The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 154

Ah, hello, new favorite limb.

“Morning,” he rasped. His voice was thick with sleep, begging me to snuggle into him.

“Mmm,” I managed to answer.

It was terribly rude of me, but I was busy with more important stuff. Like learning every inch of his chest

with my hands. Or the abs that topped his stomach. And that narrow trail of dark hair. Yes, I needed to

get well acquainted with that too.

“Your parents are picking us up soon,” he told me almost breathlessly.

“Yep.” I was aware. “But one hour is sixty minutes, and if we manage to pack our suitcases in five and

shower in … three? That leaves us with fifty-two whole minutes.” Time I was planning to spend learning

more of Aaron’s body. “One can do many things with so many minutes. It’s all about time

management.”

My fingers continued their pathway down, down, down. Finally closing around his length. Aaron pushed

his hips up into my palm.

“Baby.” The word sounded strangled. But I continued palming his hardness up and down. “Do you want

to kill me?” Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

He kept asking me that as if I had the answer.

“No?” I rasped, my focus completely gone. “Yes?”

His hips thrust into my hand again.

“What was the question?”

Aaron groaned, and his hand came to rest on the small of my back, pulling me to his side—hard—

making me straddle his hip. Unconsciously, instinctively, I rocked against him, looking for release. Just

like Aaron was doing into my hand.

At that moment, I was starting to consider the possibility of forgetting about my suitcase, my parents,

our flights back, work, life, and basically anything outside this bed. Anything that wasn’t Aaron. I simply

didn’t care enough.

And the next thing I knew, we were up in the air. Well, I was.

With my body in his arms, Aaron crossed the distance to the en suite bathroom in a few long strides.

He turned the shower on without placing me on the floor.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but fifty-two minutes is not nearly enough time for what I want to

do to you. So, we’ll need to multitask,” he explained, placing me under the stream of hot water. His

eyes roamed up and down my body, hunger obscuring the blue in them.

“Time management and multitasking,” I told him, watching him step inside the shower with me. “You

have an impressive résumé, Mr. Blackford.”

His hands came to rest on my hips. The grip of his fingers demanding. Desperate. “And I don’t shy

away from a challenge. Please add that in there too.” His body pressed mine against the cold and

smooth tiles. “I’ll just have to make you come with my tongue while we shower.” My new favorite word

peeked out, traveling along his lower

lip.

Hot fucking damn.

“And maybe again while we pack. All of it under fifty-two minutes. But I’m pretty sure I’ll manage.”

Oh boy. And did he ever.

Against all odds, we had made it on time.

Turned out that Aaron’s soft skills were really that impressive.

My parents drove us to the airport with more than enough extra time to have breakfast in the terminal

before boarding.

Once in the plane, Aaron’s arm draped around my shoulders, and I snuggled right into his side. My

head rested into the crook of his neck, his delicious scent engulfing me and causing a multitude of

happy sighs to leave my lips. The feeling of this new sense of normalcy that had been born between us

calmed me enough to knock me out, even before takeoff.

It wasn’t until we touched American ground that a familiar alarm went off in my head. The conversation.

If I were smart, I would have used that large amount of time we had been confined in the same space

to have one. We needed to draw lines, to define and box whatever this thing between us was. To …

decide what to do about it. Because while I wouldn’t normally feel that kind of pressure, Aaron wasn’t

just anybody. He wasn’t a man I had started casually dating or one I had had a night of amazing, mind-

blowing sex with. He was Aaron. My Aaron. My work colleague. Soon, my boss. And that screamed to

take a different approach to this. Whatever he wanted it to be. Whatever we wanted to make it.

But for that, we needed to talk.

His hand came to rest at the small of my back, his thumb brushing a circle over my T-shirt. I looked up

at him, finding his gaze already on me. Damn, those eyes of his were quickly becoming my favorite

thing in the world. Even more so than triple-chocolate brownies.

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