Summer in our bones ✓

18 | well-dressed disaster

I turn around and see him looking like he had just come from a photoshoot for a high-end designer. He probably did.

Nico meets my gaze instantly like he knew where I was standing already. With the champagne flute in his hand, he starts walking through the sea of people, sleek as a shark breaching the water. He approaches me and I don't want him to. I excuse myself from whoever I was talking to and go to the bar for a drink. I wish I could drink something stronger than juice now.

"London boy has made it. Enhorabuena, nadie lo merece más que tú, mí angel," his breath tickles my neck as he stands behind me while I'm waiting for my sparkling water. Then he leans on the bar next to me, watching me, the same way he did the first time we met. And he speaks Spanish and uses that nickname to annoy me like he used to.

"Thanks," I say it to the bartender who passed me my drink, not him.

"So how are you finding the city? My Spanish lessons paid off?"

"Yeah, actually, thanks to you I know how to ask whoever I fuck to kiss me or suck me off in Spanish. They love it."

There's venom in my tone, it's an ugly thing. Nico's expression changes from smug to sour and he takes another swig from his glass. I notice he chugged two in the short minutes that he's been in my presence.

I don't actually have sex with anyone. I tried one time, and it was a girl—a friend of a friend at my leaving party that my teammates organised in London. But it was disappointing. It was just a physical release and nothing more. The strongest feeling after that experience was that I didn't even need more. The last time I wanted more it bounced back at me.

"I'm glad I could be of help, Jordan. Now that we're both in the same town again I can teach you some more," he theatrically strokes his chin implying he's thinking hard about this, "For example, cómeme el culo, yeah, that one can be quite convenient."

He smirks again, and all that sass and attitude is back right on cue. His mouth has a sparkly sheen and I look at it, remembering how it looked better swollen after kissing me and he brushes his tongue along his lower lip. Whatever that expression means I have a feeling I would've loved it if we did it, but I clear my throat and manage to look away. His little finger subtly brushes against mine on the sleek bar top and I hate myself that the moment he appears in my life I feel feverish, warm all over and stupid with desire. I shake my head and allow the sounds of the room to return to me.

"Stop playing games with me. I don't want you anymore."

I snap at him but his boyish, good-looking face is far too distracting. And this close I can notice his glassy eyes, sad and shimmering like wet sand reflecting the midday sun.

"And what's that boner doing in your trousers then, London boy?"

I look down and rage mixed with embarrassment races through me as I see the tent in my dress trousers in the middle of this massive event. I don't need a scandal now, I need him away from me. A coy grin spreads across his face as I turn around and walk quickly through the crowd trying to hide my protruding cock until I reach the toilets. I don't want to take care of myself, actually, I just want it to go away, but it doesn't because of course Nico follows me inside locking the door behind him.

"Why are you running away from me? It's ok, I'm still attracted to you too. You're the best fuck I ever had."

Of course, that's all I was to him, a good fuck. He is so unbothered as he watches me pace up and down the small space like an angry animal in a cage.

"Because..." My body is aflame and I don't think when I grab him by the neck and slam his back against the tiled wall. "... I don't want to be attracted to you."

He laughs with just the slightest edge of hysteria. Then he moans deliciously like this is actually turning him on more. I press harder, feeling his Adam's apple bob under my palm.

"Yes, baby, give it to me rough."

I know he's saying it just to mess with me, he's drunk because I can smell alcohol on his breath and he's encouraged by my body that betrayed me but there it is again, that familiar twist in my stomach whenever he says things like that to me. Something breaks in me when I see his dark eyes, that sexy-hazed, smouldering look that turns me inside out. And I remember how good it was when we had sex, how hot, out of this world he'd make me come, how I never can compare it to any other sexual experience. Now that I know how Nico tastes like, bends like, moans like, it's like I will always need him when I know that I can have him.

"Don't call me baby."

I growl through my teeth before I slam my lips on his and he whimpers like he's never been kissed before. He shudders in my embrace when I deepen the kiss, wanting his tongue on mine, wanting to ruin him because he made me like this.

He is all heat and want and need as he grabs my hard-on and whispers, all cockiness gone. "Make me feel something. I need you to make me feel again. Please, Jordan."

He wriggles and tugs my shirt from my trousers, and I do the same to him. I am desperate to feel him, his warm, smooth skin and smell him—expensive cologne, pink champagne and sunshine. I watch him unzipping his fly, lowering his trousers together with underwear and leaning over the marbled sink. He's on display for me, asking, begging me to take him as he's watching my every move in the mirror in front of him.

And I lose all my reservations, the vein at my temple pulses, my hips don't stop moving like thunder, driving deep. In this most primal moment of my life, I use spit as lube and he doesn't seem to mind, he can't get enough of me, moaning, asking for more.

I know I won't last long when I feel his warm flesh tight around my dick after picking up the pace and Nico is returning each thrust by rocking himself back in demand for more. I bury my face in the nape of his neck, my vision blurred as I hold on to him through wave after wave of pleasure. I don't know how this happened, how my body disobeyed my brain again. I can't think when I'm around him. He confuses me, around him all I do is think about him.

I feel him trembling and as I'm met with both our reflections in the mirror my heart sinks when I see tears stream down his face. He chokes on his sobs as I hurriedly try to pull up my trousers. I am so startled by his outburst and the raw pain in his face that I forget everything else. He doesn't let me touch him when I reach out, just zips himself.

"Perdóname por favor, mierda.. fuck, I'm s-sorry.." He says and immediately unlocks the door and runs out. I just stand there, my pulse racing, stomach woozy and stare in disbelief at what happened.

He comes into my life again, wild and unexpected, like those unpredictable summer storms, when an umbrella is the last thing on your mind when you leave your house. He left me wet and miserable.

I don't know why but I decide to run for him.