Page 39 of My Spanish Love Affair

His gaze holds mine, and my heart thunders in my chest.

I swallow thickly. “I think I do.”

He leans down again, capturing my lips in another kiss. It’s slower this time - almost as if he’s savouring every second.

When we finally part, I stay in his arms, my head coming to rest against his shoulder. I close my eyes as I listen to his heartbeat, steady and strong. His hand strokes lazily up and down my back, and I let out a contented hum.

“Should we move somewhere more comfortable?” he asks.

I step back just enough to meet his gaze. “You’re terrible at subtlety, you know.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replies, his voice so low that my heart practically flutters.

He breaks out into a grin that is both boyish and disarming, and I narrow my eyes slightly in suspicion.

“What are you doing?” I ask, a small laugh escaping my throat.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans closer once more, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss so tender it makes my legs feel unsteady.

Then, without warning, he bends at the knee and scoops me up into his arms in one easy, fluid motion.

“Santi!” I gasp, clutching his shoulders as he laughs heartily. It’s such a lovely sound.

“You looked too comfortable,” he says simply. “Thought I’d make things a little more interesting.”

I shake my head, though no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the wide smile from my face.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, you don’t seem to mind,” he counters, carrying me with an ease that reminds me just how strong he is.

He moves through the apartment as if he’s been here a hundred times before, pausing at the doorway to my bedroom. It’s hardly surprising given that it’s such a small space - it’s not really as if there’s a possibility for him to get lost, or confused.

He pushes open the door, and the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts the room in a warm, inviting light.

I feel my cheeks flush as he steps inside, still holding me close.

“You can -” I start, but he silences me with a kiss, setting us gently on the bed.

He’s perched on the edge of it with me on his lap, my legs draped over his thighs and my hands still clinging tightly to his shoulders.

It’s impossible not to notice the way his body feels beneath my hands. Solid, strong, and defined in a way that makes my pulse quicken. My fingers brush against the firm planes of his upper arms, and I can’t help but marvel at the sheer strength he carries so effortlessly.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and as I shift slightly, I’m acutely aware of the toned muscles beneath his shirt, sculpted from relentless training and the physicality of the game. I’ve seen plenty of photos of him without a shirt on -thank you, internet- and for someone who has never paid much attention to rugby before, I suddenly appreciate the sport in an entirely new way.

He notices my lingering touch and leans back just enough to look at me, his eyes practically dancing with amusement.

“What?” he asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

I shake my head, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Nothing. Just... rugby might not be as boring as I thought.”

He laughs. The sound is low and rich.

“Good to know I’m changing your mind. Want me to give you a crash course on the game sometime?”

“Maybe,” I tease, running my hands along the hard lines of his shoulders. “But I think I’m enjoying this part more.”

“Fair enough,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he presses another kiss to my lips, the heat between us igniting again. He pulls back when I moan into his mouth, brushing a strand of hair from my face even as I move forwards to chase his lips. “I can stop if you want me to,” he says.

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