CHAPTER 12

The chime of Moon’s phone stops him from answering my question. He places his glass on the small side table, twists up a bit, and takes his cell from his pocket. He checks the screen and like a teenage pro, sends a message. He looks up at me after sending it. “Alex is here with our food.” At the thought of El Tiempo, my stomach rumbles. Moon cocks an eyebrow.

Hell even that’s sexy.

I stand up when I hear a soft knock at my front door.

“Sit. I’ll get it and bring everything over here,” he says as he heads to my door, like he owns it, and opens it for Gomez. Moon takes the food and I see Gomez peer at me over Moon’s shoulder. I can’t identify the exact look he gives me, and I tell myself that I don’t care. So what if Gomez is impressed with the way I handle myself. That and a dollar will buy me an ice-cold Slurpee. Moon closes the door with his elbow while holding the bag in one hand and a six-pack of Corona in the other. It reminds me that I was being observed inside the bar. It’s someone who came in after I arrived. Fuck. Besides Al and the other two cops, only a white guy came in. He never looked at me, scoped the place out, or did anything that would give him away as a cop or a thug. Go figure.

My stomach growls loudly.

“I take it you’re hungry,” Moon says as he places everything on my end table and pulls the first container from the bag. It smells heavenly.

“I’m always hungry for El Tiempo,” I give back grudgingly.

“Sit over here and I’ll move the table in front of us.” He moves my damn furniture without a care that it bothers me.

I want to stay angry, but the aroma of fish tacos overrides my angst. I switch over to the loveseat. It’s no hardship to watch Moon move the table either. His arms flex and the T-shirt pulls across his chest when he lifts the table. He appears relaxed for a change and it’s like he doesn’t run the largest crime organization in Arizona. He’s just a normal guy. Strike that. A normal guy does not have a body cut like Moon’s. More than I want that first bite of taco, I want to see Moon’s abs. My eyes stay glued as he sits and grabs a beer. He twists at the waist and removes a pocket knife from his front jeans pocket. It has a bottle-cap remover, which he uses on first one and then the other beer bottle. He sits them both on the table, which is now in front of us, and hands me napkins from the bag. I wait for him to get situated with his food and hand him back two napkins. El Tiempo tacos are messy, and I try not to salivate.

He waits for me to pick up a taco before taking his first bite. Watching him eat shouldn’t be so sexy. When he closes his eyes and chews, I swear I have a small orgasm. I take my first bite of my taco and then have another. This time I close my eyes; when I open them after swallowing, Moon is fixated on my mouth. I lick my lips and watch his eyes go from ocean blue to sizzling hot subterranean blue.

The last thing I should be doing is sitting here having food sex with Moon. I take another bite and the spicy carne asada hits my taste buds. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and the taco pulls me to the dark side. I also conclude that food sex is a natural wonder of the world.

Moon is the first man in my life to have food and my favorite beer delivered to me. This shouldn’t speak to the inner me, but I feel a crack in the walls I’ve tried pulling up in regard to Moon.

We continue eating and casting fuck-me eyes back and forth. I take notice that Moon doesn’t have a fixation with my tits. He’s an equal opportunity voyeur and never locks his eyes on one piece of my anatomy for too long. I don’t think I can say the same about myself. The arm porn draws my attention each time he takes a bite. Then my gaze travels to his mouth and I want to be his taco. I bite my lip over the ridiculousness of my feelings. I’ve never reacted to any man this way, and, I have no clue how to make it stop.

Moon finishes first and sits back with his beer in hand and watches me eat. For the oddest reason, I’m not uncomfortable. I would love to know what he’s thinking, though. When I’m done, he reaches into the bag, pulls out four wrapped candies, and hands over two. The tacos are great, but El Tiempo is also known for its homemade Mexican candy. It’s dried mangos dipped in chamoy sauce. There is nothing else like it on this planet.

“Any chance I can talk you out of one of yours?” Moon teases before he pops the first one in his mouth.

“I’ll draw my gun if you try.”

He chews slowly while I slide the candy between my lips and move the confection around inside my mouth. My tongue moves across my lips. Moon’s eyes grow unbelievably hungry. If a shark had blue eyes and saw a wounded sea lion, those eyes might come close to the way Moon’s look right now.

What if he was an ordinary man? What if I’d never been a cop?

“Alex gave you to me.”

I start coughing. Moon leans in, puts his arm around my back, and tips his water glass to my lips. I take a sip on reflex. He sets the glass down without removing his arm. Luckily, I’ve swallowed my candy when his lips meet mine. His tongue slides in, tasting me with slow, smooth strokes, and I can’t think past the flavor of the candy mixed with pure Moon.

I squeeze my fingers into fists to keep from clenching his muscular arms. His hand moves to my throat. His fingers are splayed so I can feel the metal of his thumb ring against my skin. His lips tease mine, and my body is amped so high, I sigh into his mouth. He pulls away, but he doesn’t look at me. He grabs his beer and downs it. He places the containers and used napkins into the bag before he stands and heads to my kitchen to toss everything in the trash. I try to stabilize my breathing. I expect him to come back, but I’m stunned when he opens the front door and glances over his shoulder.

“Next Wednesday, same time. I’ll pick you up and take you out. Be ready.” And then he’s gone. No sex on the floor. No sex in my bed. No fucking sex at all. The bastard left me hanging.

I groan into my quiet living room wondering what the hell just happened. I’m a fool, that’s what. A complete… fool.