“That sounds amazing,” Lily says, putting on sunglasses and glancing around with excited interest already.
“Just you wait,” I promise her with a grin.
We tour the most interesting sights in all of Madrid, the things that I see every day and take for granted. It’s always fascinating to see these things through the eyes of a visitor vicariously, to remember that these things around me every day are interesting and worthy of attention. But somehow, I can’t seem to look at the monuments at all. I can’t take my eyes away from Lily, from the excitement and the joy on her face, her clean and innocent enjoyment of each new thing just as much as the others.
She doesn’t seem to tire, her youthfulness, I suppose, is a match for my fitness. I can’t help being fascinated by her, by her enthusiasm. We fall into easy conversation as we walk the route I planned out, and even with time set aside for her to admire these new sights at each stop, we easily stick to the schedule I had planned out in my head.
How does she manage to be so perfectly everything that I needed?
As the day begins to draw to a close, the sun coming down, it’s time to take her for a real tapas experience, I think, and one that she can enjoy to the fullest. There is a lively tapas bar I know of not too far from where we end the city tour, and I lead her there, determined that tonight I will win her heart. With a bag full of souvenirs, picked up for family and friends with endless thought for others, we find a table in the packed space, which is full of music and conversation, laughter, and bright colors, a far cry from the sophisticated restaurant of last night. I want to show her both sides of Madrid, the lively people, and the luxury that my money can buy for her.
I hope that she will see both sides of me, the businessman and the caring one, the one who will give her anything she asks for to have her by my side.
And I know that she will have the chance to see them both over the next few days because I have less than a week to make her mine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lily
Dinner is much more relaxed than last night, and I have to say that it is just as enjoyable. Really, I can’t imagine that it would ever be anything but enjoyable to be somewhere at Enrique’s side. Even just the way he is, his casual charm and confidence, means that every experience is wonderful. I think I could sit by him at a boring business meeting with endless slideshows of financial reports, and still be able to say that I had a good time.
He looks after me at every step, making sure that I have what I need, opening doors for me like a gentleman, always checking that I’m having fun. I keep thinking that I must be in a dream. What other man would look after me this well?
The atmosphere in the tapas bar is lively and fun, and I can’t help but keep glancing around at what is happening. Groups of friends chattering in rapid-fire Spanish, only about every fifth word of which I understand, laughing and cheering, drinking together and eating their small dishes. I love it here. But still, my attention is always drawn back towards Enrique.
I feel like I’m falling in love with this city, thanks in no small part to the way he’s shown me around, a mixture of the tourist attractions with the real heart of Madrid. The only danger is that I feel as though I might be falling in love with something else, too. And I don’t mean the food.
“Are you satisfied?” he asks me, and it takes a moment for the words to connect with my brain.
“What?”
“With your food?” he smiles. “I mean to say, are you finished?”
I look down at the scattered empty plates, alongside empty glasses of virgin cocktails, and smile. “Yes, thank you. Dinner was lovely.”
“I’ll pay, then,” Enrique says. “It’s getting hot in here. Why don’t you wait outside?”
I nod, pleased with the suggestion. It really is getting warmer in here, to the point of being altogether too hot, and the cool evening air will be much more comfortable. I slip outside and stand near the entrance of the bar, waiting for Enrique to come out.
A group of young men, probably only a little bit older than I am, are coming along the street toward me, and something in me automatically tenses up. I try to look away from them so as not to catch their attention, but they are quickly close to me, and the man at the forefront of their group sneers something at me in Spanish.
I don’t understand him at all. Not only is he speaking fast, but his words sound slurred, probably by whatever he drank at the last stop. I’ve heard that in Spain it’s common to hop between tapas bars all evening, and I have no doubt that these boys have already been hopping for some time tonight.
I look at him blankly and shake my head, unable to guess what he might have said. He only laughs, high and intoxicated, and moves closer, making me back away nervously until I hit the wall.
“American, huh?” he says, and I unwittingly nod, wishing I didn’t have to answer him at all. “Ah, good. You Americans so easy. Come with us, right? We will show you good time. You want good time with me?”
“No,” I say, wishing I had further back to move. This man is right up in my face, stinking of cheap beer and seafood, and I have nowhere to go. His friends gather around us in a loose circle, not exactly fencing me in, but making me feel like they might move to stop me if I tried to leave.
“No?” the man grabs his crotch with a sneer, moving in so close his hand brushes my thigh as he moves it up and down. “You want this? Come on, American girl, you can have it. Let’s go somewhere.”
“No!” I say, as forcefully as I can manage. “Leave me alone. I’m here with someone.”
“She doesn’t want it,” one of his friends’ sniggers, triggering the rest of them to mutter in Spanish and laugh.
“It’s fine,” he says, tossing a derogatory gesture at me without moving away. “This fat perra, I don’t want her anyway. Who wants her? Ugly puta.”
I hope fervently that they’ll leave now, their insults flooding my face with heat, my eyes filling with tears. But they won’t go. Their ringleader is still standing right in front of me, almost trapping me against the wall.
What will they do to me if I don’t get away from here fast?
CHAPTER NINE
Enrique
“That’s not very gentlemanly,” I say, in Spanish for their benefit and so that Lily won’t understand everything I say. I growl the words, making sure that these youths can hear the threat in them. I only overheard the very last part of their exchange, but it’s enough. I can easily guess at the rest.
“Oh, tough man!” One of them, the one closest to Lily and who just insulted her, laughs. “The action hero is here to save the day, boys!”
“If you push me, I may just have to do that,” I say. “Step away from her if you know what’s good for you.”
“Her?” There’s raucous laughter from the ringleader and his friends. “This bitch is your girl? You can do a lot better, man, just leave her for us.”
I’ve heard enough. These kinds of boys only speak one language, and I’m happy to translate for them. They aren’t going to back off and leave Lily alone, not without decisive action.
So, I take it. I lunge forward and grab the kid by the throat, so fast he has no chance to resist in his inebriated state. I draw my fist back and punch him in the face, hearing his nose crunch satisfyingly under my hand.
When I let go of him, he drops to the floor, crying out in pain and shock. His nose pouring blood. Good. That’s how it should be.
“Are you alright?” I ask Lily, holding out my arm to encourage her to come to me. She slips past the guy on the floor, his friends quietly drifting away, backing off and eyeing me nervously. They won’t try anything else. They’re drunk enough and stupid enough to take pause, and just smart enough not to want to end up like their friend.
“Yes,” Lily says, her voice shaking. I slide my arm around her shoulders and feel her body shaking, too. I press her close against my side as I lead her away, out into the night and away from those young thugs.
“Come
on,” I say, holding her tightly. “I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
At first, I think that perhaps the night has been ruined. After what had been a lovely day, she’s confronted with the worst kind of Spaniards, stupid boys who do nothing for the reputation of our city. She was afraid, possibly even for her life, and insulted, and I had to wade in and swing my fists, giving her a nice display of violence to boot. Will she trust me now? Is she afraid of me, too?
She’s stiff and trembling at my side, but then it happens. Against my expectations, she begins to relax into my touch and makes no move to pull away. The danger is behind us, we’re far from the scene of the incident, and she seems to have calmed down but still, she leans into me, into my arm, as if she still wants it now though she no longer needs it.
And I feel a surge of hope that it might still be possible to actually make this happen. That I might not have scared her off.
CHAPTER TEN
Lily
My heart won’t stop pounding in my chest. First, it was the fear coupled with the pain, the way those boys spoke to me, and how they made me feel. There was shame, too, because I know that Enrique heard what they said about me, how they called me fat and ugly. I don’t know if he agrees.
The sight of him punching that guy, dropping him to the floor, made my heart race even further. This show of violence and strength was a little frightening, but more than that. The fact that he did it for me, to defend me, had my blood racing, heat pooling in my stomach. And with his arm around me, all my nerves are singing, trying to get even closer to him, my thoughts unable to drift away from our close contact even as we walked through the city.
With the fear behind me, all that remains is the heat I felt from his defense and the stuttering beat of my nervous heart at being so close to him. I seem to fit under his arm perfectly, just the right height against his tall frame, and it makes me want this to never end. But as the hotel appears insight at the end of the street we are walking down, I feel a trembling in my chest. This is it, the moment when he will let go of me and this closeness will end.
I don’t want it to stop. But what can I say?
I’m relieved that, just like before, Enrique escorts me to the elevator and up to the door of my room, and it’s only then that I realize he’s still carrying the bag full of souvenirs for me. I gasp and reach for them, but Enrique only smiles, holding them firmly.
“I’ll carry them inside for you,” he says. “I want to make sure that you’re alright, after what happened earlier.”
I nod and smile hesitantly, so nervous at the thought of him being inside my same room with me. I open the door and head inside, letting him follow me. I watch as he places the bag down on a desk at the far side of the room, the door shutting behind him and the lock automatically engaging, and my heart still won’t stop pounding its rapid beat.
“It’s not a bad room,” Enrique says, looking around. And he’s right, it’s not. A king sized bed, a desk, a chair, a mini-fridge with snacks, and sample sized drinks completes it. The window looks down onto a pretty Madrid street, and it’s close enough to most things I would want to do here for me to walk.
And with Enrique here, I can’t help but think that the room is better than ever.
I’m seized with a sudden boldness, born more out of desperation than confidence. I don’t want him to go. Not like last night. And he seems to be delaying as if looking for a reason to stay. Maybe he’s only worried about me, but I will take whatever reason I can get. “Would you like to get some room service?” I ask. “I mean – maybe not food, since we already ate, but – a drink? Or even dessert?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Enrique says, nodding at me and looking around for the menu. “What would you like to get?”
We settle on a couple of slices of cheesecake, something comforting from home rather than a traditional Spanish dish, and some ice cream. It’s only double chocolate, not my favorite kind, but it will do in a pinch. I’m touched that he remembered what I said about it being my favorite comfort food, and as I sit down on the side of the bed, I can still feel my heart thundering in my chest.
Enrique finishes his call to the reception to place our order and sits down next to me, so close that I can feel the heat of his body. I wonder what to do. I want something to start between us, but I’ve never been in this position before. What can I do? What should I say? How do I make the first move, before he leaves again and the chance is gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Enrique
I sit close to Lily on purpose, sensing something tense in her, something deep that I don’t think was there before. It calls to me like a moth to a flame, recognized by the same feeling inside of me, the heat and desire.
I feel that she wants me, but I also have to be sure. After what just happened to her, I don’t want her to see me as just another man taking advantage of her, seeing her as an easy target. No, I have to know that she wants this too. I look up at her face, shifting my body subtly toward her, resting my hand on the bed to support myself. I let my eyes trail over her face, not bothering to hide the naked desire on my own.
Finally, she looks around and meets my gaze, and seems arrested by what she sees there. Her lips part on an intake of breath, and I know she sees how my eyes flick down towards her mouth, how I want her. There’s a magnetism in her as well, and as I look up again I see that her eyes are on my mouth too, and I know that I see my chance.
I lean forward, my hand going around to the back of her head, holding her as I press my lips tight against hers, claiming her mouth, sliding my tongue across her lips until they part further and allow me inside. She doesn't stiffen up against me, remaining relaxed, moaning gently as she kisses me back. I feel the heat like a direct jolt of power to my groin, making me instantly hard for her, making me want to touch every inch of her at once.
I deepen the kiss and slide my other hand to her waist, pulling her closer against me. It’s no good. At this angle, sitting beside one another, we simply can’t get close enough. I need contact with as much of her body as I can manage, pressed tightly against her, feeling every curve of her flesh. I slowly push her back to the pillows until she is lying down, unresisting, still lost in our kiss.
I break from her only momentarily to adjust myself over the top of her, lining our bodies up together. I prop myself on my elbows above her, lowering my mouth for another deep and intimate kiss, then move one hand down across her body, touching her breasts through her clothes, only briefly, then down.
“Wait,” Lily gasps, panting for breath as she breaks from our kiss. I freeze instantly, unsure of what is wrong. Has she changed her mind? I won’t ever force her, even if it would be a great disappointment to stop.
“What is it?”
“I…” Lily starts and then takes a breath. Her cheeks are flushed, from the excitement or from what she is about to say, I can’t tell. “I thought you ought to know, first...I’m a virgin.”
I stare at her for a long moment. Is it possible? Such a beautiful woman but then, I forget, she is still young. Only twenty. The story that most Americans lose their virginity as teenagers is partly a myth. Many of them wait, for reasons known to themselves. Religion, or lack of suitable partners, or a late blossoming. It’s not unusual. I should not have assumed.
I’m about to question her further when there’s a knock at the door, and I remember. Of course. The room service. I get up quickly, adjusting myself and, with some mental effort, diminishing the size of my erection, and rush to answer it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lily
I can’t believe I said it – what was I thinking? I shouldn’t have said a thing. We could have just carried on and everything would have been totally fine. But no, I had to tell him that I’ve never done this before. Now he probably thinks I’m some kind of freak, that the boys outside the bar were right, that I’m an ugly, fat girl who no one wants.
I may not have been unable to understand every word they said, but I
could understand their laughter well enough. And even though Enrique reacted with cold fury, it could have been only out of a sense of duty and protection of a daughter’s friend. Any chance I may have had no doubt just vanished along with my words into the air – and with Enrique rushing to the door.
I sit up quickly, rearranging my clothes, making sure that everything is covered. My face is burning. What was I thinking? Why did I have to ruin everything? Enrique returns from the door with a tray bearing our food and drinks, but I can barely look at him.
He sets the tray down on the desk and turns back to me, and I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I could just disappear.
“Lilita,” he says, softly, calling my attention. I can’t not look at him. Not when he says my name like that. He sits beside me again, just as we were before. “It’s alright.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, closing my eyes and wishing I was anywhere else. If I could go back five minutes and change what I said, I would. “I shouldn’t have said…”
“Of course, you should,” Enrique says. His hand on the side of my face making me open my eyes. “Lilita, I needed to know. This isn’t right.”
I seek out the floor instead of his gaze. “I just… I’m sure I can still…” I try, looking for something to say to convince him that we can still do this. But nothing comes to mind. I’ve messed it all up.
“It’s not right. Your first time should be special,” Enrique says, interrupting me. “Here, in a hotel room, with no fanfare, no build-up? Lilita, I won’t do that to you. You deserve only the best. Give me another day, and I’ll give you the special day that you deserve. What do you say?”
I stare at him in surprise. “You mean… you still want…?”
Madrid With Dad's Best Friend: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 3
