Page 128 of My Spanish Love Affair

“I know,” he replies, his voice low, almost in a whisper. “That’s why I wanted to make sure you had it.”

There’s a pause, the silence hanging between us in a way that feels intimate and comfortable. I’m about to say something else when his phone buzzes on the table, breaking the moment. He glances at it briefly before muttering a curse under his breath.

“Work?” I ask, sensing his frustration.

“Just some transfer stuff,” he says, grabbing the phone and glancing at the message. He sets it back down with a grimace. “I didn’t want to ruin this for us. But... there’s always something, isn’t there?”

I lean in, placing a hand on his strong arm in an attempt to offer him some comfort.

“Hey, you don’t have to explain. I get it. I know you’re always juggling a million things.”

He gives me a soft smile, but I can tell there’s a bit of tension still in his body.

“I just don’t want to waste this time with you. We’ve barely had any time just for us lately.”

“I understand,” I say, nodding. “We’ll make the most of it. Just because there’s a little work doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?”

He smiles, his eyes twinkling. “You’re right. And I’m not going to let anything ruin this weekend. It’s all about us.”

Santi’s voice is thick with promise, his green eyes darkening as he inches closer towards me. My pulse quickens at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, anticipation crackling between us like static electricity.

“Well, now that I’m awake and not drooling in the car, I’m all yours,” I say.

Santi inches closer and closer until we are so close that our breath intertwines. He doesn’t rush, though. He never does. Instead, he takes his time, drawing out the moment and letting the weight of his previous words settle over me.

He doesn’t kiss me. Not yet.

“Tell me,” I murmur, my lips grazing his as I speak. “What exactly does this weekend involve?”

His mouth curves into a slow, knowing smirk as his fingers trail along my arm, featherlight, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

The tension in the air between us thickens, the world outside this room fading into nothing. I barely register the sound of the distant ocean waves outside the window or the warm breeze slipping through the open balcony doors. All I can focus on is him: the way his breath fans across my lips, the way his strong, muscular body hovers over mine and the way his large hands are already setting fire to my skin without even touching me properly yet.

His presence is overwhelming, and I lower my body down onto the bed until I’m lay on my back with my head tilted against the pillows, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs. He follows me with ease, his hips pressing lightly over mine as his hands come to rest on either side of my head.

“You’re such a tease,” I tell him, my voice low and quiet.

His deep chuckle vibrates against my skin as he kisses the corner of my mouth, his nose brushing against mine.

“You love it.”

I do.

I love the way he takes his time, the way he makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world.

I love the way he watches me as if he’s trying to memorise every single reaction my body gives to his ministrations.

And I love that no matter how many times we do this, no matter how familiar we become with each other’s bodies, he never stops making it feel new.

Santi moves lower, pressing soft kisses along my jaw and down the slope of my neck. His lips linger at the sensitive spot justbelow my ear, and I shiver.

He notices, of course. He always does.

“Hmm,” he muses against my skin, his stubble tickling the exposed flesh. “I like that.”

I don’t get a chance to respond because his lips are back on mine, deeper this time, more insistent. One of his handsfinallymoves away from where it was propping him up above my head, sliding down my side and over the curve of my waist and then pulling me closer so that our bodies align.

I sigh into his mouth, my own hands lifting and threading through his thick, dark hair, tugging slightly at the wavy strands just the way I know he likes.

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