Page 50 of My Spanish Love Affair

“This one’s yours,” I say, looking over at him.

“Mmmmmm, your stalking is showing!” he teases, walking up beside me. He takes the jersey from the rack, holding it up with a playful smile. “What do you think? Does it make me look cool?”

“Cool?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a professional rugby player, Santi. A famous athlete here in Spain. I think you’ve already got‘cool’covered.”

He laughs, placing his shirt neatly besides the others. “You know how to flatter me.”

I glance around the room again, taking in the details. I can almost picture it now - him getting ready in here, his teammates laughing and joking around together as they prepare for their next game.

“This is so surreal,” I say softly. “Seeing all of this makes it feel real, you know? I mean, this is your life. You’re not just Santiago Ortiz, the guy who flirts shamelessly with random women on rooftop bars. You’reSantiago Ortiz,rugby star.”

He steps closer, his green eyes meeting mine.

“It’s just a job,” he says gently. “At the end of the day, I’m just a guy who plays rugby for a living. That’s all.”

“If you say so. But I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

He tilts his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe. But right now, it’s just us. No cameras, no coach, no crowds. Just me and you.”

He steps closer with each word until he’s standing right before me, and I can’t help but smile at the sincerity in his voice even as my heart flutters a little too much for comfort.

The locker room feels smaller now, the air charged with something I can’t quite name. Santi’s body is now impossibly close to mine, his broad frame blocking out the rest of the room and leaving just the two of us.

“Santi,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

The cool wall behind me contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from him, and my thoughts scatter as his green eyes hold mine, darkened with something that makes my pulse race.

“Hm?” he replies softly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“This... probably isn’t the best place for...this,” I manage to say, my words faltering as his hand moves to rest lightly on my hip, his thumb brushing a slow circle over the fabric of my dress.

“Why not?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. “It’s just us. No one’s going to walk in.”

“You don’t know that,” I say, glancing nervously toward the door.

My protest lacks conviction, though. Especially when his other hand rises to brush a stray strand of hair away from my face.

His lips curve into a devilish grin as he leans in, his mouth grazing my temple before moving to the shell of my ear. “That’s what makes it exciting,” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

“They could,” I add, my voice a little more urgent this time. “What if one of the security guards comes back? They were already giving me funny looks.”

My breath catches, and I push lightly against his chest, though it’s more out of reflex than any real intention to stop him.

“You’re impossible,” I mutter.

“You like it,” he counters, his voice soft but laced with confidence.

“I -” I begin, but the word dies on my lips as his thumb brushes just under the curve of my jaw, tilting my face up toward his.

His green eyes are alight with mischief, but there’s something deeper there, something that makes my stomach twist in a way I can’t quite explain. Our noses brush intimately, and I can feel his warm breath fanning over my face from our proximity.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he says, his tone dropping to a low whisper. “And I’ll stop.”

I hesitate, my heart pounding. “Anyone could walk in.”

“That’s the fun part.”

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