Page 83 of My Spanish Love Affair

The sensation of his hard, thick length pulsating against my sensitive walls warms me from the inside, and I whimper at the loss of him when he eventually uses his grip on my body to tilt my hips and remove himself.

“Oh my god,” I moan into the crook of his neck, my eyes squeezing firmly to a close. Santi chuckles as he places a kiss to my sweat-dampened forehead, and I can feel his smile against my skin. “That was - I - you -oh my god.”

Santi leaves one hand on my waist but brings the other to tangle in the strands of my hair, running his thick fingers through my blonde locks as he smiles against my cheek.

“You’re pretty incredible, profesora,” he murmurs. “I hope you know that.”

I can only hum in response, far too overcome with pleasure to think of anything smart to say in response.

And while I know from experience that I really need to go and clean myself up… I can’t find it in me just yet to remove myself from his arms.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Iwake with a jolt to the shrill sound of my alarm blaring.

With my eyes firmly closed, I grumble under my breath and mute my phone, snoozing it for ten minutes so that I can come around in peace before it disturbs me again.

Slowly but surely, I blink awake, my eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. It takes a moment for reality to settle in, but when it does, a soft smile spreads across my face.

Santi’s penthouse.

I glance to my side, where he is still fast asleep and snoring softly, apparently not phased at all by my phone’s disruption.

He’s lying on his stomach, the sheets draped low across his muscular back, revealing the expanse of his broad shoulders and toned arms. His face is turned toward me, his handsome features relaxed in an uncharacteristic way.

For a moment, I just watch him, my fingers idly tracing the edge of the sheet where it rests against his skin. It’s so lovely to see him like this; soft and undisturbed, peaceful and somewhat vulnerable.

As much as I would love nothing more than to have a lazy morning in this beautiful penthouse with my gorgeous boyfriend, I still have a job to get ready for and go to - at least for a few more weeks, anyway.

I sit up slowly in the huge bed, careful not to disturb him as I reach for the robe hanging over the back of the nearby armchair. Wrapping it around myself, I pad out as quietly as I can into the living room, the chill of the hardwood floors a stark contrast to the warmth of the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The view is breathtaking. The entire city sprawls out below me, only just beginning to stir.

Another beautiful morning in Spain.

There’s a distinct sound of soft footsteps behind me, and I turn to see Santi leaning against the doorway, his hair tousled and his green eyes still heavy with sleep. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of light grey sweatpants, well and truly showing off his sculpted physique.

“Morning,” he says, his voice husky and warm, his accent thicker than usual.

I can’t help but smile at the sound of it. “Morning,” I reply.

He smiles in return as he crosses the room, pulling me into his strong arms without a word. The warmth of his body against mine is blissful, and I let myself relax into his embrace, resting the back of my head against his chest as we both look out toward the city.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low as he rests his chin on top of my head.

I nod, though I know he can sense the hesitation in my movements.

“You’re overthinking,” he says, his tone teasing but gentle.

I pull back slightly to look at him, my fingers idly playing with the hem of his sweatpants.

“I just... I don’t want to ruin this. Whatever this is.”

“What? You’re not going to ruin anything,” he says firmly. “We’re in this together, remember? Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tighten, and I nod, leaning into his touch.

“Okay,” I whisper.

---