The Spanish Love Deception

My eyes widened. He had just called my boyfriend—fake boyfriend, I corrected myself.

Had my ex just called my fake boyfriend a boy?

Sure, Daniel was about eight or nine years older than Aaron. But calling him a boy?

My head swiveled in Aaron’s direction.

Just in time to see his reaction. His jaw relaxed, the start of a … smile playing on his lips.

Then, he didn’t hesitate. Calmly—scarily so—my fake boyfriend leveled Daniel with a look that would make anybody run for the hills. The look that had earned him his reputation back at work. It was the one he brandished as a warning sign. And it meant trouble. Serious business.

Holding my breath, I watched Aaron’s fingers reach for the hem of his shirt.

Oh my God, he’s gonna do it. My fake boyfriend and future boss is undressing before my eyes.

He pulled it up, and in one swift motion—worthy of one of those perfume ads where everything, except the compelling and otherworldly model in the frame, blurred into the background—Aaron peeled off his shirt.

I blinked.

Madre de Dios.

Aaron was … he was …

Fuck.

He was … gorgeous—no, he was more than just that.

Aaron was a freaking sight to behold.

And his unbelievable, out-of-this-world, ad-worthy upper body was so flawless that it made me want to weep.

I was a shallow, shallow woman. But I couldn’t care.

As my gaze gobbled Aaron in all his shirtlessness, I felt the air being punched out of my lungs. I’d thought I had always been impressed—almost fascinated, if I was being completely honest—by his height and size. But if there was something more impressive, more fascinating than that, it was his height and size decked with hard muscles of all sorts and types.

Jesus Christ. Were his abs sculpted in stone?

My stupid, hungry eyes traveled from his broad shoulders to his chiseled chest and then kept going down, taking in slabs of abs that my imagination would never have been able to fabricate in such perfection. And how his strong arms looked bare, corded with powerful muscles? I would never have been able to imagine that either. Frankly, I almost wanted to poke the man to check if it was all real.

Those boring dress shirts did him no justice. That casual outfit he had worn to the flight hadn’t either. Not even the tux he had worn to the fundraiser did his body any justice.

He was … too … beautiful.

Yeah, I was ogling at that point, and I didn’t really give a damn. Not this time. This was a historical moment. I had a flawless, shirtless Aaron standing in front of me, probably for the first and only time ever. And I wanted to commit this image to memory. Even if it haunted me for the rest of my life, I’d live with it.

Loud cheering and clapping broke through the vacuum I had been sucked in. Blinking, I realized Aaron’s eyes were on me. Our gazes met. There was something intent and hungry behind that deep ocean blue. Something barely controlled. That, or I was seeing my own emotions reflected and looking back at me.

Cheeks flushed, I was completely and utterly unprepared for what the half-naked man in front of me did next. Aaron’s eyes twinkled under the Spanish sun, one corner of his lips curled, gifting me with a full-fledged smirk, and then he winked.

A single, quick, playful wink.

That was all it took for my insides to melt into a puddle. Brain, chest, lower belly, and everything in between liquefied and gathered at my feet.

Nope. I hadn’t been unprepared for that. I had been completely defenseless.

Aaron crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking somewhat satisfied, and returned his gaze ahead, to where Team Groom was gathering to start the soccer match, as if he hadn’t just made parts of my body dissolve into a goo I didn’t know what to do with.

That flawless, shirtless, blue-eyed bastard. Throwing me off-balance like that.