pleasure racing through your body.
The dark-haired madrileña moans, her own body rocking into you as she jerks too.
The strap still pressing in deep and her weight anchoring you down into the mattress, your own hand trapped against your painfully swollen clit, prolongs your orgasm. Your mind floats off, lulled into an almost catatonic state by the rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of her body covering you.
Your mind swirls lightly into a state of post-orgasm bliss, lulled by the rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of her body draped over you. Jenni's still racing heart beat vibrates through your back, the rhythm wrapping around your own heart and leaving you slightly emotional at the intimacy of it all.
She wrecked you in the best way, your muscles loose and relaxed from the pounding she gave your body. But equally, your heart is so full of affection and love for this woman because of how she treated you throughout last night and this morning when sex got added to the equation of your relationship.
You feel even more valued, more exalted.
That small worry that the sex wouldn't live up to expectations, yours or hers, has been wiped away with an internal chuckle.
She just gave you the best orgasm of your life. And based on how limp she is against your back, hers wasn't too bad either.
Jenni finally presses up off you, hips pulling back slowly as the strap edges out of your ultra-sensitive channel.
You gasp as the head drags against your walls, disengaging finally with a pop.
"Sorry," the striker murmurs gently, voice croaking slightly from the moans that stripped her throat of moisture as you both hit your peak together.
You shudder from your spot face down on the bed. You're not moving anytime soon.
"Water?" she asks gently, standing to strip off the harness and drop it and the strap on her dresser.
You nod into the mattress, eyes drooping.
Her warm hand traces down your spine, the affectionate action drawing a hum of approval from your throat even as your body threatens to pull you into sleep with every second.
You're almost there until Jenni's fingers stroke your cheek, waking you up slightly. You open the one eye not pushed into the sheet, glancing at her with a tired but satiated look. The half of your mouth she can see quirks up into a smile.
Jenni helps you carefully roll over onto your back and sit up against the headboard. You down the glass of water she offers, relishing how the cool liquid soothes your sore throat. The footballer brought out your vocal side, that's for sure.
Her poor neighbors.
You snort lightly at the thought.
Jenni raises an eyebrow at you in question.
"Think the neighbors mind the noise?"
Jenni grins. "I know one of my neighbors who will not be complaining," she teases lightly.
You blush. "Definitely no complaints here."
The madrileña's smirk widens into a smile. "Me either," she confirms. "I've, um, never come like that without wearing a vibe," she confesses quietly. "It was intense."
You keep your surprise off your face. You can tell she's feeling a touch vulnerable at sharing that based on how her gaze drops from yours to stare at where her fingers linger on your bare thigh. "I could tell you were about to come," you state softly, "and feeling you at the edge? Hearing you whimper right before it hit?" You close your eyes for a beat, relishing in the memory as you swallow thickly, "That's what triggered my orgasm," you share openly. "It was so unbelievably hot."
Your eyes open to find hers back on you, the hesitation from moments earlier dissolved as hunger flares instead. "We're so good together, cari," she breathes out.
You nod. "We are. I was worried…" you trail off, unsure if you should share your internal thoughts or if it would be a weird thing to confess.
"That the sex wouldn't live up to everything else?" she finishes. You feel so seen in the moment. Not judged, not critiqued. Jenni understands the many different paths your thoughts lead you down. She seems to get how your mind covers more ground in minutes than others do in hours, thoughts always whirling, always calculating, always covering your bases on best and worst-case scenarios. It has made you successful in business and has pushed your career forward at a break-neck speed.
But your thought process hasn't always been easily understood in your past relationships, especially at the end with Sofia. Constantly feeling like you had to over-explain your reasoning for your thoughts or emotions was exhausting. It became easier as you closed in on seven years together and then eight, nine, and ten to just not: to not engage, to not share your thoughts, to not explain how you were feeling or why.
And that was likely the beginning of the end. Because you stopped regarding her as a safe place to be authentically you. And she was content letting your thoughts and observations fade into silence because it meant a superficial peace where she didn't have to put in effort to understand a brain that worked much differently from hers.
Jenni just seems to get you. No explanation needed. It's like she operates on the same wavelength as you, her body and mind attuned to your own in a way that has you exhaling in relief at being so easily understood. It's as if your soul recognized a home within hers before your brain caught up, like this isn't the first time you two have linked up in a lifetime.
This connection has you strongly pondering the idea of reincarnation. Because your guarded soul let every single wall down without your say-so and made a place for Jenni within it as if the spot had always been hers, guarded by your walls not to protect you but so nobody else could try and slip into the space that was already stamped with her name.
"Yeah," you whisper with a small smile.
She leans over and kisses you softly. "It was so much better than I ever imagined."
You laugh, nodding tiredly, body still chasing that nap you now definitely need.
"C'mon, let me help you shower before you fall asleep."
You groan lightly.
Jenni just smirks, pushing out of bed and sliding one hand under your knees and the other around your back, easily lifting you up into her arms.
Your hands wind around her neck, lips finding her pulse point and kissing gently.
You feel the hitch in her chest at the action. "Love you," she murmurs.
"I love you too," you breathe out as she places your feet onto the tile outside her shower, a tattooed hand still wrapped around your back as the other reaches into the shower to turn on the water.
You wait in silence, body folded into hers, her scent wrapping around you like a protective layer.
Jenni guides you half-asleep on your feet into the hot water, placing you directly under the stream while her back faces the cool tiles.
You smile sleepily.
If that's not love you don't know what is.
She carefully and slowly soaps you down, hand gentle as it slides up to soap your inner thighs and the very sensitive patch between your legs.
You tremble as she makes contact with your clit. At your suck in of air, the footballer murmurs a quiet "sorry" from her spot squatted down.
"Don't apologize," you state instantly, hands landing on her shoulders. "You should be proud of your work."
Jenni glances up at you, lips already quirked up into a smirk. "I'm very proud of it," she confirms, her mouth dropping a kiss just below your belly button. How close her mouth is to your core has your stomach tightening in an flare up of arousal.
Your libido is game for more.
Your body, though, desperately needs some rest.
But…maybe after a nap and a meal.
You chuckle tiredly, and Jenni stands, soaping up her own body much more quickly and harshly than she did yours, hands not moving with the care and reverence she treated washing you with seconds earlier.
You understand why when she proceeds to push into your space, never removing you from the heat of the spray, to wash off the soap in equally fast measure before reaching behind and shutting off the water all together.
Jenni steps out, reaching for the fluffy towel on the rack and wrapping you up in it, hands rubbing up and down your own to counter the chill of the air outside the steam of the shower.
Only after you hum in appreciation, a "thank you" dropped right before you peck her softly and wander off back to the bedroom, does she grab a towel for herself, drying off just as efficiently as she washed.
You're climbing back into the striker's bed when her hands land back on you, pulling the cover and sheet back and slotting you in before tucking them up under your chin, your entire body except your head cocooned in warmth.
When she doesn't turn to slide into the other side of the bed, you frown in displeasure. "Where are you going?" you whine.
Her smile softens the reality she isn't getting into bed with you right now.
"Just cleaning up, princesa. You nap, and I'll join you shortly. Hope you're ready for a cuddle."
You smile and wiggle deeper into the pillow. "Sounds wonderful…" you trail off, eyes already caught in the slow blink cycle that leads to sleep. And before she makes it back into the bed, you're already off in dreamland, your mind joining your body in the blissful deep sleep that takes over after a couple orgasms.
---------------------------
You wake slowly, limbs stretching out the delicious ache of this morning as your eyes are slow to open. You're warm. Exceptionally so. The heat under the blanket is sweltering.
That pulls you fully into consciousness, eyes blinking in the noon sunlight.
But the sun's rays are not the reason your skin feels like it is on fire.
No, the heat is rolling off Jenni. And not in a natural way.
You sit up, sheets pooling at your waist. Your bare chest hits the air outside of the blanket and your body temperature cools, the prickly hot feeling dripping down your spine satiated now that your top half isn't engulfed in heat.
Jenni's brow is scrunched up in discomfort. She stirs lightly, eyes squinting open briefly before they slam shut and she groans. "Cold, cari. Come back."
You frown in worry, that bed is absolutely not cold in any sense of the word. You lay your palm over her forehead, gasping at the clammy heat you find there. She's burning up.
"Hey, look at me," you demand softly.
The striker grunts in disagreement, eyes still firmly closed.
"Jennifer Hermoso," you state, tone hardening slightly.
A green eye peeks open. Good enough.
You hold her chin delicately, catching the glassy sheen in her gaze. She definitely has a fever, and a pretty high one at that if the heat her body is giving off is any indication.
"You're sick," you murmur softly.
"Am not," Jenni replies stubbornly, nuzzling into your palm.
You snort. "So stubborn."
"Passionate," she counters.
"That too."
Your agreement has her tough act softening. "Throat hurts," she croaks.
You nod. That tracks. "Does your body ache?"
Even sick and in the throws of a fever, this woman still has the energy to throw you a smirk and eyebrow wiggle. "I think I proved my athleticism last night, no? Of course my body aches a little."
You roll your eyes but can't stop the smile escaping at the memory of the past 24 hours. "You definitely did. But you know that isn't what I meant."
Jenni hums and closes her eyes. You can see the exhaustion in the bonelessness of her body. Her neck looks to be in a rather uncomfortable position but she does nothing to address that.
You should get her something to help bring this fever down.
"Do you have medication in the bathroom?"
"No," she replies petulantly. "I'm fine. No meds."
"You definitely have a high fever," you counter easily. "So, meds for you. I'll go out and get some."
"Princesa," she states with a whine, "no, I'm fine. You don't need to go out of your—"
"Jenni," you interrupt, "I love you."
The madrileña's eye pops back open at that, her gaze soft and open even if it's a bit unfocused. "I love you too," she replies instantly.
"Good," you offer with a smile, "so let me take care of you, okay? It's not a burden. It's love."
That gets her. The footballer nods in acceptance. "Maybe some soup?" she asks lightly as her eye closes, a slight blush dotting her cheek from the fever.
"Of course," you readily agree, dropping a kiss to her hairline. "I'm going to get dressed, take Maní out, and then go to the store. Do you want anything else?"
"Mmm," Jenni replies, already being pulled back into sleep.
Your lips quirk up with affection. This silly woman. As you carefully climb out of bed, careful to no disrupt the striker, you amble around the apartment grabbing clothing items as you go. You wind up in a mix of your own and Jenni's, shrugging on her sweatpants adorned with her number 10 and stealing a very old and clearly loved Lion King shirt from her dresser.
Maní's head perks up from the couch, the dog following you into the kitchen where you chug a glass of water, and discover Jenni's fridge is an absolutely abysmal pit of nothing. Not even eggs, which you suppose makes sense seeing as how she has been gone even longer than you were.
You both desperately need to go grocery shopping, but with her down for the count at least this weekend, you grab a pen and a notepad and start making a list.
Maní whines near his food bowl.
You scratch him under the chin and pull out the leftover chicken you made for him last night. At least he will be well fed. He is the most important member of this household after all.
You go back to your list, jotting down weekly staples as well as items to help counter Jenni's sickness.
Soup. What kind of soup? Chicken noodle? Tomato? What's her favorite?
A memory zings into place and has you drawing out your phone, needing to make sure you have all the right ingredients on the list.
That done, you walk to the front hall, Maní's nails tapping on the floor as he trots after you.
A quick bathroom trip outside later and you're quietly instructing the dog to go watch over Jenni as you turn around to head back out into the world.
You navigate the supermarket easily. Monterrey has now been your home for over four months. You've walked these aisles weekly for the majority of that time. Usually Jenni is trailing after you, pointing out things definitely not on your grocery list to add to the basket. But not today. She's home sick. And you're eager to get back to her.
Turning the aisle, you almost bump cart first into someone.
Charlie laughs.
You do too.
It's been a while since you've run into the woman. You've been busy and completely wrapped up in your own life story. And she's a CEO with a lot on her plate, you're sure.
"Maya!" Charlie exclaims happily. "I haven't seen you in a hot minute!"
"Charlie," you reply. "How's life been?" You are still a little standoffish. The blonde woman readily accepted your non-verbal claiming of Jenni back in that elevator ages ago, but you aren't sure how good Charlie's memory is on that front. And you really would prefer to not have to pee on the striker's leg to get the point across further.
"Busy," she states with an easy smile. "I took your advice."
You're confused. "Oh?"
Blue eyes dance with humor. "I went home and saw my family. Made time. I met my niece finally."
Your smile comes easily now. "Good for you! And your business didn't burn just because you took a weekend off, did it?"
The American smirks. "Nooo," she concedes. "Actually, it was a very good trip home."
"Past seeing family?"
Charlie bites her lip and nods. "I met someone when I was home." She's blushing slightly, and that seems exceedingly rare for the businesswoman who is used to being the most intimidating personality in the room.
You smirk. "Is that so? You take a weekend off to be a human and meet someone? Who would have guessed it!"
She rolls her eyes at you. "Okay, okay, point taken, Maya. Not all of us know exactly what we want the second we bump into a tall, dark-haired, inked up footballer," she teases.
You splutter. "Wh-what?"
Charlie laughs freely. "Maya you were so transparent. It took me a second, but the minute I saw you two together, it was beyond obvious that you had fallen head-first for Jenni."
"No," you state. "No, I definitely hadn't."
"Maya!" Charlie exclaims in disbelief. "Girl, you were down bad for her. You didn't even see I was trying to ask you out," she adds with a laugh.
"I mean I got that eventually…" you trail off, eyes bashfully looking into your cart.
"There's no hurt feelings here," Charlie soothes with a grin. "But you are lying to yourself if you can't see how she had your undivided attention from the very start."
You shrug in absence of a response.
She can tell you're closing off slightly. "sorry, are you two still tip-toeing around things?"
You shake your head. "No, she's my girlfriend now."
"Good," the blonde replies enthusiastically. "You both deserve each other."
You look up, offering Charlie a smile. "So, where do things go from here with your hometown girl? She coming to visit in Mexico? You taking more trips back to the States?"
"She's flying in tonight," the CEO states with a nervous sigh. "I was going to cook her dinner at my place, but now I'm thinking I'll just take her out to one of the fancy restaurants instead."
You make a noise.
"What?" Charlie asks with wide eyes. "Is that a bad idea?"
Seeing her this flustered is cute. She clearly likes this woman. "Cook her food," you offer. "It shows you care. Anyone can order takeout or make a reservation. But spending time making something for her with your hands? That's intention you can't buy."
Charlie's eyes widen. "You're right. Of course you're right! Thanks Maya!" And with that the blonde is purposefully striding off for the meat counter you just visited. You can see her overthinking what to make from here, but laugh lightly and continue your way down your grocery list to fill Jenni's fridge with actual food.
A text dings through and you barely have a second to read it before your phone is ringing.
You answer instantly despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Soledad, hello," you state easily, hoping your nerves at talking to Jenni's mami for the first time on the phone are well-hidden behind the wall of cheer manufactured into your speaking voice.
"Sweet girl," the older woman's voice floats through the connection. "Did you get the ingredient list I sent for the stew?"
"Yes, yes, thank you!"
"Does our girl know you're making it?" Soledad asks curiously. "She probably could have told you all the items. She's watched me make it enough times."
"No," you reply, "she's sick, and I figured what soup tastes better when you're sick than one from your mami, right?"
The line is silent for a second. "Maya, that is incredibly thoughtful," the woman states softly. "She's lucky to have someone like you in her corner. You two made up clearly?"
You freeze in the produce section, hands suspended in the air above the potatoes you were grabbing for the stew. "She told you about that?" you ask, voice tight in embarrassment.
"No, she didn't say anything. But she was sad that last day at home. And kept checking her phone like it contained all the answers to the universe. Call it a mother's intuition," she offers gently.
"We talked last night and cleared everything up."
"Good. That makes me very happy. Because you make Jenni very happy."
"She's everything," you whisper.
Soledad hums lightly. "You two have something special. I can see it, and I only saw you both together for a short time. Protect it, yes?"
"With my whole heart," you reply, blushing slightly at your open and vulnerable answer.
"Good girl," Soledad replies.
"Any special instructions?" you ask, navigating this call back to the task at hand. You still need to grab some medication, check out, drive home, and start the stew. There's no time to linger. Not when Jenni is home sick in bed.
Soledad talks you through the steps to prepare the stew. You make notes in your phone, intent on getting this recipe as close to her mami's recipe as possible. Jenni was just there in Spain eating it in real time, but something about being sick always has you longing for your mami and her food. And you are sure Jenni isn't any different.
Thirty minutes later you are back in the apartment, placing the bags on the counter and quietly padding into the bedroom.
Jenni kicked off the comforter at some point, one bare thigh exposed to the air and free for your eyes to feast on the long span of skin in front of you.
Shaking your head, you open the box of medicine, measuring out the desired amount and softly sitting on the edge of the mattress nearest to her head. Your fingers run through her damp hair. "Querida," you state softly, "take this." Offering the cup of medicine up to her lips, she listens, thankfully and gulps it down.
"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice scratchy.
"Poor girl," you murmur in sympathy. "Sleep a bit longer. I'm going to get the soup started. I'll wake you when it's ready."
Jenni's reply is a small kiss to the pad of your thumb.
Your heart clenches. If you thought your feelings for her were intense before, after the past 24-hours, a depth of feeling you didn't know was possible has emerged. Perhaps it's because she's sick. Perhaps because she helped navigate you both away from the cliff of uncertainty with such grace and understanding and empathy. Perhaps because her body fits so perfectly with yours, and you now know that in vivid detail.
You drop a kiss to her shoulder and stand back up, silently exiting the room and leaving the door cracked so you'll hear if she calls for you.
---------------------------
Three hours later the stew is cooking on the stove, the smell of the multiple different cuts of meat filling the kitchen with a delicious aroma.
One of your television shows is playing and you watch absentmindedly as your fingers gently brush over Maní's coat, the dog laid out flat next to you and pushed up so his back is pressing against the length of your thigh.
He's just like Jenni. Both absolutely have this deep need to be full on touching you as they sleep.
You hear a shuffle from the bedroom and perk up.
She's awake.
The shower turns on, and you sink back into the couch, giving her space to clean up after her day of sweating off the fever.
When Jenni emerges twenty minutes later it is with a tired smile but clear eyes.
You're stirring the pot on the stove, a deliciously rich smell filling the apartment. Turning at the sound of her feet, you watch her pause halfway to you, close her eyes, and inhale deeply. Her eyes snap open like she's finally placed the scent. "My mami's stew?" she asks in confusion.
You smile and nod. "I asked for her recipe. I figured there's nothing that makes anyone feel better faster like their mom's soup. I know you just had it, but hopefully this one isn't too far off the original."
Jenni is standing there with her mouth open in disbelief. "That stew takes hours," she states softly.
You shrug. "You slept a while."
"Cari…" she trails off, eyes wide in surprise and shining with unshed tears. "Nobody has ever made my mami's stew for me."
"I wanted you to feel loved," you whisper, slowly walking around the counter to meet her near the couch.
A tear slips down her cheek.
You reach out and softly catch it with a finger.
Her hands circle your back, her body pressing up into yours as your own arms draw her in closer. You feel her shuddering breath hit your neck and have to swallow down your own urge to cry at the way she folds herself into you with so much trust.
"Thank you," she whispers against your collarbone.
"It isn't anything bi—"
"Yes it is," Jenni interrupts. "You called my mami, no?"
You nod, cheek pressed into her shoulder.
"You went to the store and gathered all the ingredients? And came back here and have babysat it on the stove for hours so it was just right? All for me?"
"You are worth it," you murmur gently.
The striker's breath catches in her throat. "You make me feel worthy."
"Good. Because you are."
Jenni's arms squeeze around your back tightly, actions conveying what she can't quite put into words right now. "Fuck!" she exclaims, pushing away from you quickly.
"What?" you ask, alarmed.
"I'm going to get you sick," she moans, a hand clasped to her cheek. "I didn't even think!"
You chuckle lightly. "If I get sick, so be it. You can make me soup then."
Your humor easily diffuses her horror at the thought of passing her sickness to you.
Jenni settles onto the couch with a blanket you've personally wrapped around her shoulders. A stern look has her dropping back into the cushions when she attempts to rise to help in the kitchen.
You slowly walk two bowls of the soup over to the couch, steps careful and calculated.
The madrileña moans after her first bite, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. "Damn, that's delicious," she states.
"Your mom's recipe," you confirm with a smile. "By the way she said you need to be taking vitamin C when you're traveling because your body can't adjust to the temperature differences well. Something about you always getting sick once you return home?"
Jenni groans in exasperation. "As if it's not the whole being-locked-in-a-tin-can-and-breathing-re-circulated-air-for-12-hours thing. My mami would have me playing in a winter hat and scarf if she had her way."
You snort into your soup, imagining the visual of Jenni playing while all bundled up as if she's a young child experiencing snow for the first time.
"Ugh, I hate being sick."
"Yeah, not fun," you sympathize.
Jenni moans over a spoonful of the stew. "This is good, princesa. Really good!"
You blush and push a strand of hair behind your ear, pleased.
"I wanted to take you out tonight," the striker says with a frown. "But I had to go and get sick instead."
"Go out? Is the team getting together?"
"No, Maya," she responds with a laugh. "I wanted to take you on a date. You know, after everything, I thought we both deserved that."
"I think you're supposed to do the date before getting in my pants," you tease.
Jenni rolls her eyes. "Querida, I have taken you on so many dates at this point. Don't act as if you haven't had that privilege long before I saw you naked."
You smirk. She's right. It has been months of flirting with the edge of this being something more than a superficial connection arranged by Lola.
All those months ago you had no idea what was waiting for you on the other side of that first flight.
One dinner.
That's all it took to unintentionally alter your future for the better.
And here as you sit on Jenni's couch, one of your dating shows playing in the background while you watch your sick girlfriend wrap her entire body around the bowl of stew you've made for her and smile with ever spoonful, you thank every last deity you can think of that your path crossed hers your first night in Monterrey. Because loving her, and being loved by her, has opened up a path you never thought you'd ever face again. And throughout it all, you have realized those dreams for the future you had a few years back were a shell of a future compared to this. Compared to her.
Jenni has unlocked a world of color you never knew you were missing. You're not entirely sure where you go from here. Where the future lands with it all. But for once you aren't consumed with the need to plan twenty steps into the future.
Because living in this moment right here, right now, is more than enough to sustain you for years.
Part 17
