She disappears down the hallway, and the living room falls silent.
Martina remains seated for a few seconds, listening to the distant sound of drawers opening in another room. She stands up and begins to pace the living room as if she were a caged lion.
She observes the details of the apartment with newfound attention: the books arranged on the bookshelf with that meticulous order that has always characterized Rebeca, the picture she’s hung on the wall—two pages from her first translated novel; she’d recognize it even a hundred years from now—the forgotten cup on the side table with the rim stained with coffee.
She brings a hand to her head as she walks and observes her surroundings, with countless memories and details flooding her heart.
She shakes her head.
“No…” she murmurs to herself.
But the more she tries to push the thought away, the more obvious it becomes, and when Rebeca returns with the blankets in her arms, Martina turns toward her.
Her eyes scan her from head to toe.
“Here’s everything,” she says.
Martina stares at her, and in that instant a chill runs down her spine.
*
Martina takes a step forward without a second thought. The chill running down her spine turns into an impulse she can’t and doesn’t want to control. Her hands rise, cup Rebeca’s face, and, without a word, she presses her lips against Rebeca’s.
The kiss is rough, desperate, as if the six years of silence had all built up into that single second. Martina’s lips press against Rebeca’s with an urgency that borders on violence. It tastes of beer and storm, of everything they never managed to say to each other before ending it all. Rebeca tenses instantly. Her hands move to Martina’s chest, pushing her away forcefully.
“No…” she murmurs against her mouth. “Martina, we can’t…”
But the “no” dissolves the moment Martina deepens the kiss. Her tongue pushes its way between Rebeca’s lips with a determination that brooks no refusal. Rebeca tries to turn her face away, but Martina’s hands hold her firmly. Rebeca’s body trembles, and the push turns into a grip. Her fingers dig into the black sweatshirt she herself lent her, and instead of pushing her away, she pulls Martina toward her.
The kiss explodes. With a hunger that springs from the depths of her heart.
Martina moans against her mouth as she feels Rebeca surrender. Their tongues entwine with a passion that has been dormant for years. Rebeca’s hands slide up Martina’s back, digging into her shoulder blades, pulling her closer until their bodies are pressed completely together. The heat radiating from Rebeca beneath her clothes is scorching. Martina feels her breasts press against Rebeca’s, her already hard nipples brushing against each other through the thin fabric.
“God…” Martina gasps, pulling away just an inch to catch her breath. “Rebeca…”
She says no more. Her lips trail down Rebeca’s neck, biting the sensitive skin. Rebeca throws her head back, letting out a long, ragged moan. Her hands sink into Martina’s damp hair, pulling it hard.
They fall onto the sofa without quite knowing how. The blanket Rebeca had brought gets tangled beneath their bodies. Martina positions herself on top, straddling her, and her hips move instinctively against Rebeca’s. The friction is intense, and Rebeca arches her back, seeking more pressure.
“Martina… wait…” she whispers, but her hips are already rising to meet hers.
Martina’s hands slide down Rebeca’s body, lifting her T-shirt without a second thought. The skin she reveals is warm, soft, tinged with the slight shiver caused by their contact. Martina’s fingers trace her ribs, moving up to her breasts and squeezing them with possessive force. Rebeca gasps. Her nipples harden instantly under Martina’s palms, and Martina lowers her head and captures one with her mouth, sucking it hungrily. As her tongue caresses it, Rebeca writhes beneath her, digging her nails into her shoulders.
“Fuck…” Rebeca moans. “It’s been so long since anyone touched me like this…”
The words are like a spark capable of igniting gasoline. Martina lifts her head, her eyes darkened, shining with desire.
“Then let me remind you what it was like to be with me,” she whispers against her skin.
She yanks her T-shirt off. Rebeca is naked from the waist up, and Martina sits up for a second to take off her sweatshirt too. When their torsos meet again, the moan that escapes from both of them is almost painful. Martina moves her hips in slow circles, rubbing against Rebeca’s sex, still covered by her pants.
But Rebeca no longer resists. Her hands slide down to Martina’s ass and squeeze it, pressing her harder against her.
“Take this off,” Rebeca orders.
Martina obeys. She pulls her pants down in one swift motion along with her underwear, and Rebeca is left completely naked beneath her. Martina pauses for a moment to look at her, and desire hits her with full force.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, a smile playing on her lips. “You always have been.”
