Free Team Tomás (The Saints Team #2) by Ally Adams Page A

intently into my eyes. His brown eyes were so
compelling.
    My mind was going through a
thousand scenarios in milliseconds, thinking of what I might have done wrong or
didn’t do at all.
    Tomás ran a finger around my palm
and up my arm, giving me tingles. He lowered his voice.
    “Sitting here and not being able to have you to
myself is...” His breathing increased and as if on cue, Felipe arrived again to
clear the plates and Tomás sat back, thanking him.
    I cleared my throat and found my
voice. I made some conversation so it wasn’t awkward in the silence.
    “So,” I asked again, “when did you
last go home?”
    Tomás drank some more cola before
answering. “At the end of last season, about four months ago.”
    “Do you miss it?” I asked.
    Tomás exhaled and leaned forward,
looking me in the eyes.
    “No.” He shrugged.
    “No, not a bit? No, not this week?
Or no, not ever?” I asked, studying him.
    “Don’t get me wrong, I love my
family, but there’s a lot of them.” He smiled. “That’s how I got the nickname
‘Pez’. When my family visited last year, someone at the club said it was like
seeing a Pez dispenser of Carreras.” He smiled and shook his head. He was so
adorable. “But I am free here. My only responsibility is to play well for the
team and to keep my contract. At home, it is always duty.” He finished his
cola, and chased it down with a half glass of water.
    I did the same because the meal
had been spicy.
    I started to put two and two
together about us—Tomás and me—but before I could explore it further, Tomás
pulled out his wallet and put more cash on the table.
    “Come Cookie, let’s get out of
here.” He rose and hurried me along. “I’m scrapping the next part of the great
date... no more people around us. I want to show you something.”
    “Thank you, Tomás, for tapas,” I
said, accepting his hand as he helped me out of the booth. He pulled me into
him, gave me a kiss, and grinned at me.
    “The pleasure is mine,” he said,
stopping to look at me for just a moment. “Let’s go.”
    He kept my hand in his and I
hurried to keep up with him. We left with the same raucous round of greetings—farewells
this time—and Tomás stopped to sign an autograph and appear in a selfie with a
young fan at the entrance. We returned to Tomás’s car and he saw me in again
before coming around to the driver’s side. This time, he took off fast and we
headed towards the beach. He parked away from the madding crowd.
    “You might want to leave your
shoes,” Tomás suggested. He pulled his black leather dress shoes and socks off
and rolled up his suit pants a few inches. I left my bag and shoes in the car
and exited. He met me at the front of the car, and taking my hand, walked me
towards the beach. He leapt the two steps down to the dune, turned around, and
lifted me down. When my feet touched the sand, he didn’t let me go but pulled
me closer.
    “There’s nothing here but the
waves, moonlight and solitude,” he said, and sighed.
    “Perfect,” I whispered.
    Tomás put his hand in my hair, and
leaned into me, kissing me softly then deeply. I slid my hands into his open
coat and onto his white T-shirt. I lightly ran my nails down his back and he
stiffened... everywhere.
    I could hear the waves crashing
and Tomás’s controlled breathing. My own heartbeat sounded as though it could
lead the school band. He slowly pulled away, wrapping an arm around my shoulder,
and we walked down the beach. I left my arm around his waist, inside his
jacket.
    “I couldn’t concentrate before, with
all those people around and your legs inside mine,” he said.
    Thousands of pins and needles
tingled me everywhere. He was so smooth, very dangerous for a young blood like
me. But I soaked it all in, trying to capture every minute in my mind’s camera.
I shivered, not from the cool air, but as tingles from being near him rushed my
skin. Before I had time to explain I wasn’t cold, he slipped his