Chapter Seventeen
W hen Santi mentioned that he’d left his gym bag at the stadium, I assumed it would be a quick trip - him running in to grab it while I waited in the car.
But Santi being Santi, of course, had other ideas.
“No way am I leaving you in the car,” he’d said, flashing me that irresistible grin. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
And now, here I am, walking through the eerily quiet corridors of the stadium late in the evening, following closely behind him.
“It’s kind of creepy,” I say, my voice bouncing off the exposed brick walls and concrete floors.
The fluorescent lights above us hum faintly, casting a cold, uneven glow that gives me a horrible feeling.
Santi glances over his shoulder, his lips curving into a teasing smile.
“What, you don’t find exposed pipes and dusty corridors romantic?”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but laugh. “Not quite the glamorous world of professional sports I imagined.”
“Yeah, sorry to disappoint,” he says, slowing his pace so we’re walking side by side. “It’s not all fancy cars and champagne, you know. ”
“No kidding,” I say, gesturing to the plain brick walls. “This place has the charm of a hospital basement.”
He chuckles, nudging me lightly with his broad shoulder.
“Careful, Olivia. You’ll hurt its feelings. This basement has seen some incredible moments.”
“Right. Like you forgetting your gym bag?”
He laughs, shaking his head.
“Alright, miss perfect . Point taken. Not one of my finer moments.”
As we round a corner, a security guard steps out of a shadowed alcove near one of the doors.
His posture straightens the moment he sees us, his eyes narrowing slightly as they dart between Santi and I. His uniform is crisp, and the faint clink of keys at his belt breaks the otherwise heavy silence of the corridor.
“Buenas noches,” Santi says casually, nodding at him, his voice carrying an effortless confidence.
The guard nods back, but his gaze lingers on me for longer than I’d consider polite. His expression is hard to read, a clear mixture of curiosity and something sharper. Something that makes my stomach tighten.
I glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of every sound we make in the quiet space and wishing I hadn’t chosen to wear heels tonight. My skin prickles under the weight of his stare, and for a brief, uncomfortable moment, I feel completely out of place.
Santi must notice, because he shifts subtly, his broad frame moving just enough to block part of the guard’s view of me. He reaches for my hand, his strong fingers wrapping around mine with an easy familiarity .
“Come on, Olivia” he says, his tone steady as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
I let him guide me forward, my eyes fixed on the floor as we pass the guard. Even when we’re a few steps beyond him, I can still feel his eyes burning into my back.
I lean in closer to Santi, my voice low and a little shaky.
“What was that all about?”
“Don’t mind the security,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his tone. “They’re quiet by nature. I don’t think talking is in their job description. Besides, he was probably just trying to figure out who you are, that’s all.”
I glance up at him, my brow furrowing. “Why would anyone care who I am?”
“Because you’re walking with me,” he says, flashing a small, knowing smile.
I roll my eyes, though his answer doesn’t exactly ease my discomfort.
“Great. So now I’m a mystery woman in a creepy stadium.”
Santi chuckles, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand as we continue down the corridor.
“I don’t think that’s the conclusion he’s come to.”
“Oh? So what conclusion do you think he’s drawn, then?”
He grins, the kind of grin that always makes my pulse quicken.
“That you’re the most beautiful woman who has ever walked through these dusty halls.”
I roll my eyes, though I can feel my cheeks warming. “Oh, please.”
“Hey, I’m just being honest,” he says, his tone light but sincere. “ Anyway, you need to relax. You’re with me, remember? No one’s going to bother you.”
“It’s not that,” I say, glancing back over my shoulder to make sure the guard isn’t still staring. Thankfully, there’s a reasonable distance between us now. “It’s just... I don’t like people looking at me like that.”
His smile fades slightly, and he stops walking, turning to face me. The dim lighting casts soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the quiet intensity in his green eyes.
“Listen,” he says, his voice low but firm. “If you ever feel uncomfortable - if anyone ever makes you feel uneasy, you tell me, okay?”
I nod, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his tone.
“Good,” he says, his grip on my hand tightening briefly before he lets out a breath, his smile returning. “Now, come on. I know you’re eager to get to the creepiest part of the stadium.”
“Oh yes. I’m so looking forward to it,” I mutter dryly, my lips twitching into a reluctant smile as he leads me deeper into the maze-like corridors.
We continue down the corridor, the sound of our footsteps breaking the silence. The walls are lined with posters of past matches, each one featuring triumphant players mid-action.
“This is where you walk through on game days?”
“Yep,” he responds. “It’s a little less intimidating when it’s empty, though. On game day, this place is packed. Players, coaches, staff, reporters… it’s chaos.”
“Not quite as creepy, then.”
“No,” he chuckles. “Just a lot of yelling and the occasional fight over the playlist in the locker room. ”
“Let me guess: someone always wants reggaeton, and someone else is a die-hard rock fan?”
“ Exactly ,” he say. “The rookies usually lose, though. Seniority wins the aux cord.”
We reach a set of double doors, and Santi pushes them open.
“Here we are. The grand reveal,” he says, waving his hand around as we step into the locker room.
The space is bigger than I expected, but not nearly as polished. The walls are at least painted in here, although the scuffed wooden benches give it a rugged, no-frills vibe, and the faint scent of sweat and liniment lingers in the air.
“Huh.”
I watch as one of Santi’s dark brows raises at my reaction. “ Huh ?!” he repeats.
“Yes. Huh. It’s not as fancy as I’d thought it would be.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint, profesora . This is where the magic happens: sweat, mud, and all.”
Santi walks over to one of the lockers and pulls out a navy gym bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
“That’s what you left behind?”
“Yes. My personal phone is in here - the one I use for family emergencies. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, just in case someone needed me.”
“Fair enough,” I say, glancing around the room.
My eyes catch on a row of jerseys hanging neatly on a rack, their bold colors and numbers standing out against the muted tones of the room.
“Are those...? ”
“Our jerseys,” he says, following my gaze. “We hang them up before every game. It’s kind of a ritual.”
I take a step closer, my fingers brushing lightly against one of them. The black and white fabric is smooth and lightweight, and I glance at the number printed on the back.
10.
“This one’s yours,” I say, looking over at him.
“Mmmmmm, your stalking is showing!” he teases, walking up beside me. He takes the jersey from the rack, holding it up with a playful smile. “What do you think? Does it make me look cool?”
“Cool?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a professional rugby player, Santi. A famous athlete here in Spain. I think you’ve already got ‘cool’ covered.”
He laughs, placing his shirt neatly besides the others. “You know how to flatter me.”
I glance around the room again, taking in the details. I can almost picture it now - him getting ready in here, his teammates laughing and joking around together as they prepare for their next game.
“This is so surreal,” I say softly. “Seeing all of this makes it feel real, you know? I mean, this is your life. You’re not just Santiago Ortiz, the guy who flirts shamelessly with random women on rooftop bars. You’re Santiago Ortiz, rugby star.”
He steps closer, his green eyes meeting mine.
“It’s just a job,” he says gently. “At the end of the day, I’m just a guy who plays rugby for a living. That’s all.”
“If you say so. But I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
He tilts his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips .
“Maybe. But right now, it’s just us. No cameras, no coach, no crowds. Just me and you.”
He steps closer with each word until he’s standing right before me, and I can’t help but smile at the sincerity in his voice even as my heart flutters a little too much for comfort.
The locker room feels smaller now, the air charged with something I can’t quite name. Santi’s body is now impossibly close to mine, his broad frame blocking out the rest of the room and leaving just the two of us.
“Santi,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
The cool wall behind me contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from him, and my thoughts scatter as his green eyes hold mine, darkened with something that makes my pulse race.
“Hm?” he replies softly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“This... probably isn’t the best place for... this ,” I manage to say, my words faltering as his hand moves to rest lightly on my hip, his thumb brushing a slow circle over the fabric of my dress.
“Why not?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. “It’s just us. No one’s going to walk in.”
“You don’t know that,” I say, glancing nervously toward the door.
My protest lacks conviction, though. Especially when his other hand rises to brush a stray strand of hair away from my face.
His lips curve into a devilish grin as he leans in, his mouth grazing my temple before moving to the shell of my ear. “That’s what makes it exciting,” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
“They could,” I add, my voice a little more urgent this time. “ What if one of the security guards comes back? They were already giving me funny looks.”
My breath catches, and I push lightly against his chest, though it’s more out of reflex than any real intention to stop him.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter.
“You like it,” he counters, his voice soft but laced with confidence.
“I -” I begin, but the word dies on my lips as his thumb brushes just under the curve of my jaw, tilting my face up toward his.
His green eyes are alight with mischief, but there’s something deeper there, something that makes my stomach twist in a way I can’t quite explain. Our noses brush intimately, and I can feel his warm breath fanning over my face from our proximity.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he says, his tone dropping to a low whisper. “And I’ll stop.”
I hesitate, my heart pounding. “Anyone could walk in.”
“That’s the fun part.”
He closes the remaining distance between us, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate. He takes his time to explore my mouth until I’ve completely forgotten about the security guards, the risk, the world outside this moment.
I practically melt into him. His shirt is soft beneath my fingers, but the muscles underneath are firm and unyielding, a reminder of just how powerful he is.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye.
I hesitate, my heart pounding so loudly it’s a wonder he can’t hear it .
“I...”
His hand slips beneath my chin, tilting my face up toward him. “Just say the word,” he says softly, his green eyes searching mine as the pad of his thumb brushes against my lower lip. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over me.
He’s giving me an out, a chance to walk away from this moment. But instead of taking it, I find myself shaking my head.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
The tension between us snaps, and before I can take another breath, his lips are on mine once more.
His hands tighten on my waist, pulling me closer to him yet stepping forwards at the same time until there’s no space left between us. My back presses against the rough surface of the locker room wall, but I barely notice, too caught up in the way his mouth moves against mine, in the way he makes me feel like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping me upright. He dominates my senses, grounding me to him even as everything else spins out of control.
When we finally break apart, my breathing is uneven and my cheeks are flushed. Santi doesn’t move far, his forehead resting lightly against mine as he looks down at me, the corners of his mouth beginning to curve upwards.
“You’re blushing, profesora,” he teases, his voice low and full of warmth.
“Shut up,” I mutter, though my lips curve into a reluctant smile .
His hand rises to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin.
“I like it,” he says, his tone softer now, more sincere. “You’re beautiful when you’re flustered.”
I let out a shaky laugh.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say again, though the words lack any real weight.
“Why not?” he counters, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of my mouth. “We’re just living in the moment, right?”
“This is your place of work,” I point out, though my resolve is slipping with every second.
“And right now, it’s empty,” he says, his smile widening. “Just me, you, and a very sturdy wall.”
“Santi,” I say, trying to sound firm, but his lips find the hollow of my throat, and the sound turns into something closer to a gasp.
He chuckles softly, the vibration of it sending another shiver through me.
“Want to tell me to stop, Olivia?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin, his stubble tickling me slightly.
He already knows that I won’t.
Smug bastard.
I pull him closer, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as his mouth finds mine again. The kiss is more urgent this time, more consuming, and any lingering doubts I had are swept away by the sheer intensity of it.
It’s reckless and impulsive and probably a terrible idea - but in this moment, I don’t care.
All I care about is him .
He kisses me deeper, and I make a small noise of surprise when he effortlessly lifts me off the ground. My back presses harder against the cool surface of the wall as he rests me against it, his strong hands holding me in place as my legs immediately part to wrap around his hips.
The contrast between the rough texture of the wall and the warmth of his body sends a thrill through me. My hands wander over his chest, broad shoulders, large biceps and thick forearms, appreciating every inch of his strength as his lips move hungrily over mine. My pulse races, the adrenaline coursing through me mixing with an all-consuming heat.
I break the kiss for a moment, my breathing uneven as I manage to whisper.
“Are you sure that we’re… someone might...”
“Let them,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “I don’t care.”
His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can’t focus on anything at the feel of his lips trailing down my jawline to my neck, warm and insistent.
I bite back a soft groan, my hands sliding to his shoulders as I try to steady myself - not that it matters. His grip on me is strong, unshakable, and I know without a doubt that he wouldn’t let me fall.
“Santi,” I breathe, my voice trembling as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below my jaw.
“Hm?” he replies, the sound vibrating against my skin.
“This is so... reckless,” I manage, even as my body betrays me, arching into him.
“Reckless is good sometimes,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. His green eyes are darker now, filled with a fire that makes my stomach flip. “Don’t overthink it, Olivia. Just feel.”
His words unravel the last thread of resistance I’m clinging to, and I lean in to kiss him again, pouring every ounce of tension and longing into it.
He shifts slightly, his grip on me unwavering as he presses me more firmly against the wall. The pressure - the intensity of it all - makes my head spin.
The locker room feels smaller, the air thick with the heat between us. The faint hum of the lights above and the distant creaks of the building fade into the background, drowned out by the sound of our breathing, our kisses, the soft gasps I can’t seem to hold back.
Santi’s hands slide higher along my thighs, his touch firm yet reverent, like he’s memorising every inch of me. The thought has my legs tightening instinctively around his waist, not-so-subtly pulling him closer, and I can feel the faint rasp of his breath against my cheek as his hard cock lines up perfectly against my core through our clothing.
His strength is effortless, holding me up against the wall as though I weigh nothing at all, and the thought alone sends a thrill through me.
I grind my hips down against his, my fingers tangling in his long dark hair and tugging lightly as arousal floods through me.
The low growl he lets out makes my abdomen twist and clench with desire, and I cry out as I repeat the motion, rolling my hips and feeling myself growing wetter and wetter against the seam of my panties.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against my neck, his voice as rough as his stubble. His lips brush against my skin, and I tilt my head to give him better access .
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so consumed, so completely undone.
“Santi, please.”
He shifts his grip, pressing me more firmly against the wall as his hips lift in time with my downward movements. We moan in unison, his name escaping my lips again in a soft, dreamy sigh, and I feel his smile against my skin.
“Say it again.”
I laugh softly, my hands sliding down to his shoulders. “Santi.”
“Again.”
“You’re impossible,” I say, shaking my head but unable to hide my smile.
“And you’re irresistible,” he counters.
The moment feels endless, suspended in time; and I let myself get lost in it, in him.
I shift a little before I roll my hips against his again, revelling in the delicious friction that comes from grinding against his cock through his jeans. I repeat the movement again and again and again, panting into his mouth as he grips tightly to my hips.
His large hands snake around my back and then lower, his palms pressing firmly against the curve of my ass. My hips buck instinctively as the movement presses me even more against the outline of his erection, but I know I’m not going to be satisfied until he’s closer still.
The way that Santi kisses me has my head spinning, and I hum in approval as he grips my ass tighter and lifts his hips against mine. I giggle as he hisses sharply.
“ Fuck , Olivia - I need you now.”
Before I can overthink it, I snake my hand between our bodies and brush my fingertips over the waistband of his jeans. His taut abdomen sucks in as he inhales a quick breath, and I bite down on my bottom lip as Santi raises his hips away from mine so that I can tug the dark material down his thighs.
His brilliant green eyes flutter to a close as I wrap my hand around the exposed length of his thick cock, and I can’t help but feel at least a little proud of the way that his lips part and his eyes squeeze tightly when I pump my hand up and down his length.
Encouraged by his laboured breaths, I continue with my ministrations, catching the little signs - his strong jaw clenching, his brow furrowing, his breath hitching - to establish what he likes, what he needs more of. His green eyes blink open into my own when I twist my hand and swipe my thumb over the damp head of his cock, and Santi moves to wrap his own hand around mine, effectively halting me from continuing.
His breath is raspier than I’ve heard it before.
“Olivia, you’ve got to stop,” he says. “If you -” he hisses as my thumb brushes against the weeping head of his cock before my hand lowers. “ Fuck. If you want this to last, then you’ve got to stop.”
I’m far too overcome with lust and desire to think about anything other than having him inside me, feeling him fill me from this position, and I press an eager kiss to his mouth as I hook my fingers against my panties and pull them over to the side.
The sound of the material stretching meets my ears and I grin wickedly against his mouth as he lines himself up at my entrance.
We gasp together as Santi pushes inside, my arousal more than enough lubricant to allow him to easily slide in. He can’t fill me at once, though - my clenching walls won’t allow it - and my hands move to bury themselves into his thick, mussed hair as he slowly pulls his hips back before pushing forwards again.
He rocks against me several times, moving carefully until he has filled me completely. His lips ghost over my jawline, peppering kisses to my skin at random.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice deep and low. “Like you were fucking made for me.”
He emphasises his words with a strong thrust of his hips, his grip tightening on the flesh of my ass. I feel utterly delirious as Santi fucks me against the wall of his locker room, here in the middle of this open space that anyone could walk into at any given moment.
It feels so, so wrong, but Santi’s right - the knowledge that we could be caught makes it all the more exciting.
I know I’m unlikely to find my release given the rushed pace of our movements - urgency, want and sheer need blatantly present in every snap of his hips against mine - but just having this is more than pleasurable enough for me.
He uses his hold on me to practically bounces my body up and down on his cock, moving me with an ease that makes me question just how strong this man is.
My hands cling desperately to his shoulders as he increases the pace of his thrusts, and I circle my hips a little, trying my best to participate where I can and not just hang here against the wall.
His thick, muscular thighs seem to give a little at that - as if he wasn’t expecting the movement, nor his body’s reaction to it - so I repeat it again, circling my hips on his cock as he pounds into me.
He’s close. I can tell by the way his jaw clenches and his blunt fingernails dig tightly into my ass cheeks.
I hiss loudly as he tilts his hips upwards, altering the angle of his thrusts and causing me to fist my hands into the collar of his shirt as I seek something to ground me in this moment.
I close the distance between us with a desperate kiss, and Santi licks into my mouth with equal enthusiasm. His breath hitches one final time before he empties himself deep inside me with a long, low grunt that comes from the back of his throat, his face falling into the crook of my neck as his breath comes out in ragged pants.
I raise one of my hands to the back of his head so that I can gently drag my fingernails over his scalp, smiling softly despite myself as I move to rest my cheek against the side of his head.
All is quiet and peaceful around us, only the faint hum of the lights and the soft sounds of our breaths mingling filling the air of the locker room.
But then, faintly, I hear the distant sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor.
I stiffen, my head snapping toward the door, the sound sending a jolt of panic through me.
“Santi, someone’s coming,” I whisper urgently, my voice barely audible.
He doesn’t move right away, his forehead still resting on my shoulder, his lips brushing lightly against the curve of my neck. His hands are firm beneath me, holding me up effortlessly. It’s almost as if the sound of approaching footsteps doesn’t faze him in the slightest despite my own panic.
“Santi,” I hiss, my voice sharper now, but before I can say another word, one of his hands leaves my ass and gently covers my mouth.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear .
The sound is so soft, so intimate, and it sends a shiver down my spine despite the growing tension in the air.
His green eyes lock onto mine, and even in the dim light, I can see the glint of amusement mixed with something darker.
“Stay still,” he whispers, his voice low and steady. “And don’t make a sound.”
My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure whoever is in the corridor must hear it, but I nod slowly, my pulse racing as I do what he says.
We stay frozen like that: him holding me against the wall, one hand now splayed across my lower back to keep me steady, the other covering my mouth. His body remains pressed close to mine, all warm and strong and solid as he continues to pin me against the wall.
The footsteps grow louder, each one echoing in the quiet, and I hold my breath as the sound moves closer.
My eyes dart toward the door, but Santi doesn’t so much as glance away from me for even a moment. His gaze stays fixed on mine, and I cringe as the footsteps pause just outside the locker room door.
My entire body goes rigid. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging through the material of his shirt as my mind races with every worst-case scenario.
The thought of someone coming in here and finding us in such a compromising position is embarrassing, of course, but it’s also damning for Santi.
This is highly unprofessional, and I worry about how much his career would be damaged if he were to be found with his jeans halfway down his thighs, his cock out for all to see - oh, and just to top it off, a woman pinned to the wall whilst straddling his hips .
Santi’s hand gently shifts from my mouth to my jaw, his thumb brushing soothingly against my cheek.
“Relax,” he mouths.
Relax ? Is he serious?!
Given that I’m currently pinned against his team’s locker room wall with my panties shoved to one side and his cum leaking out of my freshly-fucked vagina while someone stands right outside, I am anything but relaxed.
The handle of the door rattles slightly, and my breath catches in my throat. My nails dig further into his shirt as I brace myself for the worst; but then, the sound of the footsteps resumes, retreating back down the corridor.
We stay frozen for a moment longer, listening as the sound fades into nothingness.
When it’s clear the coast is finally clear, I let out a shaky exhale, my hands unclenching and releasing the material of his shirt as I rest my palms flat against his taut chest.
“That was way too close,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Santi chuckles softly, his fingers brushing against the small of my back.
“Told you it would make it more exciting.”
I swat at his arm, my cheeks flushing.
“This isn’t funny, Santi. Someone almost walked in on us.”
“And yet, they didn’t,” he says. “Admit it: you enjoyed the thrill.”
“Can you put me down now?” I mutter, though my voice lacks conviction.
“Hmm,” he muses, tilting his head as if considering. “I could. But I like you right where you are. ”
“Santi,” I warn, though the soft laugh that escapes me ruins the effect.
He finally relents, lowering me gently to the ground, his hands lingering at my waist as I steady myself.
As I pull my panties back into place, smooth my dress and glance toward the door again, I can’t help but feel like I’ve just stepped off a rollercoaster: breathless, exhilarated and slightly unsteady.
“Next time,” I say, shooting him a pointed look, “we’re not doing this anywhere near your workplace. Understood?”
He seems to be completely unbothered by the near-miss.
“Noted, profesora. But don’t act like it wasn’t worth it.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“ Cute ?” he repeats, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m devastatingly handsome.”
I shake my head, laughing softly as he slings his gym bag over his shoulder and offers me his hand.
“Who told you that?”
“I’m pretty sure you did, actually.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I grumble.
“Why not? That was worth every second of risk,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to send another shiver through me. “Come on,” he continues, breaking the moment as he motions toward another door. “I’ll show you the tunnel. It’s even creepier when it’s empty.”
“Creepier than this?” I tease, gesturing around the locker room.
“You’ll see,” he says, taking my hand in his and squeezing it gently.