Mr Garcia

“I probably need your number,” he says.

“Probably,” I shrug. “Seeing as you spent half of the night inside my body.”

He chuckles and grabs me into a bear hug. “And what a beautiful body that is.”

When he pulls away, he digs his phone out of his pocket and types something into it.

“What are you typing?”

“Your name.” He tilts his phone so I can’t read it.

“What did you save me as?”

“Never you mind. Give me the number.”

I lean over his shoulder and read the name: Honey Babe

“Don’t call me, though. I’m very busy and important,” I say casually.

He grabs my behind. “I’ll call you whenever I fucking like.”

I giggle and take out my phone. I type in a name for him: April’s Fool

He reads it over my shoulder. “You got that fucking right.”

He reads out his number and I store it swiftly.

“So, dinner tonight?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.” I rise up to kiss him, and he wraps his arms around me. “I like you.” I smile up at him.

His eyes twinkle with a certain something I haven’t seen before. “I like you.” His hands drop to my behind, and he gives it a hard squeeze. “I especially like fucking you.”

“I noticed.” I kiss him. “You have a good day, baby.”

“How could I not when it started out like this?”

My stomach flutters. We didn’t even have sex this morning.

This could really be something.

“Anyway, stop distracting me,” he mutters dryly. Regaining his composure, he steps back from me, which makes me smirk. “I don’t have time to be swanning around with you all morning.”

I cross my arms as I watch him.

“I’ve got a million appointments to go to,” he says.

That’s like waving a red flag to a bull. Stupid move.

Game on.

I take my robe off and throw it onto the kitchen counter and put my hands on my hips. “That’s a shame. I’m suddenly feeling all tingly, wet, and... in the mood.”

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t even.”

“I guess I can always…,”I push my finger into my mouth and suck seductively, “sort myself out.”

His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip.

“Actually, I think my vibrator is in my overnight bag.” I rub my hands down over my breasts and pull at my nipples until they harden. “Maybe I’ll ride that. Do you want me to send you a video of it?”

His eyes darken as he unzips his trousers and falls back onto the couch. “The only thing you have permission to ride is my cock.” He drags me over him and spreads my legs. “Get the fuck on it.”

I laugh out loud. “But you’ve got to go. You have a million meetings, Mr. Garcia. I couldn’t possibly hold you up.”

He impales me in one sharp movement, and I’m instantly silenced.

“April’s fool,” I mouth.

He grabs my hair and drags my face to his. “Shut up or I’m going to fuck that slutty little mouth.”

I lick his open lips, and his grip on my hair tightens. “Fill me up, big boy,” I whisper against his lips. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Sebastian takes my hand as we get out of the cab. I can hardly wipe the huge smile from my face.

I’m on a date. A real life bonafide date.

With a god.

He hasn’t asked me if I’ve resigned from the club, but I will. Without question, I will.

We walk into the restaurant.

“Hello, booking under the name of Garcia,” he says, I stand and hold his hand like the groupie I am.

I glance around, expecting everyone around us to be looking at him… and me for being with him.

Look how gorgeous he is, people.

I really am smitten. I spent my whole day smiling goofily and staring into space.

The waiter leads us through the restaurant to a table for two in the back.

It’s lit by candlelight, all moody and romantic. We take a seat, and the waiter pours us a water each.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I open the menu. “What’s good?”

“The cocktails are amazing.”

“Okay.” I close my menu. “I’ll have a margarita.”

Sebastian glances up with a smile and closes his menu. “Make that two.”

The waiter leaves us alone to stare at each other.

“Garcia…” I frown. “Is that Italian?” He’s darker skinned, so I know his origin is from somewhere European.

“Spanish.”

“You’re Spanish?”

He chuckles. “My parents are, yes.”

“Which part?”

“Valencia.”

I grin. “You speak Spanish?”

He takes my hand over the table and kisses my fingertips.

“Lo hago, y eres la mujer de mierda más hermosa que he visto.”

“What did you just say?”

“That I do, and that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

My heart swells, and I rearrange my napkin on my lap. “Just when I think you can’t get any hotter.”

He chuckles, his hand rests on his temple. “What brought you to London from America?”

I shrug. I don’t want to talk about my divorce. It’s a stain that I don’t want to share. My marriage breakdown makes me feel like a failure.