Mr Garcia

“I had a bad breakup and wanted a fresh start.”

“Who in their right mind would let you go?”

He didn’t let me, he just slept with everyone else until I had no choice but to go.

I shrug, “Some things are just not meant to be.”

From my little search on Google, I know that Sebastian was once married too, but I don’t want to ask him about it until he offers the information.

“I was studying International Law and was offered this scholarship. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Here you are, two margaritas.” The waiter puts down our drinks.

“Thank you.” I instantly pick mine up and take a sip. “Oh, yum. Good choice.”

Sebastian sips his drink and nods in approval. “And that’s why you are in the dorms?”

I nod. “Uh-huh, and it’s so bad. The students are partying every night and day. There are drugs and orgies. I feel at least a hundred years old.”

He chuckles. “I must admit, my college days were pretty wild.”

“And rent is so expensive in London. That’s why I took the job in the club.”

He sits back, and I can tell that he doesn’t even like talking about it.

“I was only ever doing four shifts,” I add. “I worked out a year’s rent, and Porsha promised me that I didn’t have to have sex with anyone.”

His eyes hold mine. “But you did.”

“You were different.”

“How?”

“I watched you from afar. Before we even met, I saw you give a man who was begging on the streets money, and I knew you were kind.”

He frowns.

“And I told the girls at work about this gorgeous man that I’d seen on the street. And then the universe delivered you to my door.” I take his hand over the table and kiss his fingertips. “Some things are meant to be.”

He pulls his hand away from my grip, breaking the moment. “So, what you’re saying is that you’re a stalker?”

I smile. “Maybe.”

“And you tried to kill me with poisonous coffee.”

I chuckle. “Definitely.”

“And then you fucked my brains out in the club.”

I laugh out loud. “Yes, that, too.”

“And now you’ve made me your April Fool.”

I hold my drink up to his. “Golden trifecta.”

“That was four things.” He chuckles and sips his drink as his eyes hold mine, he falls silent and after a minute, he says, “You’re never going back to that club.”

“I wouldn’t want to. I want to see where this goes.”

His eyes linger on my face, and a frown creases his brow. I know that I just got a bit too heavy, and I need to change the subject.

“So, you’re an architect,” I say.

“I like what you did there.”

“You like that casual change of subject, huh?”

“Very well done.” He nods. “Yes, I’m an architect.”

“What do you design?”

“Skyscrapers.”

“Skyscrapers? Holy wow, that’s incredible. You must be super smart.”

“That’s debatable.”

“But there aren’t many skyscrapers in London.”

“My market is mainly in the US and Dubai.”

“Ah, so you travel a lot.”

“Usually for four or five months of the year.”

I imagine sharing a jetsetter’s life with him… sharing anything with him.

Stop it.

I’m getting ahead of myself here. I need to slow the fuck down.

We lie in the darkness, Sebastian is spooning me tightly from behind, his body still deep inside mine. We fell asleep like this last night, too.

Three wonderful nights I’ve spent in Sebastian Garcia’s arms.

We’re still at the hotel, and I don’t want this to end. Everything is perfect as it is.

His big lips kiss my face, our shared body fluids smeared between us.

He’s everything I never knew I needed.

I’m falling.

Hard.

“Seb,” I whisper.

“Yeah, baby.” He holds me tightly, and his lips drop to my shoulder as he covers me in tender kisses.

“What’s happening here?”

“I don’t know.” I feel his lips curl into a smile as he kisses me once more. “But I really like it.”

“Me, too.” I smile when he pulls me closer. “Me, too.”

Sebastian

“Sebastian, Buddy is here.”

“Thanks, Carly, send him in,” I say into the intercom.

I stand, and moments later, my door opens to reveal my favorite person.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” I smile. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”

Buddy is my sister’s son. His father ran out when he was two, and I stepped in to be his father figure ever since.

He began calling me Dad at the age of five when he started school, and he didn’t want the other kids to think that he was different.

“Why do you insist on calling me sweetheart? No other fathers call their sons sweetheart. It’s so girly.”

I smile as I squeeze his shoulder. “That’s because no other fathers have a son with a heart as sweet as yours. And let me assure you, having a sweet heart is not girly.”

He gives me a lop-sided smile. Buddy is the only person who gets to see my unguarded emotions. I save all of them for him. He is the most important person in my life.