Unfortunately, even after five orgasms in a row, imagining Mateo thrusting into me, jerking off, going down on me, I still hadn’t found the peace I so desperately craved. I tossed and turned all night and practically sleepwalked through the morning sessions.

After the nap, I still wasn’t that refreshed, probably because some hooligan was outside yelling at me. I growled in frustration and then got up. I flung myself at the iron railing and screamed, “WHAT?!” my hair blowing around me like a lion’s mane.

Down and across from me on the lawn of the dining hall a ragtag group of people had gathered, maybe a dozen.

I could see Mateo standing on the side of the group, wearing what looked to be jeans, a t-shirt and running shoes. My god, not a slick suit in sight!

At the front of the group was Eduardo who was wearing ridiculously tight shorts, knee-high socks and had a soccer ball under his arm. “We need another Anglo to make this even!” he yelled right back.

Didn’t these people realize that not only did I need some alone time each day, but I hated most sports. Give me tennis, give me skiing, give me my horseback riding but never sign me up for a god damn team sport.

Plus, Mateo was there and his forest green t-shirt showed off the V shape of his upper body, the strength of his tanned arms and his jeans looked really worn in, in that sexy mechanic kind of way. I couldn’t see his ass but I knew it looked amazing.

Maybe you’ll burn off your crazy libido, I thought to myself as I was getting hot and bothered all over again. It was either going to help or make it worse. Seemed I couldn’t really win while I was here.

I grumbled to myself and retreated to my room where I slipped on a pair of jean shorts that I knew made my ass look fine and my Chuck Taylors. Not the best soccer shoe but it would have to do. I quickly gulped down a glass of water at the sink and then ran down the stairs to join them.

“Okay,” I announced, waving my hands in the air. “I’m here, I’m here.”

I briefly made eye contact with Mateo before I was immediately sequestered over to the Anglo’s side. At least I got to see him turn around and join his team, proving that yes, his firm ass looked deliciously biteable in those jeans. Damn it.

“Vera!” Lauren snapped.

Oh great, she was here. I slowly turned around and glared at her.

She was already glaring at me through her glitter glasses, eyeing my boobs angrily. Was it because I was wearing an American Apparel top again? I thought we already went over this.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a sports bra,” she said, “or something more appropriate for the sport?”

I somehow both raised my brows and narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

Sure this top showed skin, but most of my shirts did. When did she become the cleavage police? Wasn’t she supposed to be a feminist?

Wayne stepped forward, dressed head to toe in Nike gear that looked like it was being used for the first time. He was trying really hard not to look at my boobs. “As team captain here, I say that what Vera is wearing is fine.”

“You too?” Lauren scoffed, turning to look at him, which kind of reminded me of Linda Blair in The Exorcist when her head goes all the way around. “What is it with you married men? Does the sanctity of marriage vows mean nothing anymore?”

Wayne’s expression turned into that of a scolded child. “I’m sorry?”

“I have to agree with Lauren,” Tyler said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your top is distracting.”

“Shut up, you Brony,” I said. He looked appalled while I heard Wayne whisper, “What’s a Brony?”

“Come on, you guys,” Polly admonished, bouncing back and forth on each leg. Though she was wearing a tight t-shirt, her fake boobs still jostled around and yet Lauren wasn’t signalling her out. “It’s just a stupid football match. Let’s just play. Who gives a rat’s arse what anyone is wearing, I want that damn dinner.”

Apparently whatever team was going to win the match next week was going to get treated to a dinner in a fancy restaurant out in town, like we were episode winners on a reality show or something. The thing was, I didn’t want to spend yet another dinner with some of these people. If I won a dinner by myself, then yes, that would be a prize.

“Let’s hear it for dinner!” Wayne yelled and clapped his hands together, happy to have a segue off of whatever the fuck was going on with Lauren. “Okay team. Let’s go, let’s go.” While he waved everyone over to him to huddle and pick positions, I reached out and grabbed Lauren’s shoulder.

Kind of hard.

“What the hell is your problem with me?” I whispered as I spun her around to face me. Seriously, I had enough of her and her snarky, hateful attitude. She was pretty much the one thing that was putting a damper on Las Palabras.

She leaned in close. She smelled…not good. “I don’t like you,” she seethed, eyes wide and bright, like she was about to go apeshit on me.

“Why?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Yes you have. You’ve done something to the whole female gender.”

Oh my god, what the fuck.

“I don’t like women who use sex to achieve what they want. Women are better than that.”

“What sex?” I asked, befuddled, pissed-off and a whole bunch of things. “I’m not having sex.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know his wife could find out everything.”

“There’s nothing to find out!” I yelled at her. By now it was quite apparent that we were having a little war on the corner of the lawn and the rest of our team was watching us impatiently. Thank goodness the Spaniards were further away and Mateo wasn’t picking up on any of this.

“You keep telling yourself that,” she said. “But I know girls like you. You make my life harder every single day.”

“Do you ever stop and think,” I said, waving my finger in her face, “that you make your life harder on yourself?”

She put her hands on her hips. “You have no clue, do you?”

“No,” I said just as I looked past Lauren’s shoulder and saw Sammy kick the soccer ball in our direction. I took a step back from Lauren and watched as the soccer ball slammed into the back of her head. “You have no clue.”

Lauren cried out, her glasses falling off her face and onto the grass.

“Heads up!” Sammy yelled with a smirk on her face.

I left Lauren to pick up her glasses and ran along to join the team, cleavage be damned.

After the little kerfuffle with Lauren, the rest of the game went pretty smoothly. Even though it was just supposed to be a practice match, Jerry was acting as ref and he was so into the game that he decided to cancel everyone’s first business session of the day and continue with the game instead. Everyone that wasn’t playing got to pull up the wicker chairs and watch from the sidelines.

I wished that’s what I could have done, instead I was running back and forth and pretty much fucking things up until Wayne put me in as goalie. Which would have been an okay gig if you were on the Spanish side, because none of the Anglos were even coming close to the net.

And the Spanish team had Mateo.

And Mateo was a fucking soccer god.

The one good thing about being in goal was that I had a very clear shot of the field (well, lawn), and the ball and wherever the ball was, Mateo was.

Even though we were playing on a lawn like bunch of grade-schoolers and the goal posts were nothing more than two orange traffic cones and Mateo was playing in jeans, he moved with the grace of a dancer, executed kicks and plays like he was in the stadium playing for Madrid. Everyone was kind of in awe, more watching him than actually playing seriously. And no one cared, because this was something you didn’t get to see every day.

The most amazing thing about the whole experience was the look on Mateo’s face. It was constantly lit up, like a spectacular sunrise that you never expected to catch. I sometimes caught glimpses of that look when I was talking to him but for the most part, Mateo came across as charming, witty, relaxed—and distant. There was always some edge, some darkness to him just rolling beneath the businessman exterior. But here, on the field, the way the ball danced with his feet, the way his supple body moved like he was in an intricate dance, it was like he’d come alive again.