Wallbanger(96)

as I inhaled and then held my breath.

As his fingers gently grazed my nipple, every nerve ending in my entire body reversed and began to pulse in that direction. I exhaled, feeling

months of tension begin to simultaneously flow out of me and build up even more. With sweet kisses and soft touches, he began the process of

getting to know my body, and it was exactly what I needed. Lips, mouth, tongue—al of it on me, tasting, stroking, feeling, and loving.

As his lips closed around my breast, his hair tickled my chin in the cutest way, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. The

feeling of his skin against mine was perfection, and something I’d never experienced before. I felt…worshipped.

As we explored that night, what started out as funny and cute and part of our classic banter became something more. What was crassly cal ed

“under the shirt action” became part of a romance, and something that could have been merely physical became something emotional and pure.

And when he cradled me to him, bringing me into his nook with tender kisses and breathless giggles, we fel into a contented sleep.

Flaily and Mr. Snorey Pants.

For the next two days, I luxuriated. Truly, there isn’t another word in the English language to articulate the experience I indulged in. Now for

some, the definition of a luxurious vacation might be endless shopping, spa pampering, expensive meals, elaborate shows. But to me, luxurious

meant spending two hours napping in the sun on the terrace off the kitchen. Luxurious meant eating figs dripping with honey and dotted with

crumbles of local cheese while Simon poured me another glass of Cava, al before ten a.m. Luxurious meant time alone to wander through the

smal , family stores of Nerja, poking through bins of beautiful lace. Luxurious meant exploring the nearby caves with Simon while he photographed,

losing ourselves in the colors under the earth. Luxurious meant gazing at Simon dangling from a rock face while he searched out another foothold,

shirtless. Did I mention shirtless?

And luxurious most certainly meant that I got to spend each night in that bed with Simon. Now that’s a priceless luxury, not offered on every

grand tour. We rounded another base or two, teasing each other with a little over-the-panties encounter. Were we being ridiculous, waiting until the

last night in Spain to consummate this “thing”? Probably, but who the hel cared? He spent almost an hour kissing every inch of my legs one night,

and I spent about the same amount of time having a conversation with his bel y button. We just…enjoyed.

But with al this enjoyment came a certain amount of, wel , how shal we say, nervous energy?

Back in San Francisco, we’d spent months engaged in verbal foreplay. But now, here? The actual foreplay? It was not to be believed. My body

was so in tune with his, I knew when he walked into the room, and I knew when he was about to touch me, seconds before he did. The air between

us was sexual y charged, vibes zinging back and forth with enough energy to light up the entire town. Sexual chemistry? Had it. Sexual frustration?

On the rise and getting close to critical.

Oh, hel , I’l say it. I was H-O-R-N-Y.

Which was why after we spent the afternoon in the caves, we found ourselves in the kitchen, kissing madly. We were both a little tired from the

day, and I’d been wanting to test out that beautiful Viking range. I was preparing vegetables for the gril and stirring some saffron rice when he came

in after a shower. It’s almost impossible for me to explain the sight of him: worn white T-shirt, faded jeans, barefoot, scrubbing at his wet hair with a

towel. He grinned, and I began to see double. I literal y couldn’t see through the haze of lust and need I suddenly felt surge through me. I needed my

hands to be on his body, and I needed it to happen immediately.

“Mmm, something smel s good. Want me to get the gril started?” he asked, walking over to where I was chopping vegetables at the counter.

He stood behind me, his body only inches from mine, and something snapped. And it wasn’t just the pea pod I was holding…

I turned around, and my tummy actual y fluttered at the sight of him. It freaking fluttered. I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling the strength

there and the warmth of his skin through the cotton. Reason waved bye-bye, and this was now purely physical. An itch that needed to be scratched,

scratched, and then scratched again. I slid my hand up around the back of his neck, and pul ed him down to me. My lips crashed against his, my

intense need for him pouring into his mouth and down to the tips of my toes. Toes that kicked off their flip-flops and started shamelessly rubbing

themselves across the tops of his feet. My body needed to feel skin, any skin, and needed it now.