by Sierra Rose
“Well, it’s a pretty intense situation, dealing with your dad’s estate. I imagine he couldn’t handle it. And he knows that for better or worse, you’re the man who’s going to do what has to be done. He can count on that.”
“Yeah, but I can count on you. And that makes all the difference.” He kissed her temple and messaged his dad’s longtime assistant to hold all calls and emails because he was going out of the country for a few days.
Britt messaged Marj to let her know they were heading out for a weekend away. She left out the bit where she was going to Europe on a private jet because it seemed too much like bragging, and she also just liked keeping it private. The truth was, she got so used to keeping their relationship a secret all those weeks that it new and oddly vulnerable to even talk about it.
She stretched her legs out in front of her, relishing the broad leather couch they shared, the ample legroom. He pressed a button to summon the flight attendant and the man came with a fresh margarita on a tray for her. She giggled and accepted it.
“For my two-margaritas girl,” he said affectionately and she thought that she had probably never been happier than she was at that moment in time.
When the plane touched down in Madrid, Britt was practically bouncing with excitement. Once they had cleared customs, they climbed into the plush back seat of an elegant car that awaited them. They whizzed down the main thoroughfares past sleek skyscrapers and down narrow medieval side streets flanked with stone buildings that looked like they would be more at home in another century. They reached an elegant but unassuming building with a tiny brass plaque among the vibrant flowers denoting its status as a hotel. A uniformed bellman took their luggage and they were whisked to a room on the second floor—which would’ve been called the third floor in the US, she noted, since it was three levels above the ground floor.
Their room was sumptuous but understated. The fine details of quality were everywhere—a modern silver vase bearing a single magenta orchid as stunning as a butterfly frozen in flight, the row of chocolate truffles lined up on a mirrored tray beside the bed with its black matte silken coverlet that was somehow both sophisticated and sexy. She wanted to stretch out across that silk with nothing on, just to feel its cool slickness on her skin. Jack had been relatively quiet on the last part of the flight, but she thought he was doing okay, as if the change of scenery and their trip gave him a positive focus. Still, she didn’t want to press him or make demands. If he felt romantic, she trusted him to make the first move. Just being in the same room with him was seductive to Britt.
“Gorgeous room!” she said, reaching for a truffle. “What’s the red stuff on top?”
“Ancho chile powder. It’ll have a real kick,” he said.
Britt bit into the sweet, wowed by the sudden rush of rich dark chocolate almost coffee-like in its fullness and the spark of spicy pepper undertones. Even the chocolate was sexy in Spain, she thought a bit ruefully. She offered him a bite and his mouth closed over the tips of her fingers as he took it.
“Spicy,” he remarked. “So, want to go out for tapas? Try the local wine?”
She laughed. “Absolutely! I have a pair of high heels that have never been out on the town.”
Britt changed into a short, hot pink dress she’d brought just in case she felt her wild side come out in a foreign country, and the stilettos. Jack whistled when she came out of the bathroom, her hair tousled and tumbling over her shoulders, her dress shorter than anything he’d ever seen her in apart from the ill-advised tunic at their Ocean Club date. But where the tunic had been loose and flowy, this was tight and form fitting, showcasing the fact that Britt was all woman. She hooked her hand through his arm and they set off downtown to hit a few of the local bars.
At the first haunt, they slid into chairs at a tiny table and Jack ordered their wine by region, not color. Their free tapas arrived with the glasses of a smoky read. A plate of anchovies and a little wedge of manchego cheese sat before them on a single plate. Britt forked an anchovy, surveyed it critically to determine that its head had already been removed, and ate it gamely, its saltiness a nice foil for the rich cheese. Jack ate two and then promptly ordered raciones and tostas with jamon iberio.
“You are going to die for this ham. It’s unreal. Melts in your mouth.”
“Why is there so much sausage?”
“The pig is a cultural heavyweight, a mainstay of Spanish cuisine.” He then pointed. “Those are albondigas and this is chorizo, which I’m sure you’ve seen.”
A man next to us smiled. “It’s a testament to the edible magic, when a pig meets spices.”
They both smiled.
“I’m ready for the killer ham,” she said and sampled a wafer thin slice of Iberian jamon. “Gosh, that’s amazing!”
Britt ate two more pieces before moving on to the toasts with different toppings. Jack ate a bit but seemed more involved in watching her discover it all. They talked and laughed and he told her about the first time he went to Spain and didn’t realize you had to order food, because he thought that free tapas would feed everyone at the table.
“They were in a recession that year and you couldn’t even get free bread in most places, much less clams or anything awesome. It took a couple days of thinking I was going to shitty, cheap places before I figured out how to order. Then I had to learn where to order from. I spent some quality time learning about food poisoning that summer. Here’s a tip to take with you...never buy the cheapest razor clams you can find.” He cringed at the memory and she laughed.
At the next bar they tried mushroom croquetas and struck up a conversation with some locals about a place nearby that had live music. After the margarita and four glasses of wine, Britt was ready for the thick hot chocolate and churros at the spot with live music. They shared a bowl of hot chocolate so dense and rich that the spoon stood up in it, taking turns dunking and biting the fried cinnamon churros. Then they danced, his arm looped around her hips, to the beat of the local band. Jack looked relaxed, gorgeous, happy, and Britt wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Their kiss was explosive. After so much time apart since his dad’s death, it felt as if visible sparks ought to shoot off of their skin right there on the crowded dance floor.
Britt anchored her hands in his hair and kissed him back with a passion so fierce she was afraid for a moment of being consumed entirely, burned up into ash by her desire for Jack Fitzsimmons. His fingers bit into her hips as he held her against him and there was no mistaking the fact that he shared her desire and passion. Within seconds, he had steered her to the exit and they were kissing, pressing up against the exterior wall of the bar with Jack’s hand traveling up her thigh. Laughing, she pushed his hand away and tugged him on toward their hotel.
“It’s this way. As endearing as I think your poor sense of direction is, now doesn’t feel like the right time to humor you. Go east,” Jack teased, pulling her along in the opposite direction.
Britt hurried as much as she could, tottering along in her foolish stilettos. Jack stopped to kiss her, his tongue devouring hers. Then she squealed as he swooped her up in her arms and carried her giggling back to their hotel.
“Jack, stop! Put me down! I can walk, I swear.”
“I know you can. You’re just too slow.”
“It’s not me. It’s these shoes. They hurt.”
“They’re hot. I’m not complaining about the shoes. I just need you now and you can’t achieve my desired speed so I took matters into my own hands, so to speak.”
“I’m happy you want me again.”
“Again? When exactly did I stop wanting you?”
“I didn’t want you to feel pressure after your dad...passed away. I’ve missed you, though,” Britt said.
“I missed you as well. I thought...with everything you were having to put up with, Charlie being in town, me holing up in my apartment with some bottles of booze and a bad attitude, that it would be too much to expect that you might find me attractive still. I hope to do better, by y
ou, for us both. I want to give you my full attention and hopefully show you a good time in Madrid. I know you said you’d never been to Europe before and there’s all kinds of things I want to show you here, but the first thing I want to show you is that I still love you. More than ever, in fact,” he said as he carried her almost effortlessly to the elevator.
Chapter 13
Britt was glad he was carrying her because she felt like she might have been unable to stand, her knees weak from his romantic pronouncement. Jack did have a way with words, with expressing his emotions like no other man she’d ever been with. By the time he set her gently down on her feet, sliding her along his body in the elevator, Britt was beyond ready for his touch.
In their hotel room, Jack barely took an instant to lock the door before he stepped toward her, looming over her in the sexiest way possible...his height, the width of his powerful shoulders, his sheer size and musculature dwarfing her until she felt small and feminine, and ready to be consumed. He licked his lips, looking for all the world like he was the big bad wolf and she gave a nervous giggle, wanting him so much but feeling almost shy. With one finger, he deftly slid down the strap of her dress and put his mouth on her bare shoulder. The heat of his mouth and his tongue on her flesh ignited her every sense, set her nerve endings humming with the thrill of his touch.
Jack slid down the zipper at the back of her dress, his warm fingertips brushing against her skin as he dragged the zipper down. He pushed her dress to the floor, the hot pink fabric pooling at her feet as he hooked his fingers in her panties and slipped them down as well. She stepped out of both, leaving her stilettos on as he covered her bare breasts with his hands. He palmed her nipples as she unbuttoned his black shirt and pushed it open so she could rub against his bare flesh with her own. Down went his jeans and boxer briefs in one and he kicked off his shoes. He was strong, lean, incredibly gorgeous, and the hue of his tanned skin reminded her of nothing so much as that dulce de leche ice cream she used to overindulge in back in her college days, with its rich ribbon of caramel. She licked her lips involuntarily and he captured her mouth with his hungrily. Together, their tongues danced as Jack’s ever so talented hands went to work on her already tight nipples.
She was panting and pulling him toward the bed, frantic and desperate. He pulled away from her, dipped down to take a condom from his jeans pocket. Then he rose back up part of the way, his lips on her stomach, working their way up to her breasts. She moaned loudly as his mouth closed over her nipple and he backed her up to the bed. Jack ripped open the foil and sheathed himself, wrapping her ankles around his neck as he stood beside the bed.
“You’re mine, Britt,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I’m never letting you go.”
He worked his hands down the length of her smooth legs little by little until he tugged her hips to the edge of the bed and thrust into her. Soon he was within her to the hilt and she was pushing her hips toward him, meeting his strokes. She couldn’t hold out long before the inexorable movement of their bodies together drove her over the edge of madness with a shriek. He soon followed her, collapsing onto the black silk cover beside her, easing her legs down with infinite care.
He kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheek and her lips as if he could never get enough of her. He whispered half-understood words against her hair as she clung to him. Kicking off her shoes, she crawled to the pillows and slithered beneath the covers, chilled by the power of her release. He joined her, his arms going round her protectively. She trembled, burrowing close to him as if she might never get warm.
“I need you in my life, Britt. Thank you for being with me, for not giving up.”
Without a word, a tear slipped down Britt’s cheek. She hid her face in his shoulder, embarrassed by her outburst of emotion.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing I’m just...happy,” she said.
He laughed, cradling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head.
“I love you. I may have overestimated your ability to handle margaritas and wine and chocolate all on the same night, though,” he chuckled indulgently.
Britt slept and woke and found herself still in Spain in a lovely hotel room with an even lovelier man whose kisses made her forget every doubt she’d ever had in her adult life.
Chapter 14
Jack took her to the Sorolla Museum and spoke to her about Spanish Impressionism and then bought her a beautiful hand painted silk scarf at the museum shop while she was debating which postcard to buy. They went to the Prado, just because Jack insisted that no one should visit Spain without experiencing one of the greatest museums on earth. Still, after loving every single piece of art in the Sorolla, Britt was a little overwhelmed by every Goya and El Greco packed in beside the Rubenses at the Prado. She was willing to acknowledge that the Spaniards possessed some excellent artwork but that she wasn’t up to seeing absolutely all of it in one day. Jack laughed and led her to the exit.
Scarf at her throat, Britt settled in at a sidewalk café with a splendid midday daiquiri and felt soothed by the atmosphere, the buildings and people so different from what she was accustomed to see every day back at home.
“Do you think you have enough energy to go shopping or did all the art exhaust you?” he teased.
“I always have energy for shopping, Jack. I promise. Especially in a European capital.”
“Good because I want to spoil you a little. Or a lot. We’re heading to Salamanca.”
“Sounds like a kind of lizard to me,” she joked.
“It’s the home of the golden mile. The most exclusive shopping street in Madrid. Trust me,” he said.
Soon, Britt found herself in a whirlwind of the most beautiful, sumptuous things she’d ever seen. Every international designer name she knew...and several she wasn’t even familiar with...seemed to have an outpost here. She breathed in the rarefied leather scent of the Hermes shop, not even daring to touch anything before backing bashfully out the entrance. Jack urged her to go back in, to choose something, but she felt out of place. At Versace, each piece seemed too boldly sexual, too striking for her to try on in a fitting room, much less to wear in public. She smiled sweetly at Jack and asked if they could possibly go to a different street, something less lavish and more her style.
A few blocks over they found a little side street with boutiques, quirky and unique with bright fabrics and layers of chunky necklaces layered on the mannequins. Grinning, Britt ducked in to the first one and within minutes she had on a black moto style jacket in light soft wool with fierce silver embroidery at the cuffs. A pair of gold leather ankle boots. A red and gold enamel bracelet. They left the boutique with three big shopping bags and Britt walked out wearing a pale coral silky tunic with bronze beading over a pair of very short shorts. Jack kissed her.
“Thanks,” he said off-handedly. “For letting me spoil you. That was fun. I hate that I made you uncomfortable with the golden mile.”
“No, it wasn’t you. That’s just not me. Three thousand dollar shirts that look like...a normal shirt? I mean, sure the red carpet gowns and the fancy purses, they’re really special and worth it, but when people pay a ton of money for, like, a pair of jeans, I just don’t get it.”
“I see you prefer something unique,” he said, indicating the beaded fringe at the hem of her tunic.
“Say what you will about my beads. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen back home. It’s special. It says Spain to me.”
“How about something to eat? Those mushroom croquetas say Spain to me.”
“Do you think they have pizza anywhere? I mean it’s really close to Italy, geographically, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is my little American. I’m sure we can find you some pizza in Madrid if you prefer that to the squid.”
“I prefer practically anything over the squid,” she grimaced and he laughed.
“What about the ham? You liked the ham.”
“Yes, I love the ham,” she admitt
ed. “But it’s really getting hot out here.”
“Siesta time, babe,” he said, grinning.
Chapter 15
Back at the hotel, Jack took her hands and kissed her.
“Can we talk?”
“We are talking,” she said a little nervously. “It is just that every time a man has ever announced that he wanted to talk to me, it was because he was about to break up with me.”
“Not a chance. I just need to get this off my chest,” he said.
Out on their balcony a bottle of cava was chilling in a bucket and he poured her a glass.
“The thing is, I do have these obligations. All these companies and real estate investments and the plane and some boats...you would not believe how many boats that man had.” He shook his head affectionately. “And some of it I’ll sell. I don’t know what to do because, in a way, the only thing I’m concerned with at the consulting firm—which is the smallest of his companies by the way—is whether you want it to stay open. Because as far as I’m concerned, I’d just shut it down. It’s not a project that interests me, it’s a time sucker. So I wondered what your opinion was.”
“Well, Jack, it’s my livelihood, along with a lot of other people who are friends of mine. It’s not like I’m going to say, sure go ahead and shut it down. If you don’t want to screw with it, can’t you just hire someone to run the place for you? I mean, I can find another job. I’m sure we all could in time, but—I don’t want you to shut it down. Please don’t. I’m begging you.”
“Not to be arrogant, but you don’t need a job anymore.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I have enough money for us both. For us and about twenty-five other people to tell the truth. Not to mention the recording contract and the software design.”
“That’s you, Jack. Not me. I mean, good for you. I don’t resent the fact that you have a lot of money. I just don’t intend for you to support me.”
“Good. Because I intend for you to support me. Exactly the way you’ve been doing since my dad got sick. I couldn’t have made it through any of this without you. You’ve devoted all this time and energy to me and that’s worth a lot. That makes my life possible, and that makes you a useful agent of the corporation who can draw a salary.”