Damn.
“Breathe,” said Ana.
Light filled the bright room. I’d brought my own yoga mat, while he’d borrowed one. Our bare feet tied us to the floor as we moved through the poses.
Something about practicing yoga always hit me deep inside. As much as I traveled, I always knew I had my body to come home to no matter where I was in the world. If I could stay with myself, then I always could rely on myself. And I’d be okay.
But normally it was a solitary practice. With Trent right there behind me, I knew he was watching my body, and it distracted me. Before, I’d be so into my body, my breathing, that I wouldn’t focus on anything except the challenging pose.
Today, I wondered what he thought. If he liked looking at me. And enjoyed watching him, knowing how beautiful he was inside and out.
So, once again, he was distracting me from class. Only this time, I wasn’t the teacher, and we both were learning.
I’d catch his eye and follow his moves, checking out his strong legs anchored into the ground. Those legs, built and defined, made me think of how much he’d changed since he was a kid.
But even more delicious than his legs were his arms. The way veins in his forearms popped out when he held himself up. The structural form of his arms. And I knew what it felt like to be held by them.
Best of all, though, was his face, relaxed and uplifted for the first time since I’d seen him. Given his downcast eyes and drawn shoulders before, I’d somehow known how much sorrow he’d been carrying when he came to me that first day of class.
Now, he seemed to get some relief. Not a hundred percent. But yoga seemed to alleviate his suffering. While he still had something dark in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, he also had a lightness in his smile that he hadn’t shown me to date in Spain.
At the end of the forty-five minute class, he came bounding up to me. “I loved that! It’s so challenging. Trying to get all the parts of your body aligned. I know that it must chill people out, but right now, I feel more energy than I have in weeks.”
“That’s awesome! Yoga can have all sorts of effects on people, from calming their central nervous system to helping them lose weight. I think you needed to get some energy flow going. This is great.”
Ana wandered over to us and asked in Spanish, “Are you two going to join us at our weekend yoga retreat in Nerja?”
“Yes,” I answered in Spanish. “It’s gonna be awesome.”
Trent tilted his head with his elbow on my shoulder, trying to understand. “What did she ask?”
“She wanted to know if we’re going to the yoga retreat. She’s part of the group that’s putting it on.”
He bounced on his toes and grabbed me by the waist, picking me up and spinning me around.
“I can’t wait!”
His bright-eyed enthusiasm was catching. Not only did a weekend away with him sound groovy, especially since we were spending so much time together, but we needed to be able to touch each other without looking over our shoulders. He’d told me that when he left my apartment once, a student saw him. We had to be more careful.
But it was so hard. In class, I kept wanting to smile at him. I had to school my face to stay normal, not giddy from having some of the best sex of my life, with the most handsome man I’d ever known.
I’d given them the assignment to translate parts of the body. Problem was, when Trent said anything, I found myself remembering what that specific part of the body looked like on him. His sexy elbow. His delicious, lickable neck. His muscular shoulders. And other parts that we didn’t discuss in class.
Hiding what I was feeling about him from the students had been a challenge. Because I was damned if I glanced at him and damned if I didn’t. He fared no better, since I was sure at one point he got hard, because I knew the expression in his eyes—wide pupils and unblinking gorgeousness. At least it was cooler this week than last, and at least the storm between us had broken.
Rolling up my yoga mat, I asked him, “Wanna go for a run? Get the barks out?”
He grinned, confused. “Get the barks out?”
“Remember? Degan used to say that a long time ago. He needed to go exercise to get out his energy.”
Something in his eyes clicked. A memory. “I remember. Yeah. Let’s go get the barks out. Tie your shoes, and we’ll go stash your mat.”
We hustled over to his room, which was closer than mine, dropped off my stuff, and then took off.
People bustled about on this tranquil day in Granada. Stylish men and women lounged at pretty tables, drinking coffee in outdoor cafes. Mothers pushed babies in strollers to go shopping. Ancianos, older people, sat on park benches under the leafy plane trees and chatted. All in all, a pleasant day. We jogged down to the huge park at the edge of town, Parque García Lorca.
“Let’s do a few laps around the park, and then keep going,” I huffed, moving my legs fast.
As we passed the sign to the entrance of the park, Trent asked, “I’ve been running here most days, but I don’t know who this is named after. Who was Federico García Lorca?”
“A poet. He was executed at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War, rather tragically. It could have been because he was gay, or it could have been political. It’s a mystery. But he was so young, and his poetry was so beautiful. Like, ‘To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.’”
Trent rubbed a hand against his heart as he moved. “God, isn’t that the truth?”
“Or, ‘To see you naked is to recall the Earth.’”
He grinned. “I love that.”
We challenged each other as we ran. He was fast and in shape, but so was I. I just loved to run, I loved the way I didn’t feel like I got enough air, and I needed to move faster and faster.
Kind of like the way I ran from place to place. A modern nomad.
After circling the park laden with scented roses, we headed out along the perimeter of the tall, compact city.
“I haven’t been out here yet,” he said.
“Let’s go run around the bullring. Have you seen one yet?”
“A bullfight?”
“Yeah.”
“No. I haven’t even seen a bullring.”
Our feet hitting the pavement, we made our way to the large, circular bullring, painted white. Two entrances stood on either side of the ticket booths. One read, “Sol,” and one read “Sombra.”
“Why does it say that?” he asked, pointing.
“Because you can buy tickets and sit in the sun or sit in the shade. Your choice.”
He stopped running so fast I almost mowed him down. “Really?”
“It’s an ancient way of selling tickets. The ones in the sun cost less.”
Heaving with the exertion from running, he leaned over, inspecting the entrance. “Wow. I’d think they’d cost more.”
“Nope. It gets too hot in the sun.”
Bending his leg to stretch his hamstring, sweat pouring down his shirt, he said, with a far-off look in his eyes, “It’s so interesting. You can pick. You can live your life in the sun. Buy that ticket. Or you can buy a ticket to stay in the shade. But it’s your decision.”
“Right.”
Dropping to a plank position, he started doing push-ups. Easily. The muscles in his arms pushed and flexed. His shoulder blades met in his back, vigorous and bold.
“How many of those are you gonna do?” I asked.
“A lot.”
After seemingly doing a hundred of them, he bounced up, wiped off his hands, and started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, animatedly pointing at the bullring. “It’s not for you to complain about sitting in the sun if you buy a ticket there. You’re the one who chose that course of action.”
I latched on to what he was talking about. “But sometimes things happen to us that we don’t plan on. Sometimes the Universe has greater plans for us than we even know.”
Gazing down at me, he said, “I agree
. But you can still decide which ticket to buy, and how you’re gonna react.” He touched my nose. “You, Dani, you’re always buying a ticket in the sun. You want to experience everything.”
“I do.”
“I think I accidentally bought one in the shade, and I want a refund.”
A flutter in my belly rose up, making me whisper, “I’ll share my seat in the sun with you. You can have it, and I’ll sit on your lap.”
He bent down and kissed me. “Thanks.”
We stared at the entrance, which had the ripped remnants of old bullfighting advertisements plastered to the side. “Want to keep going?” I asked. But no, he was still fascinated by the bullring.
“In a minute. What do you think of bullfighting? Do you think it’s barbaric? Killing an animal for sport?”
“No. I don’t. I think it’s just part of Spanish culture. Who am I to judge? I’m an outsider. I know there are plenty of critics in Spain, especially among the younger generation. But I don’t feel like that’s up to me.”
His mouth fell open. “I figured you’d be campaigning against it. Animal cruelty or something.”
“True. I’m not a fan, but I don’t have to go. I guess I forgive the Spanish for being Spanish.”
“You allow them to be themselves?”
“Yeah.”
And I wished that I could forgive myself for being myself. For my last words to Degan.
But those weren’t something you could forgive.
The sun in our eyes, the warm breeze on our skin, and sweat dripping down our backs, we stood in front of the bullring a moment more. Then he turned to me and asked, “You still have barks in you?”
“Yep.”
“Then let’s keep going.”
Trent pressed me against the shower wall as he thrust into me, water inundating our bodies, mouth ravaging mine. My legs circled his torso, and I held on tight. We joined in union in his little bathroom down the hall, after we snuck down separately so that no one would see us.
“Don’t ever stop fucking me,” I breathed. “Don’t. Stop.”
But it was more than fucking. It was asserting that I was his. That he was living, now. That he wanted to experience everything. Everything. He wasn’t wasting time. He wasn’t hiding in the shade. And while ironically we had to tiptoe into the room, he was saying it loud and clear: we were together. He demanded it. And I demanded it right back.
My mouth latched onto his shoulder. One hand of his under my ass propped me up, supported by the wall. The other hand circled my nipple, as he filled me up from the inside, infinite pleasure, all the attention of the cosmos here. Now.
Water washing off sweat. Bodies linking. And finding each other.
I came so hard I lost all sense of time, my body quivering with the release. He followed soon after, licking my lips, holding me up, and then washing me clean.
That night I slept at his hostel in his twin bed, so connected that we were one.
My phone buzzed the next morning with a text from Lulu.
Girl. You alive? Or you getting in trouble? Check in.
I texted her back. I am, in the best way possible.
She gave me the eye roll emoji and a heart. Mr. Trouble is that good, huh?
I laughed out loud and ignored her question. Coffee soon?
Count on it.
17
Trent -- Baptism
Dani and I strolled through the central city of Granada. No plans. No agenda. Just ambling about together, peering in store windows and people-watching. Granada had plenty of opportunities for people-watching, with crowds everywhere we went, not to mention the well-manicured sights of fountains brimming with fresh water, planters full of flowers, and grocers displaying their best produce.
While I still went high alert in public places, now that I was getting to know the city, I didn’t flinch as much at every little thing. Progress.
But I still had nightmares every night. I had a scheduled Skype call with a therapist over the weekend. For now, Dani just held me while I shook from the memories of the roadside bomb.
I wished I could hold her hand now, but the chances of a student seeing us together were too great, especially this close to the school. We chanced just going for a walk, though. No harm in that.
As we walked by the historic cathedral, I asked, “Have you ever been inside?” I’d passed by it so many times a day headed to school or her apartment, but never stepped foot in it.
“Lots of times. You haven’t?”
I shook my head.
“Let’s go in. The doors are open, and everyone is invited.”
I paused. “I thought you weren’t into tradition.”
“This is more than tradition, Trent. This is historic. So many people are buried here. So many things have happened here. It’s just a great place. Check it out.”
A woman stood at the door and smiled as we stepped in. Cool air from the gray building instantly chilled us from the heat of the day.
How many hundreds of years had people worshiped in here?
Many.
I checked out the sylph by my side.
How long had I wanted to worship her?
Always.
A hush fell over us when we walked in, because a ceremony was taking place. Dressed-up people sat in rows in the front, taking up about a third of the large, soaring space. A young couple held a baby wearing a white lace gown near the altar.
“Oh, it’s a baptism,” Dani breathed. We quietly took seats in the farthest back corner and watched the ceremony begin. A rite of new life.
Exactly what I’d been doing in Spain with her—starting over. She helped me to shed my past and let a new life take me over. I’d become refreshed and renewed, transitioning from soldier to lover. And I had an altar upon which to devote myself—her body and soul.
Her glossy hair shone in the dim light of the church, her eyes focused on the activity in front of us. I barely understood the ancient incantations in Spanish, but I knew what they moved me to do. I needed to make sure Dani knew how much I adored her, since she was an angel on earth here to help me live.
The censer swung past us as a man in robes walked up to the front of the cathedral. The smoky scent of incense reminded me of Dani’s apartment.
Dani’s apartment reminded me of her.
And not just her, in general. Specifically, it reminded me of her spread out below me this morning, going over the parts of the body. Teaching me the parts of her body.
I never knew Spanish lessons could be so…interesting. I never knew that I could learn about someone else so thoroughly. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled in with a contented sigh. That messy Tinkerbell hair felt so delicate twirled around my fingertips.
Sitting in church, next to this heavenly creature, I found that I just couldn’t leave her alone. She’d been so out of reach for so long. The fact that I had permission to touch her seemed so…decadent. I never wanted to miss an opportunity to offer myself to her. To exalt her. Pulling her hand to my lips, I kissed her palm. In response, I received a radiant Dani smile. A benediction.
My eyes followed up her crossed legs to the chambray blue tunic she wore. Like a dress, belted at the waist, it was really an oversized man’s shirt that slipped off her shoulder. The edge of the skirt rode high on her thigh, teasing me. My hand crept over to her knee to her soft skin. Her breath hitched in her chest as my rough fingers grazed her upper thigh. That lovely, silky thigh. She watched my fingers, fascinated.
I glanced around. No one saw us in the back since the center of attention was at the front where the service continued in Spanish, but I couldn’t follow what was happening up there. I knew what was happening between us, though. She was becoming as integral to me as breathing.
As I always knew she would.
Footsteps sounded behind us, and immediately my hand flew back to my lap. The stained glass of the cathedral dropped colored lights on the floor.
“You turn me on, Trent Milner,” s
he whispered.
“Yeah?”
She wiggled in her seat and nodded, biting her finger. “What do you think all these people buried here would think of that?”
I dropped my voice as quietly as it would go. “If they were alive, they’d want an orgasm. That’s part of the joy of having a physical body.”
With a hand over her lips, she stifled a grin.
I wrapped her close to me, giving her a squeeze.
The ceremony continued up front. I contented myself with the perfume of her hair, the sensation of the graceful curves of her body against mine.
“I think we can sneak off,” she said. “If you want to.”
An involuntary smile spread across my face. “What are you saying?” My dick perked up.
“I’m saying I don’t think I can wait until we get back to my place.”
Yeah. I couldn’t either.
Trying not to move my head too much, I checked to see if the coast was clear. I’d scanned the room when we entered and knew there was a restroom off to the side. Holding my hand, looking around conspiratorially, she followed me in there.
I locked the door of the tiny, old-fashioned white lavatory, and in a flash, she was on her knees, unbuckling my belt, unzipping my jeans.
“Holy shit, sweetheart,” I whispered. “This isn’t what I expected.”
Her eyes went up to mine, offering herself to me. Her hot, sweet mouth rounded over my cock, over and over and over again. Up and down, working me with her hand, nuzzling my balls. Tongue swirling around my dick, suction making my eyes cross, hand getting me off.
I leaned back against the wall in awe.
But.
I pulled back and stroked myself, brushing my belt buckle with my wrist so it clinked. “You need to see what you do to me,” I whispered. “Turn around. Hold onto the sink.”
She licked her lips and gripped the white porcelain with both hands, her eyes staring in the mirror at mine.
A connection yet again transcending anything physical.
Hope that we could be together.
A dream that she was mine and always would be mine.
Sol (Love in Translation Book 1) Page 15