“Nah,” he admits. “I just learned enough in high school to impress this Mexican chick I wanted to get with.” He turns to Matt again.“¿Hablar inglése?”Jared says next.
“Un poco,” Matt returns with a small gesture of his hand.
He sounds so convincing, especially compared to Jared. I find myself thinking about what he said—why I hadn’t chosen an Italian pretend boyfriend, given I’d spent three miserable weeks in Italy.
Italy wasn’t miserable, but I was. I’d sold myself the vacation as a summer to get over my broken heart. I had very firm plans of finding an Italian stallion to screw some sense back into me. Sadly, the only D I got while there was depression.
“You really don’t speak the same language?” Jared looks as confused as a cricket in a hubcap.
“We converse freely in the only language we need.” For show, and because I suddenly want to, I press my hand to Matt’s left cheek and my lips to his right. He makes a low, purring sound of surprise, then murmurs a string of seductive-sounding words. Words I can’t make sense of, though their effect feels like hot syrup sinking into me.
“Man, I love love.” Jamie sighs sweetly.
In the periphery of my vision, I note how Brandon sends him a death glare. “What did he say?” he demands.
Beats me,I almost answer as my brain plays catch-up. My blood seems to have drained from my brain to my lap. Oh. My. Lord. His mouth—the shapes it makes. That melodic rise and fall of his words. The man speaks Spanish, hallelujah!
But why the hell didn’t he mention that?
“I only know basic greetings andes calinete!” Jared says. “You’re hot.”
“No, no, eso no está bien,” Matt—Nate!—says with a laugh. “Not correct.Él está caliente.He is hot,” he repeats before turning my way. “Ella está caliente. She is hot.” This he kind of purrs as he strokes his hand down my face. “Ryan.”Holy rollingr’s.“Is beautiful.”
“Whoa,” someone murmurs. I can’t be sure who, and I’m not looking because I’m too busy staring into my pseudo boyfriend’s eyes. Eyes that seem to shine with a dark possessiveness.Man, he’s good.He’s obviously had a lot of practice, but good Lord, the man could melt the panties off a girl’s behind with just one look—no accent required!
My hottie inclines his head as he murmurs more of that sensual-sounding language, pulling me closer to whisper those sweet sexy somethings in my ear. It takes me a moment to catch on to his meaning, but somewhere in the shiver-inducing cadence, the husky rise and fall, I hear the wordcanoodle.
We’re a couple that canoodles.Fine by me, provided we don’t come anywhere close to second base in public.
“What’d he say?” Brandon demands once again, like a school bully who doesn’t get the joke. Maybe because he is the joke. And he is definitely the bully.
I flick Brandon a look that says:Like I’d tell you.
“So guys, this is my Nathaniel,” I begin, pawing his chest for good measure.It’s a hard job, but someone’s got to do it.“Nate, baby, these are my colleagues”—also known as the clowns I work with—“Tyler, Jared, Jamie, Kyle, and Dipesh. Why is Dipesh asleep?” I ask, watching his nodding head, his chin bouncing against his chest.
“Can’t hold his liquor,” Kyle supplies.
“You forgot to introduce me,” Brandon puts in.
“No, I didn’t forget.”
Five of the six offer varying degrees of lukewarm hellos, while Brandon just grunts.
“You just spoke to him in English.”
“Your point?” I slice Brandon with a look.
“And he spoke to you in Spanish.”
“Ten out of ten for observation.”
“Well?”
“We’re teaching each other. What the hell do you think we do all those hours on the phone?”
“I know what I’d be doing if I had a hot Spanish girlfriend,” Jared puts in lasciviously.
“There’s only so much phone sex one couple can have.”Or not, as the case may be,I think as I stroke my hand down Matt’s shirt. He feels like Michelangelo’sDavidunder there.
