Page 40 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Eight Months Before the Wedding

After dropping Sam off at his place and declining his invitation to come in for a “nightcap,” I make a quick stop at my condo to squeeze out of my Spanx and change into clothes comfortable enough to kick Javi’s ass in.

I slip on a pair of flip-flops—bypassing the Havaianas for the Kenners since I’m aiming for agility—and grab my car keys off the entryway table.

In the elevator, I cross my arms over my chest and repeatedly tap my foot. I am empty-your-entire-bladder pissed at Javi. The gall of that man. He was rude to Sam, was snippy with me, and added absolutely nothing to the admittedly stilted and inane dinner conversation.

Okay, fine, Sam isn’t the most alluring person I’ve ever dated, but that’s precisely the point of the pact.

Javi is supposed to act as the gatekeeper.

Suss the guy out and give me his thoughts after the meal.

Instead, Javi was ornery from the moment he sat down, and I cannot for the life of me understand what bug crawled up his butt and died there.

Once at the hotel, I stomp over to the check-in desk and ask the clerk to let Javi know I’m here. After the clerk directs me to room 303, I bang on the door.

“Hang on, damn,” I hear Javi shout from inside the room.

He swings the door open, his bare chest staring back at me, a towel hung around his shoulders. In seconds, I take in the jaw-dropping sight before me: his pecs, his chiseled arms, the abs, the happy trail that disappears beneath his navy joggers.

I walk past him and whirl around. “I am so mad at you right now.”

“Why?” he says on a chuckle. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You were an ass tonight.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he closes the door. “Your date was an ass. You know that, right?”

“That’s the point of all this, Javi. He seemed like a decent guy, so when he asked me out, I said yes. And this is where you’re supposed to come in. Instead, you seemed entirely put out by the whole thing. As if you didn’t want to be bothered.”

“Because I didn’t want to be bothered,” he says, flinging the towel onto a nearby armchair.

“That guy doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.

” He presses his palms together in a pleading gesture.

“You gotta help me out here, Mari. You are the first line of defense. There’s a floor, and that guy was well below it. ”

“You could tell all that in the three minutes you spared to even speak with him?”

“I could tell the moment he snapped his fingers to get our server’s attention.”

“Oh yes,” I huff, pacing in front of the door. “We mustn’t forget about Amanda.”

He draws back, his brows knitted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You were fawning over her. It was embarrassing.”

“I said maybe ten words to her the whole night.”

“You said a lot more with your eyes. The poor woman didn’t deserve to be ogled like that.”

“I don’t even remember what our server looked like,” he says, scrubbing the back of his head. “I assure you, I wasn’t ogling anyone. But it’s interesting that you were paying such close attention.” Then he laughs. Actually laughs.

I’m so angry, I’m practically vibrating, and my skin feels three sizes too small for my body.

I don’t like this. I’m not myself tonight.

And I’m so close to saying something we’ll both regret.

“You know what? It was a mistake coming here. I’m leaving.

And forget about helping me with the bookshelf.

I think we both need to cool off and pick this up when we’ve calmed down. ”

Javi throws up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. “I’m already calm. You’re the one who’s blowing things out of proportion. The truth is, I’m the one who should be upset, but I’m trying to salvage what I can of this trip.”

I draw back. “Oh, really? And why should you be upset?”

“Because apparently you’ve been talking about me with everyone.”

“Everyone who?” I ask, frowning.

“Jeremy.”

“He visited my firm,” I say, unable to keep the exasperation out of my voice. “We both know you. Of course you’d come up.”

“Well, it didn’t sound like a ‘hey, how’s Javi doing’ conversation. You apparently talked about the nudge I needed to finish the musical.”

I slap my hands against my sides. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not a fucking project, Mari,” he says, bending to meet my gaze head-on. “You don’t have to fix me. Improve me. It’s as if finishing this musical is more important to you than it is to me. Why would that be?”

“Because it matters to you, Javi. That’s all. I want you to be happy, and I get the sense that you aren’t.”

He chews on his bottom lip, studying me in silence while I try not to squirm. After a few tense beats, he blows out his cheeks. “Fine. Then what about Sam?”

“He asked about the person he was meeting for dinner. We weren’t talking about you for any other reason.”

“So it never occurred to you that Sam might be interested in funding the musical?”

“Not at all. There’s nothing to fund.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches.

I regret the words as soon as I say them, but part of me wonders if Javi needs a bit of tough love. Or am I just trying to make myself feel better? “Sorry, I didn’t mean it—”

He stops me with a hand. “No, you were right. We should pick this up another time.”

“Fine,” I say, striding to the door. I turn back.

Javi’s standing there, shoulders slumped as he stares at the floor.

“Javi, I don’t think you realize how much I care for you.

No matter what you say, no matter what you do, there’s this core part of me that wants everything for you because I think you deserve it.

Problem is, I can’t want everything for you if you don’t want it for yourself. ”

“Wait,” he says, placing his palm against the door to stop me from opening it.

I spin around and stare up at him. “What?”

“Let’s not do this,” he says, caressing my jaw. “This isn’t us.”

After a few beats of tense silence, I clip him on his shoulder. “God, I could just kill you sometimes.”

He presses a kiss against my forehead. “Pero te quiero.” He kisses a cheek, then the other.

“Para siempre.” He approaches—for a peck on the nose, I suspect—but I meet his mouth instead.

Javi takes in a sharp breath against my lips.

Slowly, as if he’s giving me a chance to consider where this is headed, his hands slide to my backside as he deepens the kiss.

But I don’t want to think, I just want to feel .

My hands roam everywhere: his shoulders, his back, his waist, his ass.

I squeeze him there. He hisses and drops to his knees, his head resting against my belly as he pulls down my leggings. I step out and kick off my chinelos.

Javi presses his lips against my mound, then looks up at me.

His intense gaze doesn’t leave mine as his fingers slip under my panties.

He dips inside, moans in satisfaction, and pulls out, showing me my arousal.

“So. Fucking. Ready.” He brings his hand to his mouth and closes it around a single digit, then licks it clean, his eyes closed.

I’m blissed out on desire, impatient and needy, strung so tight that I’m panting.

Javi’s lips skim my stomach as he tugs off my underwear, his big hands stroking me reverently.

“Come here,” I whisper, pulling him up from his crouched position. “I need to touch you.” He attacks my mouth as if it’s his last meal; I attack his sweatpants as though they’re keeping me from mine. With his joggers at his thighs, I grip him, reveling in the way his cock swells in my hand.

“Fuck, Mari, that’s it,” he says, his head thrown back.

I lift my leg, hook it around him, and use it to draw him closer, bringing our feverishly hot bodies flush against each other.

Javi looks over his shoulder. “There’s a perfectly good bed only a few steps away.”

“Too far,” I reply, rubbing him against my clit.

“Mari,” he says, groaning. “I want this. I do. But we need a condom.”

“I’m on the pill,” I say, as I drag my mouth along his neck, “and I haven’t been with anyone for a while. And I was tested last month.”

“Was tested a while ago, and I haven’t been with anyone—”

I don’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before I’m guiding him inside me.

“Oh fuck yes,” he says, surging upward as he lifts me off the floor.

The sensation of being stretched, being filled, is overwhelming; it dulls some senses and sharpens others.

My vision goes hazy, blood thrums in my eardrums, and Javi’s unique scent permeates the air around us.

Javi’s relentless, his body driving into mine over and over, with such force and at such a pace I can hardly catch my breath.

My hands roam over his shoulders, and then I hang on for dear life.

“This is going to be embarrassingly quick,” he breathes against my neck a few minutes later.

“Oh God,” I say, my eyes squeezed shut, “I’m going to come soon too.”

He surges into me one last time, and we both fall apart, our bodies trembling.

“Mari, Mari, Mari,” he chants.

I’m unable to form words; my mouth hangs open as the pleasure courses through me, makes me shiver, wrings me dry.

As soon as the orgasm recedes, though, the doubts and the questions wrap around me like thorny vines and pull me back down to earth.

Javi and I always come together like this.

Like an aside. Like a detour. As if we can simply erase any potential damage to our friendship by returning us to our factory settings whenever we’d like.

But I should expect more, shouldn’t I? Not just someone who’s only with me whenever the mood arises.

No, I need someone who wants my heart with such ferocity that he can’t imagine an existence without me.

He kisses my neck as he works to even his breathing.

I reprimand my undisciplined brain while I disentangle myself from his embrace.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I murmur.

“Of course,” he says, pulling his joggers up and tucking himself in. He points. “Right there.”

“Thanks,” I say, not looking at him as I bend to pick up my leggings.

Because I don’t want to see the concern in his eyes. Or succumb to whatever fantastical notions he has in his head. Enough is enough.