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"Is that what you're into now?" Don't picture him between my legs. Don't picture him between my legs. Absolutely, positively, don't picture him between my legs.
"It's not my go-to, sure, but a little roleplay can spice things up."
"In your eleven-day relationships?"
"Are you judging?"
"Yes, sorry."
"It's okay." He sits on the little stool in the corner. "I judge myself too."
"For what?" I ask.
"Acting like my dad."
"You didn't."
"I tried," he says. "But I did. Sometimes. I don't want to do that anymore."
"Is that why you're on a break?" That's a good explanation. One that doesn't lead to a change in our friendship.
"One of the reasons." He looks me up and down again. "Are you going to take my word for it? Or do we need to ask Luna?"
Really, I don't want to involve her, or anyone, but I can't agree with his take either. The outfit is not flattering. "You know the answer to that."
He nods as you wish, pulls out his cell, snaps a picture. "You gotta give the camera a little more love."
"I'm not out to make your case for you."
"Do you want to cheat or play fair?"
Maybe it's the time to cheat. "One flirty image. One unflirty. That's fair."
He nods fair and snaps another pic. "Now flirty."
I shoot the camera a smile.
He shakes his head. "No, Val. Bedroom eyes. Like this." He lowers the phone and shoots me a smoldering glare.
My fingers curl into my jacket. That's… He… Woah.
"Easy." He drops the seductive stare.
My body doesn't get the message. It stays tuned to his body. The entire room gets warm and electric. I want. I want so fucking badly and it feels so fucking good.
It's been a long time.
Too long.
I try to direct the energy to the camera.
Dare snaps a few shots.
Then I close my eyes, and I really try it. The smolder. No. It's ridiculous.
My laugh eases the tension in my shoulders. "That was terrible."
"This is good." He takes another pic. "This is you."
"Awkward?"
"Playful." Another. "A sense of humor is sexy. I know you have that. But the camera doesn't." He snaps another.
I cop one more pose with my hand on my jacket, just enough to show a hint of my bra.
He swallows hard as he snaps another photo. "Perfect. Sending."
"It's early in California."
"You could take my word for it."
"Or I could wait for an honest answer," I say.
"We can wait if you want, but she's going to give the same answer." He gives me a slow once-over. "You look good, Val, and then adding your sense of humor? That's sexy as fuck."
Chapter Twenty-Three
DARE
The whole mental image of Val asking for an in-depth demonstration thing aside—and that's a big aside—this morning is weird.
Walking through Barcelona is strange. Like walking through a bizarre-o version of Southern California. The same sunny skies, the same friendly people, the same mix of Spanish and English, the same chain stores, but the place still feels different.
Then the completely otherworldly, but somehow perfectly in place, Gothic Quarter. The neighborhood is straight out of a fantasy novel. Narrow alleys, brick and stone buildings with flat roofs, massive churches with sharp spires and stained glass.
Every time I turn a corner, I expect to run into a dragon. Or a merchant selling wares, talking up the princess. But, no, it's another row of restaurants. A tchotchke shop. A bar. A shoe store with espadrilles on display.
Thankfully, the scenery keeps my thoughts off Val's groan (mostly). Until we pass the first sex shop. Then the second. The third.
A month ago, I would have delighted in teasing Val about the vibrators on display.
Right now?
I'm way too eager to use one on her.
When she glances at the shop on the corner, I shrug. "On our way back."
She agrees.
And we stick to small talk for the rest of the walk. The harbor is beautiful and very much reminiscent of San Diego, and when we get to the actual beach?
Fucking gorgeous.
We set up on the sand, strip, run into the ocean.
Our usual routine.
Only there's nothing usual this time.
Because, this time, I need her in every way.
And I feel it everywhere.
All afternoon, it consumes my thoughts. As we dry and dress and tour the city—the subway, Casa Mila, another coffee on the way home. Even when we get to the apartment and take turns in the shower.
Up until I step into the main room in a towel and I see Val on the couch in a gorgeous tight dress, expectation in her eyes.
She looks me up and down. It's a reflex. A visceral physical need. She wants me too.
But, even so, she says, "I need your help with my date."
Right. Her date. "Sure."
"We have an hour until Archie gets home."
"You're leaving from here?"
She plucks her cell from the couch. "Yeah, Archie texted. We're going to meet someplace by his work for drinks."
"No dinner?"
"No. I was thinking we could get something."
