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"I will?"
"You keep doing it."
"Or maybe I'm realizing how much I love sex with someone I love," he says. "And I want all of it, all at once."
Love. He's said that before, but not in this context. Not since we kissed. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." He brushes my hair behind my ear. "Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late."
"And don't get ideas about ruining breakfast." He motions to the table. "'Cause this is our couple thing."
"And that would be a bad sign."
He nods. "Very bad."
"Okay. I'll be good." I sit at the table and place my hands in my lap. "All manners, all morning."
"Maybe not all morning." He plates the eggs and brings them to the table. "Maybe for a portion of the morning."
"Nope. All morning."
"You'll regret it."
"Maybe," I say. "I like talking to you."
He drops off forks. "And you have to save your excitement for Mango."
"No fucking way." I shake my head. "Now, let's do this."
"Fuck at Mango?"
"Eat our first meal made together as a couple."
"We're a couple?"
"Aren't we?" I ask.
"Feel like I need to give you something to make it official." He smiles. "No. I got it." He motions one minute, goes to his room, returns with a sharpie. "I always wanted to do this."
He takes my hand, turns my arm over, and draws a heart on the inside of my wrist. He draws a line down the center and shades one half.
Then he draws the same design on his wrist, only with the opposite half shaded.
"Like a Best Friends necklace?" I ask.
"Exactly like that."
"Would you really get this?"
"I'll do it right now," he says.
"In Spain?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"'Cause then you can't do mine."
"Vixen, don't say shit like that and say you're going to be good," he says.
"No? I can't talk about how I want you to be the person permanently marking my body?"
"Bad girl."
My cheeks flush. I don't know why I like the pet name, but I do. "How about if I get something right here?" I place my hand on my collarbone.
He watches as I trace a line down my chest, right between my breasts.
"Or here." I shift so I can roll my tank top up my ribs. Then I stand and show off the skin on my hip. "Or there?" I sit and pick up my fork like this is a normal breakfast. "What then?"
"Val—"
"No." I try a bite of the eggs. "This is our first breakfast. We have to do it right."
"We do." He takes his own bite.
The omelet is great, the perfect mix of Spanish cheese and spinach, and it feels good working together, knowing we made it together.
It's a small thing, but it's a big symbol, like the heart on my wrist. An actual couple's tattoo?
That's huge.
And it's overwhelming on every level.
So, yeah, of course, the second we finish eating, I let him scoop me from my chair and carry me to the bedroom.
But I don't give him exactly what he wants. Not yet.
I fuck him senseless, yeah, but I make him wait too.
After, I make good on my promise to show Dare some of my favorite spots. I take him to La Sagrada. We tease each other about evening activities the entire time we wait in line (for ages), but we manage to avoid any explicit sexual talk when we enter the cathedral.
The place defies description. From the outside, it looks like some giant, majestic sandcastle. Tall spires topped with gold accents, a circular pattern as if the sand is caving from the water, everything shades of beige.
Inside, the place is all candy-colored stained glass. The hues from the windows and the ceiling cast everything in an ethereal light.
Sometimes, I roll my eyes at the worship of Gaudi, as if the man somehow invented architecture, as if he's the only Spanish historical figure of note.
But the building is truly breathtaking. Even the second time. Even the third, fourth, five-hundredth.
Dare is in heaven, of course. He marvels at the sharp corners and soft curves. He curses himself for not bringing colored pencils, then sits to sketch the angles, the way he did when we were in high school.
And I sit next to him, reading on my phone, glancing at his work every time I finish a chapter.
We don't stay in that beautiful, easy place for long, but I savor every second there.
When we leave, the mood lingers. The lightness stays. All through lunch, coffee, a walk around the neighborhood.
Until we stop in front of a movie theater and Dare points to an upcoming time for a bad American movie neither of us wants to see.
"What do you think?" he asks. "Are you ready to not watch the movie?"
Chapter Thirty-Five
VAL
My heart thuds against my chest. My fingers curl into my palms.
For a brief moment, I allow myself to imagine the action, the feeling of Dare's hands on my skin, his lips on my neck, the light flashing over our bodies.
