Page 28 of Winning Match (League Valencia #1)

Marlowe

I cling to him until we cross the threshold of his bedroom.

Then, I slide down his frame until I’m standing before him, unsteady on my feet.

“I won’t let you go after this,” he admits, his voice throaty, his eyes intense. “So, if you don’t want this, stop me now.”

Desire floods my system but it’s more than that—it’s the promise in his words.

I won’t let you go.

“Don’t stop,” I rasp as Ale’s fingers curl around my ear, pushing my hair out of my face.

His eyes hold mine for a heartbeat before his mouth descends. When his lips touch mine, I melt into him in relief. The final puzzle piece clicks into place and I’m home. Here. Complete.

My arms intertwine around Ale’s neck, and I push up on my toes. He grasps the underside of my thigh and in one sharp tug, he’s holding me, stalking forward, laying us down on the bed.

Ale’s frame settles over me and the weight is delicious. Solid and steady and safe.

He pulls back to drink me in, his smirk wicked, his eyes electric. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly undresses me. Since I had my meeting with José Costa, I’m dressed conservatively—a high-neck silk poet blouse and high-waisted, wide-legged trousers.

Ale tugs on the tie around my neck and the blouse opens, offering the slightest hint of cleavage. His teeth drop into his bottom lip and I suck in a breath.

He doesn’t rush. No, he’s slow and deliberate, slipping each fabric-covered button through its fastening, unwrapping me like a long-awaited present.

When the fabric parts and my blouse falls open to my sides, his eyes drop to my chest. One hand lifts to cup my left breast, his fingers tracing the lace of my bra’s cup with featherlight touches.

He shimmies down my body, dipping until he can drop his mouth to my breasts, kissing and teasing, his deft fingers working the buttons on my pants.

He tugs them down my thighs and I kick them the rest of the way off.

“Do your bras and panties always match?” he rasps.

“Only when I’m aiming for confidence.”

He shakes his head. “You always project confidence.” He slides one bra strap off my shoulder. “And it’s the sexiest thing about you.” The second bra strap follows.

And then, he pulls me up into a seated position, pushes my shirt off my shoulders, and pops the clasp on my bra until it falls away.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his eyes pursuing my body with naked appreciation.

I lie back, wearing only a cream lace thong. Ale’s thumb brushes back and forth along the strap of fabric at my hip, his length rock hard and visible through his pants.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“You’re right.” Then, he reaches behind his neck and tugs his shirt off in the ultimate guy-move that makes my mouth water. I barely note that he’s working his pants off next because my eyes are glued to his naked chest, his solid abdomen, all sleek skin and sculpted muscle.

He removes his boxer briefs next, and I audibly groan as his cock springs free—silky smooth and as hard as steel.

Ale smirks knowingly as I lick my bottom lip, wondering if he’s going to fit.

Alejandro is significantly larger, thicker, just more than Gerard and for a second, a fissure of nerves scatters through me.

He reaches for his bedside table, for a condom, but I touch his wrist. His eyes snap to mine. “You sure about this?”

“I’m on the pill,” is all I say as the blood drains from his face.

He tips his head back and swears. When he looks at me again, a protectiveness lines his face, his eyes heady and possessive. “Are you sure? Positive?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” Ale murmurs.

But then he’s leaning over me, and I’m reaching for the number nine pendant around his throat, tugging him closer. His mouth drops to mine and our lips fuse, kissing, nipping, and tasting. Our hands roam, exploring, caressing, and teasing.

When his fingers push my thong to the side to drag through my core, my hips buck off the bed. I’m already dripping for him—I have been since he first unbuttoned my blouse.

Ale hisses and I moan. He gentles his touch, dragging the pads of two fingers through my folds two more times before slowly inserting them.

I gasp, arching into him as he adds the pressure of his thumb to my clit and drops his hot mouth to my breast, making me see stars. See a future where there should only be a dead end.

But this changes everything.

Ale lavishes my breast with attention as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb tracing small circles around my clit.

When my breathing turns to panting, Ale shimmies down my body, yanking my panties off, and replacing his fingers with his mouth and I cry out.

I reach for him, my hand grasping the top of his head, fingers tugging on his short hair.

I close my thighs around his face, and he growls, lapping and sucking and moaning right along with me.

“Ale, oh God, please.”

“So fucking sweet,” he says, blowing on my pussy before dragging his tongue through my center. “So fucking good.”

I mewl, my hand in his hair gripping tighter, encouraging him to keep going, to move faster, to give me—“more.” It’s a plea and my man delivers, dropping his face back down to drive me wild.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I chant as he drives me higher, closer to the edge. “Don’t fucking stop.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he increases the pressure, the pace, and gives me every goddamn thing I ask for and more.

“I’m gonna come,” I warn him seconds before the most delicious, tantalizing, desperate need coils in my abdomen, curls my toes, and bows my back. Then, I shatter and pleasure like I’ve never known—waves and waves of color and light—unleashes through my limbs. “Oh my God,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“Just me, mi nina ,” Ale says in that cocky-as-fuck way of his. He smirks as he lines himself up at my entrance. But his eyes are solemn as they hold mine, our fingers threading together.

I lift my hips to urge him along. “Please,” I beg, half incoherent with arousal and pleasure. “I need you.”

Ale bites his bottom lip, his jaw tight, his eyes fierce as he pushes into me, stretching my soft around his hard. He swears, biting, harsh words in Spanish that heat my blood.

I moan, the fullness he provides more satisfying than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. He bottoms out and groans just as I sigh.

Ale flexes his fingers, but I hold on tightly, keeping our hands joined as he grounds the back of my hand into the mattress and begins to move.

His pace is smooth and fluid as he dances over me, reminding me of the night we danced bachata. His abs ripple, his neck strains, and a muscle pulses in his jaw. But his eyes—beautifully harsh, alluringly wild—never leave mine.

As he increases his speed, my body tightens in anticipation. And slowly, Ale’s eyes change—awareness shading the green with gold, a softness spreading from his pupil to the outer ring of his iris.

“Marlowe,” he moans, his voice a whisper. “Fuck, Marli. What are you doing to me?”

I come a second time, his desperate question, his hopeful gaze, ripping a second orgasm from my sated body.

“That’s it,” Ale coaches. “Give me everything.”

And I do. I detonate around him, riding out my orgasm as he continues to pump inside of me. As I float down from the highest high I’ve ever experienced, Alejandro grips my hip and begins to piston inside of me, setting a relentless pace.

He cries out a moment later— mi amor —before spilling into me, filling me with his want. With his essence. With everything.

He drops forward, rolling us until we’re side by side, our foreheads pressed together.

“That was…” He trails off. “Fuck, Marli, you just flipped my world upside down.”

I giggle lightly.

He stays inside me for several more seconds before slowly pulling out. A rush of his arousal follows, flowing out of me and coating my thighs.

He reaches for me, hooking an arm around my waist and hoisting me closer. Our bodies press together, our mouths line up, and Ale kisses me deeply. Slowly. Thoroughly.

I think I love you , I want to tell him.

But I’m too scared to voice the words. Instead, I close my eyes and enjoy the best birthday I’ve ever had with the best man I’ve ever been with.

He gives me my birthday gift in bed. We’ve both cleaned up but we’re still naked, huddled together under the comforter.

“Happy birthday, Marli,” he says simply, passing me the small gift box.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” I murmur but I know my eyes are gleaming with happiness, with hopefulness.

Part of me wants to rip into the present to see what Ale chose for me while the other part wants to cling to this gift box, this moment, forever. “This has been one of the best nights of my life.”

Ale brushes a kiss over my lips. “I want to celebrate you every day, always.”

Swoon. Who the hell says things like that? I bite my bottom lip, my eyes cutting to the box as I shift and sit straighter in bed.

“Open it.”

I slide my finger under the taped flap on the side of the box and gently, neatly unwrap the present. My eyes dart to Ale’s once before I lift the top on the small jewelry box.

My heart pounds wondering what he bought me.

But then, I see it and my heart drops to my feet, tears springing to my eyes. Nestled in the jewelry box is a gold pendant attached to a gold chain.

An anchor.

Just like the one Dad gifted Mom on their first anniversary when he promised to be steady and steadfast. The one that meant the world to me before I lost it.

But when my eyes meet Ale’s, I see the nervousness in his expression.

“I don’t want to overstep,” he says.

“You can’t.” My eyes are wide as my emotions rise. “This is…this is the most perfect, most meaningful gift you could have given me. It’s beautiful and I…I love it.” I love you.

A smile curls his lips. “I’m glad.”

“Anchors are supposed to be resilient,” I explain, fingering the pendant before lifting it from the box.

Ale takes it from my hand, and I turn, gathering my hair as he places it around my neck and fastens the clasp. I drop my hair, and he runs a hand down my naked spine, before I hug him.

“Thank you.” I kiss him.

He smiles against my lips. “Some people believe that anchors represent new beginnings.” He kisses me softly. “A fresh start.”

I kiss him again, my desire for him stirring, as I wonder about the symbolism.

Ale’s hands caress my naked body, and I toss my leg over his hips, straddling him as we start all over again. Our kissing and touching turns into another round of delicious sex.

After we simultaneously shatter at the seams does Ale stare into my eyes, an expression I can’t read washing over his face. He pulls in a breath, his eyes flashing, before moving to the bathroom for a washcloth. He cleans me up, wraps me in his arms, and kisses me good night.

“ Feliz Cumpleanos , Marli.”

I smile, and drift to sleep.