Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
The last of the fireworks fade, leaving the sky hazy with smoke as the crowd begins to disperse around us. Neither of us is in a hurry to leave, and thanks to our position around the edges, we’re able to linger there, watching as the ninots continue to burn under the streetlights.
“This was a good idea,” I say softly, leaning my head against his shoulder.
His muscular arms shift as one slips down to rest around my waist while the other remains draped over my shoulders. His touch is steady and comforting, and despite the hustle and bustle around us, I feel like the rest of the world has melted away, leaving just the two of us in this perfect little bubble.
“Every moment with you is a good idea, Olivia,” he says softly.
The sincerity in his tone makes my breath catch, and I glance up at him, my chest tightening with an emotion I can’t quite name. His green eyes meet mine, warm and unguarded, and there’s a mix of tenderness and longing there that pulls me in.
Before I can think or second-guess myself, Santi tilts his head and leans down. His lips brush against mine, soft and hesitant at first, but then the kiss deepens into something much more slow and deliberate, and the noise of the crowd fades into the background. All I can feel is him: the warmth of his lips, the steady press of his body against mine, the way his hand tightens at my waist as if anchoring me to him.
My hands move instinctively, one curling into the front of his jacket while the other finds its way to the back of his neck, my fingers threading into his hair.
The moment stretches, electric and endless, until he finally pulls back. Our breath mingles, warm and a little uneven.
“I mean it,” he murmurs. “Every moment with you feels like the best one yet.”
I smile. “You’re so good at this,” I tell him.
“At what?” he asks, his lips quirking into that familiar, teasing smile.
“At making me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” I reply simply.
His smile fades slightly, replaced by something deeper, more serious.
“That’s because you are,” he says, his thumb brushing a light circle against my hip.
We stand there for a long time, his arms wrapped around me, the faint hum of the dispersing crowd and the distant crackle of fireworks blending into the night. The chaos of the city swirls around us, but here, in his arms, everything feels calm.
We finally start to make our way back towards my apartment, and Santi keeps his arm draped around me, his hand resting lightly at my hip. The mid-March air feels cooler now, but with him beside me, I don’t feel the chill. As I lean into him - my heart full and my head dizzy - I know without a doubt that this night will stay with me forever.
Chapter Seventeen
When Santi mentioned that he’d left his gym bag at the stadium, I assumed it would be a quick trip - him running in to grab it while I waited in the car.
But Santi being Santi, of course, had other ideas.
“No way am I leaving you in the car,” he’d said, flashing me that irresistible grin. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
And now, here I am, walking through the eerily quiet corridors of the stadium late in the evening, following closely behind him.
“It’s kind of creepy,” I say, my voice bouncing off the exposed brick walls and concrete floors.
The fluorescent lights above us hum faintly, casting a cold, uneven glow that gives me a horrible feeling.
Santi glances over his shoulder, his lips curving into a teasing smile.
“What, you don’t find exposed pipes and dusty corridors romantic?”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but laugh. “Not quite the glamorous world of professional sports I imagined.”
“Yeah, sorry to disappoint,” he says, slowing his pace so we’re walking side by side. “It’s not all fancy cars and champagne, you know.”
“No kidding,” I say, gesturing to the plain brick walls. “This place has the charm of a hospital basement.”
He chuckles, nudging me lightly with his broad shoulder.
“Careful, Olivia. You’ll hurt its feelings. This basement has seen some incredible moments.”
“Right. Like you forgetting your gym bag?”
He laughs, shaking his head.
“Alright, miss perfect. Point taken. Not one of my finer moments.”
As we round a corner, a security guard steps out of a shadowed alcove near one of the doors.
His posture straightens the moment he sees us, his eyes narrowing slightly as they dart between Santi and I. His uniform is crisp, and the faint clink of keys at his belt breaks the otherwise heavy silence of the corridor.
“Buenas noches,” Santi says casually, nodding at him, his voice carrying an effortless confidence.
The guard nods back, but his gaze lingers on me for longer than I’d consider polite. His expression is hard to read, a clear mixture of curiosity and something sharper. Something that makes my stomach tighten.