Chapter 3
SARINA
I think I discovered something that’s sluttier on a man than gray sweatpants
Lorena
Gray suit pants
Lorena
Ehhh
Gray Armani suit pants
Lorena
I stand corrected
I’ll keep you updated if what’s underneath is as big as I’m projecting it is
Lorena
I’ll be waiting
“A Manhattan for you,” the bartender says to whoever this sexy man next to me is, placing his drink in front of him, “and I’ll be right back with your usual.”
He’s so pretty to look at, I’m finding it difficult to not just stare at him.
Aside from having the perfect amount of facial hair that’s just over what would be considered a five-o’clock shadow but not too much that it distracts from his chiseled cheekbones and dimpled smile, he has the warmest brown eyes that match his short, faded haircut.
And I can’t ignore the fact that he’s climbable.
Easily a foot taller than my five-foot-three self.
Fuck, and the way he fills out his suit in all the right places, has my mind running wild, wanting to see what his broad shoulders and tapered waist look like bare, with my nails digging into his skin.
It doesn’t help that aside from the obvious attraction I have for him, that I can’t stop replaying in my head the way he swopped in to my rescue as Luxe. No one has ever done that for me. Or looked as sexy and confident while defending me. I’m surprised I’ve stayed composed for as long as I have.
A few seconds pass when my usual three drinks are set before me. “Thank you.”
“Of course, anytime. It’s good to see you,” Dominica says with a grin. “You two have fun. Enjoy.”
A silent Oh, we will filters through my mind as I bring my attention to the assortment of drinks in front of me. I scan my options, opting for the espresso martini first.
I glance his way, noticing the way he’s studying me. “Yes?”
“Nothing.” He tries to suppress the smirk curling the corners of his mouth. There’s such a smooth charm to him, but a shyness as well that peeks through. It’s a combination I haven’t encountered often. It’s endearing.
“Whatever you say, but that look on your face tells a different tale.”
“What look?” He attempts to fix his expression but all it does it make the grin he’s been holding back widen. “I can’t just admire how beautiful you are?”
My cheeks warm to a blush —something that doesn’t happen often, and somehow, he’s been able to do it more than once in the short amount of time since I made his acquaintance. I play it off. “If that’s your story…” My voice lingers for a brief pause.
“It is, and I’m sticking to it.”
“Fine. You were distracted by my beauty, I get it.” I bob my head, rolling my eyes dramatically, causing a piece of my hair to fall out of place. And in what feels like slow motion, he reaches over and tucks the loose strand back in place.
If I thought my cheeks were burning with a rosy blush before, that was nothing compared to the inferno blazing through my entire body right now, from such a seemingly innocent yet erotically thoughtful gesture.
I glide my glass closer to his. “It’s bad luck not to toast before drinking with someone. Especially if we came here to consummate our very legitimate and totally not fake marriage,” I remind him, and thank fuck, the naturally flirtatious tone of my voice is able to disguise how nervous I feel.
“Can’t argue with that logic,” he says as our glasses clink together.
“Salud,” we say in unison as we keep our eyes in line with one another.
One sip turns into a few more before small talk begins.
“I take it you come here often?” he asks.
“Kind of. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I enjoy coming —” Oh my god, ‘I enjoy coming’? Really, Sarina, with the double entendres? “Here. Coming here. It reminds me of home.” I immediately regret saying that as well since home is the last thing I want to discuss.
“I’d ask where home is, but I have a feeling you aren’t willing to tell me.
That’s fine. Well, no matter how often you come here, you seemed to leave an impression on her.
” He looks up at Dominica who is busy at the opposite side of the bar.
“She had your usual order memorized, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was flirting with you. ”
I purposely wait until the brim of his glass skims his lips, timing my response with the slow pour of alcohol down his throat. “If you thought that was flirting, you should’ve seen the way she used to make me ride her hand and make me beg for more.”
He coughs, nearly choking on his drink, and I can’t help but to giggle.
“Goddamn I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, wiping the little bit of alcohol dripping down his chin.
“Which part? Her making me beg for more or that I’m bisexual?”
Sincerity clings to his irises. “No. Love is love. I just wasn’t expecting you to say it so…”
“Bluntly?”
“Yes.”
I shrug playfully. “I would apologize, but I’m afraid that’s the only way I know how to be.”
“Don’t apologize. I like it. I’ll just make sure I either drink faster or not at all when you’re around, so I don’t embarrass myself.”
“Aw, that’s no fun.” I pout as my gaze drifts to his broad shoulders that have slowly begun to loosen up since our paths crossed at Luxe, though not enough for my liking.
Without knowing what he does for a living, or anything about him, for that matter, I’d guess that the tension he seems to naturally hold in his shoulders comes from lingering stress. Maybe even a burden of some sort that he carries daily. I know firsthand how tiresome that can be.
“I was kidding, by the way. Dominica never had me begging to come. Her sister, Isa, on the other hand, well, that’s a whole other story. That woman, she was something.”
“What happened?” he asks, with genuine curiosity.
“We had amazing chemistry, but we decided we are better as friends. Dom is just friendly. Besides, not many customers order three drinks every time they go to the bar. It’s hard to forget.”
“Every time?”
“Pretty much.” I don’t know what possesses me to not leave it at that, but before I know it, I have all three drinks in a line, and I give him a rundown of why these are my go-tos.
“The Diet Coke is because life is always better with a crisp Coke. It’s the equivalent to a liquid cigarette.
It may not be the greatest for you, but fuck does it take the edge off.
The gin and tonic is because it’s my favorite mixed drink.
I don’t like anything fancy, and I love the bitterness of the gin.
And then there’s this beauty—” I pause to lift my martini glass, “because whoever thought to mix caffeine with alcohol is a genius. Today has been a long day and I need the caffeine to help me stay awake for whatever you have in store for me.” I don’t bother to hide the flirtatiousness or the hope in my voice.
He seems to mirror that energy, downing his drink and getting Dominica’s attention for another, along with saying something else to her that I can’t quite make out.
The answer reveals itself when another Manhattan —this time with what appears to be a double pour— is placed in front of him, as well as a coffee mug.
“Looks like you’re taking my advice to heart and letting loose.”
“Sí” He slides the mug my way with careful precision, making sure none spills over. “I hope you don’t mind adding another drink to your three-drink roster.”
“Is getting me drunk part of the relaxation plan?”
He shakes his head. “There’s no alcohol in there. I took a guess that you’re a splash of cream with no sugar coffee drinker?”
My stomach twists with butterflies at his scarily accurate assumption, and all I can offer him in response is a slight nod.
“Making sure you have enough caffeine in your system to stay awake and enjoy me in my pursuit of relaxation is my plan. There’s no way I’d be able to show you how well I can relax if you’re not awake.”
“Fair. But maybe somnophilia is my kink, ever think of that?”
“I have no clue what that means. And I’m definitely not one to kink shame, but you can’t blame me for wanting to stare at those blue eyes of yours when I make you come at least once.”
Challenge accepted.
I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been sitting here. All I know is that his plan to have me caffeinated and ready for him to relax —hopefully inside of me— has worked. I’m feeling energized and eager to move on to the next part of our evening.
Conversation with him feels so easy. We’ve established that aside from both being Puerto Rican, him being full and me being half, mixed with Italian, and sharing some of the same comfort foods —a tie between guava pastellilos and ramen from across the street from the Met— we don’t have much in common.
Where I gravitate toward horror movies, he’s an action and comedy person.
Our collective music taste begins and ends at our shared love for Bad Bunny.
He prefers instrumental music or Hozier, meanwhile EDM and anything 2000s rock is my go-to.
The jolt it gives to my system in the morning is arguably needed more than an orgasm and a hot cup of coffee to start my day outright.
A fact that I embarrassingly told him, as I have a habit of oversharing.
Though he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he appears to enjoy learning more about me.
He listens so intently, it’s like he’s adding to a Rolodex of information in his mind.
It’s amazing how almost everything down to the sports teams we root for, the way we choose to relax— him going to the gym to work out; me doing anything but working out— literally everything about us couldn’t be more opposite, yet somehow, I’ve never felt so connected to or had this much fun getting to know someone.
Granted, sharing our interests and preferences is surface level at best, but considering the dry spell I’ve had lately in the dating department, this is more than I’ve done with anyone, at any level, in a long time.
He admitted that he’s a workaholic but wants to someday settle down and find balance in life. He didn’t get into it much, but he did mention how much he admired his parents’ marriage and it’s something he hopes he can have with someone one day.
While I, on the other hand, am all for marriage, so long as I’m not involved in it.
My parents may still be married, but I never saw anything in their dynamic that would make me want it for myself.
What they have in years together they lack in true love for one another.
I wish my mom would wake up from the daze she’s been in with all the money my dad throws her way and realize he’s not a good man and an even worse husband and father.
When I told him that I have no interest in marriage or having kids, rather vehemently, he left it at that. He didn’t pry or try to use his reasoning to change my mind. Even if he likely disagreed or didn’t fully understand my reasoning. He simply listened.
“Are you still interested in treating me?” I ask.
A spark ignites in his dark brown stare as he reaches for his wallet. “I’m a man of my word, and as long as I have your permission, I’ll treat you to whatever you want.”
The flutters that have taken up residence in my stomach all evening have made their way down between my legs.
My hand lifts, and before I know it, his five-o’clock shadow is scratching my palm as I cup his handsome very rideable face.
“You have to stop talking like such a gentleman, it’s going to convert me. ”
“Into?”
“Believing that not all men suck.”
“As a man, I can agree that a lot of us suck. However, as a man who was raised to respect women and treat them like the goddesses put on earth that they are, I’m okay with giving you a glimpse of hope, even if it’s just for the night.”
I tilt his chin upward, forcing him to peer up at me. “Can’t wait to be proven wrong,” I whisper, and even with the bar being as packed as it is, there’s no missing the whimper that slips past his lips.
“I take that as a yes?”
He nods his head. The gesture feels like an aphrodisiac at this point, since it’s been so long, if ever, that I’ve had a man as fine as he is be so eager to please me.
He feels like putty in my hands, just waiting for me to give him the go-ahead.
It makes me feel powerful. In control. Two things that despite my feisty persona, I don’t always feel on the inside.
“Good, I’ll be right back. I’m going to use the restroom.”
I let go of his chin and he uses it as an opportunity to quickly snatch my purse off the back of the high-back stool.
“Wha– ”
“Do you need anything from in here?”
I quirk a brow. “Umm… no.”
“I promise I’m not a creep.”
The look on his face is so sincere, I know he’s not lying. Still, I can’t help but joke with him a bit. “Spoken like every creep out there.”
“I swear,” he defends himself, looking a tad embarrassed. “I just want to make sure you have a reason to come back and not ditch me.”
My gaze travels, admiring him in silence, from head to toe. “Don’t worry I don’t plan on running away.”
“Good, because if you do, I’m man enough to admit that I have no problem chasing after you.”