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We hit a crowded plaza, and I pull Ana right against me, keeping a tight hold of her. I find openings to guide her through, making quick work of getting us past the crowd.

When I steer us into a side street, the noise from the plaza softens.

“This is so pretty,” Ana says as she admires the string lights hanging low between the buildings.

There are a few food carts, and they draw my woman’s attention.

“It smells delicious.”

“Get whatever you want,” I say.

She slows near one of the vendors, watching him pull a hot fried corn pocket from the fryer. He gives us a friendly smile as he says, “Arepa de huevo.”

“I don’t know what it is, but it looks really good.” Ana glances up at me. “Do you want one?”

When I nod, she indicates that we’ll take two.

I pull some cash out of my pocket, handing it to him after Ana takes the paper bag.

“Let’s stand over here,” I say, pulling us out of the way of the other people wandering down the alley.

She leans back against the wall and holds the little paper bag open so I can take one of the pastries.

The music isn’t as loud here, and I listen as two women speak Spanish, talking about some show on TV.

The atmosphere is relaxed as I take a bite.

“Oh my gosh,” Ana groans. “So good.”

My eyes flick to her mouth, and I watch as her tongue darts out to catch crumbs.

“You do that again, we’re going to have a problem,” I warn her.

Her eyes widen. “Do what?”

“Groan like that while licking your lips.”

A seductive smile plays on her face, then she says, “Hmm . . . sounds like the kind of problem I’d like to have.”

“Yeah?” I lean down and press a kiss to the side of her neck before whispering in her ear. “I don’t think you’re going to appreciate it as much when I shove your dress up, rip your panties off, and fuck you right against this wall for everyone to see who you belong to.”

The pastry stops midway to her mouth, and the air bursts from her. It looks like her mind short-circuits before her cheeks turn pink.

As I pull away, I lock eyes with her. “But you’re welcome to test me.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I believe you. No groaning and lip-licking in public.”

A chuckle rumbles from me as I pull her away from the wall and hook my arm around the back of her neck. She leans into me and enjoys the rest of her pastry as we walk by the other food carts.

Ana spots another street food she’d like to try and points at it while she swallows the last bite she just took.

“Two, please,” I tell the vendor while getting the cash ready. We trade, and I hand the fried patacones with shredded beef to my woman.

This time, she brings it to my mouth, and I lean a little down to take a bite.

The snack tastes salty and crisp at first, then soft and warm in the middle, the fried plantain a little sweet against the savory of the beef.

“I’m going to gain so much weight,” she says between bites.