A decent man-a principled man-would choose to ignore the sexual tension existed. He'd respect me enough not to pursue the fleeting nonsense. He'd walk away, giving us space to breathe. Yes, in an ideal world, Juan could easily be that man, but the insufferable bastard chose to be a royal pain in the ass. "Sorry, I hope you didn't feel abandoned," he huskily said as he took the seat across me and casually placed his phone on the table before diverting his attention solely to me.
I didn't know how I felt anymore. A part of me regretted coming here tonight. Sure, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but sensing Juan's mood at the moment, the man wasn't done making me hyperaware of him. Those damning eyes, it was so explicit I could feel my nipples harden underneath the lace dress.
Jesus, I inwardly groan with frustration.
"Stop looking at me like that!" I snapped at him after a few minutes. How did one survive such explicit exploration of one's body? Yes, I was fully clothed, but his nasty eyes told me otherwise. It felt like he was probing into me, penetrating me.
What the fuck is happening? I nervously swallowed the lump in my throat before reaching for my sangria and gulping it down.
He held my gaze while he circled the rim of his wine glass. He did it in such excruciating manner that it felt as if it were my nipples he was teasing. Like that first scene we did.
"Does it bother you that I love looking at you, cariña?"
I'm thirsty, I thought with panic as I flagged the waiter and ordered another drink. This time, I ordered something with a harder kick, two martinis.
Placed in a very puzzling position, I convinced myself that hankering for a fight wouldn't be worth my time. Instead, I took my phone out and decided to check Instagram while killing time until the food arrives. The first update on my feed was River. A picture of him getting off his jet with Rock, Willa, and Phoenix following him in the background with a caption stating that they had arrived in Stockholm. Upon seeing that gorgeous face, my heart rapidly thumped in my chest.
I miss you. My eyes took in the photo with that striking smile of his.
Would he approve of me spending alone time in Barcelona with another man? I already knew the answer to that. River was territorial, and he'd gut me alive if he ever found out. He wasn't the kind of man who tolerated situations that were borderline cheating.
Like this … what I was doing now was prime example.
Even though I knew I wasn't doing anything wrong, technically, River might see it differently. He would see it differently.
With that startling thought, I decided against texting or calling him until I landed in Stockholm tomorrow. River would be too curious, and I'd rather avoid his interrogations until I got there.
Our food arrived and dinner was surprisingly a calm affair. I had expected Juan to resume goading me. But surprise-surprise, he reverted back to his jovial demeanor, as if he just hadn't rattled my little secured cage and threatened to break the barriers that protected me.
Maybe in his universe such notions were far and in between, but I regarded my relationship as high priority, no matter what he seemed to believe. He could provoke me all he liked, the result would remain unchanged. Not even his persistent flirtations could persuade me to walk over to the dark side.
With that belief refreshingly cemented back in my mind, I felt secure.
After dinner, when Juan offered to slip my killer heels back on my feet, I declined his generous offer. Boundaries needed to be blatantly set, loud and clear. This Spanish flirt wouldn't dare question or impose where he stood in my life.
I went to the nearest bench that faced away from the crowd since I was wearing such a skimpy short dress. One wrong move and the onlookers would be blessed with the sight of my cute little kitty. My lacy thong wouldn't hide much from the view coming from my behind. Strategic planning needed to be taken. It took me a little over ten minutes to accomplish it, but it was a job well done.
"Where to next?" I asked the moment the tiny shoe strap was tightly secured around my ankle.
"I'm still contemplating if we should take a cab or if I should drive." He seemed to be weighing out his options before glancing at me expectantly. "You know how to drive, right? When I drink, I have a hard time knowing when to stop."
Well, he'd be quite the designated driver, that was for sure.
"If you'll be too drunk to drive, I'll take the wheel. No biggie."
"All right. Let's head back to the garage and get the car." Juan led the way back to the apartment complex's underground garage where his red Porsche 911 glinted under the fluorescent lighting.