Page 51 of My Spanish Love Affair

He closes the remaining distance between us, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate. He takes his time to explore my mouth until I’ve completely forgotten about the security guards, the risk, the world outside this moment.

I practically melt into him. His shirt is soft beneath my fingers, but the muscles underneath are firm and unyielding, a reminder of just how powerful he is.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye.

I hesitate, my heart pounding so loudly it’s a wonder he can’t hear it.

“I...”

His hand slips beneath my chin, tilting my face up toward him. “Just say the word,” he says softly, his green eyes searching mine as the pad of his thumb brushes against my lower lip. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over me.

He’s giving me an out, a chance to walk away from this moment. But instead of taking it, I find myself shaking my head.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

The tension between us snaps, and before I can take another breath, his lips are on mine once more.

His hands tighten on my waist, pulling me closer to him yet stepping forwards at the same time until there’s no space left between us. My back presses against the rough surface of the locker room wall, but I barely notice, too caught up in the way his mouth moves against mine, in the way he makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping me upright. He dominates my senses, grounding me to him even as everything else spins out of control.

When we finally break apart, my breathing is uneven and my cheeks are flushed. Santi doesn’t move far, his forehead resting lightly against mine as he looks down at me, the corners of his mouth beginning to curve upwards.

“You’re blushing, profesora,” he teases, his voice low and full of warmth.

“Shut up,” I mutter, though my lips curve into a reluctant smile.

His hand rises to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin.

“I like it,” he says, his tone softer now, more sincere. “You’re beautiful when you’re flustered.”

I let out a shaky laugh.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say again, though the words lack any real weight.

“Why not?” he counters, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of my mouth. “We’re just living in the moment, right?”

“This is your place of work,” I point out, though my resolve is slipping with every second.

“And right now, it’s empty,” he says, his smile widening. “Just me, you, and a very sturdy wall.”

“Santi,” I say, trying to sound firm, but his lips find the hollow of my throat, and the sound turns into something closer to a gasp.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it sending another shiver through me.

“Want to tell me to stop, Olivia?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin, his stubble tickling me slightly.

He already knows that I won’t.

Smug bastard.

I pull him closer, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as his mouth finds mine again. The kiss is more urgent this time, more consuming, and any lingering doubts I had are swept away by the sheer intensity of it.

It’s reckless and impulsive and probably a terrible idea - but in this moment, I don’t care.

All I care about is him.

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