Lessons in Gravity (Study Abroad #2), page 2
He’s built like a quarterback, deliciously thick about the shoulders and arms and chest. Not huge, just the very right side of athletic. But his chocolate brown hair—cropped close at the sides, a combed swoop of longer hair at the top—along with all that scruff scream hot hipster. His clothes are somewhere in between: dark fitted jeans, tidy suede boots, the hem of a button-down shirt peeking from underneath the bottom of his jacket. It’s like he’s part Madrileño, part rookie NFL player, part hipster country music star.
I’m intrigued.
Who are you, I wonder. What is your story?
And would you like to get naked with me tonight?
He turns his head and our gazes collide. I look, and he looks, and we both keep looking.
My stomach does a backflip. He is so handsome. Hot. He his handsome and hot—he walks that fine line with finesse. His eyes, light brown, burn amber in the red light of the bar.
I know in the space of a single heartbeat that I am going to fuck this delectable Madrileño tonight. I am shameless in my pursuit. When I want a guy, I have him.
And I want this man. Badly. My blood warms as I imagine the way he’ll move. The way he’ll taste.
I imagine the blinding, forceful blankness of my orgasm.
Hell yes. He’d be my hottest conquest yet.
“Are you okay?” Viv is asking me.
I don’t need to answer her. She glances over her shoulder and she, too, is rendered speechless by this guy’s hot-handsomeness.
My stomach flips again when señor NFL hipster hot body flashes a smile of recognition and starts walking toward us.
No way. He can’t be.
No way this guy is—
“Tío!” Rafa stands and gathers his uncle in a hug.
I blink. This guy is Rafa’s uncle? It doesn’t make sense; they’re practically the same age. From what I can tell, Javier is twenty-four, maybe twenty-five, tops.
Viv turns around and meets my eyes. She’s thinking it, too. How is this Uncle Javier? And how is he so ridiculously good-looking?
He’s related to Rafa, that’s how. The Montoyas must have a pretty sick gene pool to make such handsome babies.
Rafa introduces Javier to Vivian, who, like me, is still staring at him in mute adoration-slash-confusion. He smiles, a blinding, half goofy, half devastating thing that works two grooves into the stubble on either side of his mouth.
“Wow,” she says at last, standing. “Just. Um, wow. I gotta be honest, Javier, you are not at all what I was expecting.”
“Javier is more like a brother to me,” Rafa explains. “It is a joke, yes?, that I call him uncle, really, because we are almost the same age. My grandfather, he married again when he was very old to a younger woman. They had a small family. Javier is part of that family.”
Viv’s brows snap together. “How much younger are you than Rafa’s—”
“Father?” Javier says. His voice is deep, a little gravelly. A lot sexy. “I am twenty four now, so that is, what, Rafael, twenty two years between me and my brother?”
“Wow,” Viv says.
“Wow,” I say, getting up.
Javier’s turns his gaze on me. A rush of tingly awareness moves from my head to my toes. It’s powerful, his gaze, not because it makes me feel like he can see what I’m wearing underneath my clothes (a lacy bra and no underwear; I always come to Ático prepared).
It’s powerful because there’s something honest about it. A little playful.
Granted, I’ve only been ogling him for one and a half minutes, but he’s got this easy, masculine confidence that makes me think Tío Javier isn’t one to hide what he’s feeling.
I like it, his straightforward masculinity; the virile energy simmering behind his brown eyes.
I like it a lot.
I step around the table to stand beside Viv, in front of Javier. “Javier, this is Maddie Lucas, my best friend,” she says.
Before I can do the awkward American thing and offer him my hand, Uncle Javier leans forward and greets me in the Madrileño way, pressing quick kisses into either of my cheeks. The stubble of his beard brushes my skin; the scent of cinnamon mints trails in his wake as he pulls away.
I love a lot of things about studying abroad in Spain.
The double-kiss greeting, though, has to be the thing I love most.
“Maddie,” he says, my name a pleasant rumble that rolls off his tongue. “Encantado.”
It’s the Spanish equivalent of “nice to meet you”, but when Uncle Javier says it in his husky, come-hither voice, it sounds like an invitation to join the mile high club in this plane he supposedly owns.
I am so, so game. I’ve never done it on a plane before. I bet it’s fantastic.
I meet his gaze head on with the sauciest smirk I can muster. “Very nice to meet you, Javier.”
He nods at my empty glass. “Might I get you another drink, Maddie? What is that, a G and T?”
His English is better—much better—than Rafa’s, and tinged with a British accent. Hearing a Spanish dude speak the Queen’s English gives me a sense of cultural vertigo, but I mean that in the best way possible. Europe—the world, really—can be such a cool melting pot.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s a gin and tonic. Another would be great—thank you very much.”
“Vale,” Uncle Javier says. I love that word, so particular to Madrid, and one Madrileños use to glorious excess. It can mean everything from “okay” to “cool” to “fine by me”.
Javier shrugs out of his jacket, revealing more of that physique that is definitely fine by me. I watch, pulse throbbing, as he rolls back his shoulders and shrugs out of his bomber jacket. He’s wearing a white button-down that hugs the rounded slopes of his shoulders and arms; he cuffs his wrists in his hands and slides the rolled sleeves up his arms, baring tan forearms ridged with sinew and vein.
I don’t bother to hide my grin of appreciation.
He catches me checking him out. He holds my gaze for one beat, then another. I bite my lip. He looks away. He runs a hand down his face, trying—and failing—to hide a small, enticingly secret smile.
“C’mon, Rafa,” Javier says, his eyes flicking to meet mine. “Let’s grab those drinks—I do believe Maddie is quite thirsty.”
Oh, yes.
A million times yes.
I am definitely going to fuck Javier tonight.
Chapter 2
Maddie
I watch Javier’s broad back disappear into the crowd. My body still rings with the memory of his lips on my skin. Just that brief touch—along with some serious eye fucking—and I am hornier than I’ve been in a long time.
“Do you know how often Javier’s in town?” I ask, turning back to Viv.
“I don’t. Not often, from what I hear.”
I bite my lip. “Perfect.”
She pins me with a look.
A look I’ve come to know and loathe.
“What?” I say, jabbing my straw into the ice at the bottom of my glass.
“You’re going to sleep with him, aren’t you?”
“I hope so. He’s ridiculously hot.” I meet her eyes. “C’mon, Viv, I haven’t fooled around with someone in more than a week! I’m practically dying over here.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Are you really?”
“I feel like you’re judging me.”
“I’m not,” she says. “I’m all for having some fun and getting your rocks off. Now that I know how great sex is—”
“Thank God you finally swiped that v-card,” I say with a grin. Maddie was a virgin until very, very recently; until she met and fell in love with Rafa.
“Thank God.” She grins, too. “My point is, I’m all for having wild sex with as many Eurotrash men as possible as long as it makes you happy. That’s all I want for you, Mads—I wanna see you smile again. And I’m not entirely sold on the idea that sleeping with all these dudes is upping your happiness quotient.”
The happy buzz in my blood dims. I look down at my empty glass and close my eyes. For a split second I see my dad’s face, his gaze terrifyingly cold as he betrays me. Speaks to me like I’m a piece of garbage.
A prickly pressure builds inside my head, like someone is pressing his thumbs against the backs of my eyeballs.
My eyes fly open. I suck in a breath.
“You know I had sex—lots of sex—with guys back at Meryton before this whole divorce thing blew up in my face,” I reply. “And I was happy. It made me happy, Viv.”
“I know it did, and that’s awesome,” Vivian says. “It was fun for you. It made you feel good.”
“It still makes me feel good.”
Viv gives me that look again. “You can’t tell me the divorce isn’t screwing with your head. Are you sure your reasons for going after the sexytimes haven’t changed? I don’t know. Maybe you’re having sex because it helps you forget. Or maybe you have these one night stands and keep guys at arm’s length so they won’t hurt you the way your parents have?”
I roll my eyes, even as my chest contracts. “I really hate it when you go all Dr. Phil on me, Viv. And I kinda resent the implication that I’m this raging slut bag who only has sex because I’m, like, damaged inside or something. I like sex. I have a lot of it. That doesn’t make me a basket case, and it certainly doesn’t make me a skank.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Viv replies. Her face is red with hurt. “I hate those words, by the way. I’m just looking out for you is all. Trying to be a good friend.”
“I hate those words, too.” I sigh. “I know it hasn’t been easy being my friend this semester. I’m sorry. I honestly haven’t given much thought to my hook-up situation. Maybe my reasons have changed—I don’t know. I do know I can’t forgive right now. Not my dad.” Not myself, I want to add, but don’t. “So yeah, it’s possible I’m settling for the forgetting part. And the orgasms. I mean, they help too. An orgasm is never a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not.” Viv offers me a smile of sympathy. “But promise me you’ll rethink your strategy if it stops being fun?”
I nudge her shoulder with my own. “I promise.”
***
Javier
Waiting at the bar for our drinks, I glance over my shoulder at Maddie. Christ but the girl is gorgeous. Flaming blue eyes, full lips, legs that go on for days and days and days. An ass that makes my heart skip a beat every time I look at it.
I keep looking at it. The tiny dress she’s wearing barely covers the tops of her thighs. Raise it an inch or two and I have no doubt I would very much like what I’d see.
She runs a hand through her long, dark hair, mussing the strands at the crown of her head. She arches her back as she does it, the hem of her dress creeping up, up, revealing more leg, more skin. I’m staring now. Everything about Maddie is sexy. Her body. The challenge in her eyes. Even the way she moves makes me think naked thoughts.
I blink. Stop. I have to stop looking. I didn’t come all the way back to Madrid to hook up with another girl at another club. I know what I want now, and that isn’t another meaningless encounter. After being on the road for so long, I’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime.
But one more look can’t hurt. It’s such a lovely backside. Just one more—
My heart skips a beat, but this time it has nothing to do with her ass.
It skips because she catches me looking.
And then she grins. A devilish, lively grin that makes her eyes glitter. Eyes that flick down the length of my body to rest on my ass. Her grin twitches, lips pursed in what appears to be appreciation.
It’s an entirely shameless perusal, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. It’s an eye for an eye—in this case, it’s an ass for an ass—although I do believe I got the better end of the bargain, as her behind is far, far superior to my own.
I wonder if she knows where I’ve been for the past year. Who I’ve been. If she was one of the hundreds of thousands of people who came out to see me playing with Juan Ramos at stadiums across the world.
I wonder if she knows I’m that guy. The so-called rock star.
I really hope she doesn’t.
As much as I enjoyed being the star—let’s not kid ourselves, I enjoyed it a lot—it got tiresome toward the end. Being surrounded by women who loved the celebrity but couldn’t care less about the man left me feeling empty, and more than a little lonely. It got me into some trouble, too.
I’ve missed the normalcy and the comfort of real life, of home. I’ve missed my family, being around people who love me for me.
But I’ve really missed one person in particular.
Rafa and I gather our drinks in our hands. Condensation runs down my forearms as we make our way back to the table.
“Thank you very much,” Maddie says when I hand her a gintonic. She leans in. “I appreciate it. Almost as much as you appreciated my ass.”
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, grinning. I shouldn’t flirt back. I’ve been burned by this kind of thing before.
But I can’t help it. She’s too fun, and too sexy, to leave hanging.
“Might I ask what you thought of mine?” I say.
“Delicious.” She sips her drink. “Absolutely delicious.”
Rafa clears his throat. He’s looking at Maddie and me, a knowing gleam in his eye. Are we really that obvious?
“Vivian and I are going to dance,” Rafa says, pointing his thumb in the direction of the dance floor. “Is it okay if we leave you two here together?”
“More than okay. You guys go have fun.” Maddie hooks her arm through mine. She’s standing close now; so close I can smell her coconut shampoo. My pulse spikes. She smells lovely, like a tropical drink you’d sip in the nude while lying on a beach in the Caribbean. “I’ll take good care of Javier.”
Viv gives Maddie a long, hard look.
“You sure?” Viv says.
Maddie lets out a breath, an impatient sound. “I’m sure. See you guys later.”
And just like that, Maddie and I are alone.
The music starts pumping, the floor bouncing in time to the bass. It’s crowded now, and loud. I scoot a bit closer to Maddie, my leg brushing hers.
“So, you and Vivian—you’re in the same program here in Madrid?” I ask.
“Yes—Meryton in Madrid, basically a semester in Spain for juniors. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Meryton University? It’s a liberal arts college in North Carolina, on the east coast.”
I nod. “I know it. Famous for basketball, right?”
“Right,” she replies. “Are you a basketball fan?”
“A little bit. I went to university in the U.K., so I’m a bit more into rugby, to be honest. And then of course football—soccer—I love that, too.”
“I went to my first match last week,” she says proudly.
“And?” I arch a brow. “What did you think?”
“It was so much fun. And so freaking loud. My ears were ringing for three days afterward. A pretty epic hangover didn’t help. Madrid won, and we had about thirty-seven celebratory drinks too many.”
“You did it right then. I’m excited to finally be able to go to a match myself now that I’m home.”
“That’s right,” she says. “Rafa was telling us you’ve been traveling for business. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
My pulse leaps. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. So Maddie doesn’t know who I am—who I was over the past year.
She’s just a cute girl trying to get some action from a dude at a bar on a Saturday night.
The relief I feel, mingled with a hint of excitement, makes me almost giddy. She appreciates my ass not because it belongs to a (slightly) famous guitarist, but because it’s apparently delicious. This is the first time I’ve talked to a girl who wasn’t out to bang a rock star, any rock star, in forever.
Not that there will be any banging involved. Maddie is sexy as hell, yeah, but I’m not into that sort of thing anymore. I’m ready to settle down, make a home with a novia—girlfriend—here in Madrid. A girlfriend I did not meet, drunk, at a discoteca.
“I’m in the music industry,” I say.
“That’s cool,” she says. She holds up her nearly empty glass and arches a brow. “Want another? This round’s my treat.”
I look down at my gin and tonic. I promised myself I’d only have one—I’m hoping to fly tomorrow—but suddenly I feel as thirsty as Maddie looks.
“I’ll have another,” I say, “but only if I’m buying. You’re in my city, guapa. My treat.”
“Guapa.” She looks at me. “Pretty?”
“It means beautiful girl.”
She smirks. “That’s laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”
“What would you prefer I call you?”
She’s standing in front of me now, her bottom lip stuck distractingly between her teeth. I step toward her. She mirrors my move, angling her neck to look up at me. That neck. I resist the urge lean in, put my mouth on the place where the soft shell of her ear curves into the sinews of her throat.
I wince at the tight warmth that pulses between my legs. Stop. Seriously stop.
“You okay?” Maddie asks, furrowing her brow.
“Yes. Yeah.” I put my hand on the small of her back, nudging her toward the bar. “Let’s go get those drinks.”
“Oh? And Javier?” she says over her shoulder, eyes flashing. “You can call me whatever you like.”
I grin down at her. “Now isn’t that laying it on a little thick?”
She shrugs. She’s biting her lip again.
Stop.
It would be easier to stop if Maddie wasn’t so damn sexy.
***
A few hours and many more drinks later, Maddie and I collapse in a sweaty heap on a white pleather sofa by the bar.
“For someone old enough to be an uncle,” she pants, “you’re one hell of a dirty dancer, Javier.”
