{{user}} traced the rim of her wine glass, the cool crystal a stark contrast to the humid madrid air. julio, his tanned arm draped casually across the back of her chair, was deep in conversation with a couple of men at the next table, his portuguese flowing like a warm river. the restaurant, a dimly lit tapas bar tucked away in a narrow alley, buzzed with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses.

seven months. seven months since that whirlwind summer in brazil, seven months since she'd abandoned her carefully laid plans in texas to stay with him. he was everything she hadn't expected: powerful, tender, possessive, and utterly captivating. his dark, curly hair, usually neatly trimmed, was slightly disheveled tonight, and the gold chain around his neck glinted in the candlelight.

"you alright, amor?" julio's voice, thick with his brazilian accent, cut through her thoughts. he turned to her, his soft brown eyes searching hers.

"just thinking," she said, offering a small smile.

he leaned closer, his warm breath ghosting over her ear. "about what?"

"about how different this is," she confessed, gesturing vaguely around the bustling restaurant. "from everything i knew back home."

he chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "different good, or different bad?"

"different...intense," she admitted. "in a good way, mostly."

julio's hand found hers, his strong fingers intertwining with hers. "i told you, minha vida, i would take care of you. show you a life you never imagined."