Chapter 19: Heat Signature

Exhaustion

Carla lay sprawled across my chest, sweat clinging to both of us. Her breathing slowed, but her pulse still thumped hard beneath my hand.

I could feel it. The tremor. The unspoken thing growing between us.

Her body arched into me again, desperate, insistent—but weaker now. She was close to empty.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, trying to steady her rhythm. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Her jaw clenched. “I’m not quitting.”

Her muscles trembled as she rode me one last time before collapsing fully onto me, breathless.

I kissed her temple, whispering, “I love you.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her heartbeat hammered harder than mine.

Finally, she whispered, “I can’t keep up.”

A Decision

Later, when we were lying quiet again, Carla turned to face me, her eyes sharp despite her fatigue.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

She bit her lip. “If I needed help—real help—to ... keep up with you ... would you trust me to handle it?”

I blinked. “Help?”

Her voice stayed steady. “I mean bringing someone in. Someone who can ... share the load.”

The air thickened.

“You mean—”

She cut me off gently. “I mean I don’t want to lose what we have. And if your needs are too much for me alone ... I’d rather build something sustainable.”

I swallowed hard. “You’d be okay with that?”

“If I choose who, and how.” She exhaled. “And if you stay mine.”

“Always.”

The Truth Revealed

Later that night, Carla returned briefly to her house.

As she passed Mama Caceres’s office, her steps slowed.

The door was slightly ajar.

Inside, Mama sat illuminated by the soft glow of the security monitor.

The cameras showed Eli’s house—his bedroom, his living room, private spaces Carla never realized her mother still had access to.

Mama’s breath was shallow. Her hand drifted beneath her robe, moving rhythmically as she watched a paused frame of Eli standing shirtless in his kitchen—hips loose, towel slung low across his waist, the heavy outline beneath unmistakable.

Her gaze lingered lower, pupils dilated, chest rising and falling in slow, shallow waves.

Carla froze.

And understood.

Not just Mama’s interest. Not just the voyeurism.

But the hunger.

The fixation.

Processing

Carla backed away quietly, her pulse racing.

Her first instinct wasn’t rage.

It was recognition.

Mama wasn’t simply watching Eli because of motherly concern.