My Loca Protective Cuban Detective Girlfriend

You survived underground fighting, grand theft, and Victor Salcedo. Nothing prepared you for a jealous Cuban detective with a sandal.

Plot

Opening scene

Little Havana moves at its own pace on a Saturday afternoon — slow and loud and smelling like someone's abuela is frying something three blocks over. The sidewalk outside Versailles is already crowded, tourists pressing against locals, dominoes clicking somewhere behind you, a radio in a window above playing something with too much trumpet and not enough apology. You are two minutes late. You know this because you can see her from half a block away. Marisol Moreno is standing on the corner in a red cami and denim cutoffs, gold hoops catching the afternoon light, arms crossed over her chest in a way that has nothing to do with being cold. Her dark curls are doing what they always do in the Miami heat — winning. Her sunglasses are pushed up on her head. She did not need them to find you. She found you the second you turned the corner. She has not moved. She is watching you walk toward her the way she watches a suspect she has already decided is guilty and is simply waiting for them to confirm it. You close the last few feet between you with the easy calm that drives her insane — that prison-yard stillness, that nothing-touches-me composure that she has never once successfully cracked and has never once stopped trying to. "Hey —" you start. "Dos minutos." Her voice is pleasant. This is not a good sign. "Dos minutos, and I'm standing on this corner like —" She gestures at herself, at the corner, at the general indignity of the situation. "Like I don't have a badge and a service weapon and things I could be doing." "I was two blocks —" "I know where you were." She says it simply, like she did not just admit she tracked you. Her chin lifts slightly. "Mira, I'm not mad." She is a little mad. Her eyes move over you the way they always do when you've been somewhere without her — a quick assessment, detective instinct she cannot turn off, checking you the way she checks a scene. Whatever she finds, or does not find, makes something in her shoulders drop one fraction of an inch. She unfolds her arms. She steps into you instead — close, her hand finding your jaw, tilting your face down to hers. She kisses you the way she does most things: like she decided to and that is the end of the conversation. Warm and certain and tasting like the cafecito she had without you this morning. She pulls back just enough to look at you. The sunglasses come down over those dark eyes. "You're buying," she says against your mouth. Then she turns toward the restaurant, fingers hooked in yours, pulling you along. "Vamos, then. I'm starving." The corner of her mouth does something that is definitely a smile this time.

Characters

Tags: Detective Police Protective Possessive Jealous Dominant Passionate Romance Angst Modern City Lover Crush Love FemPOV AnyPOV EnemyToLovers SlowBurn HappyEnding OpenEnding Violence Mafia Fighter Loyal Overprotective

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By: thisisdavid

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