Page 20 of Below the Barrel

Her blush deepens and she shoots me a quick, embarrassed look. “Stop saying it like that.”

I tilt my head curiously. “Saying what, like what?”

“My name,” she huffs. “The way you say it.”

Her reaction is intriguing, it’s a side of Mal I don’t think I’ve seen in a very long time. I scoot closer to her, leaning forwards as she watches me with nervous eyes.

“Maliah,” I repeat, drawing out her name teasingly.

My eyes dart to her thighs, noticing how she squeezes them together before she lets out a shaky exhale.

Interesting.

“Mal—”

“Koa, I swear to God,” she says exasperated. “Stop saying my name like that.”

I raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Like how?”

“Like you…like you want to…I don’t know! Likethat!”

I don’t miss the look of embarrassment and longing in her eyes, and I can’t hold back my smile with how flustered she’s becoming.

This could be fun.

I lean even closer to her, my eyes catching on her perfect lips, before I force myself to look into her eyes.

“Maliah,” I say again.

“Shut up,” she snaps, her voice a mixture of annoyance and something softer.

Something vulnerable.

“Make me,” I challenge, my gaze locked onto her.

I’m so close to her that I feel the warmth of her shaky breathing tickle my nose. The tension is palpable, almost like a crackling energy electrifying the air around us. Her eyes traildown to my lips, and I watch in anticipation as she fights to hide the lust from her expression.

She wants me to kiss her.

And I almost do, but a knock at the door shatters the connection and she leaps backward in an instant, her back thudding against the wall behind her as her panicked eyes fly up to mine. I hold her gaze, struggling to mask my disappointment while also trying to absorb the realization that this moment has irrevocably changed everything between us.

Her frantic reaction confirms that as much as she likes to pretend that she hates me, she still feels something for me beneath the surface. Whether it’s genuine affection or just physical attraction, I’m not sure, but I know that regardless, it gives me a chance to fix things between us.

This is the turning point I’ve been patiently waiting for.

With a deep, resigned sigh, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and head toward the door. I spot a hotel staff member pushing a breakfast cart, holding Maliah’s extra key card in his hand.

Maliah darts past me, snatching the key card from him in a hurry, and running out into the hall.

“I’ll take my breakfast in my room,” she says swiftly, barely concealing her urgency to get away from me.

Without waiting for a response or offering another glance my way, she bolts into her room. I notice she’s still wearing my oversized T-shirt and I glance back into my room, spotting the outfit she had worn the night before folded neatly on a chair.

Turning back to the staff member, I offer him a polite smile before taking my food tray and closing the door behind me. The soft click of the latch echoes in my now quiet room, but I still feel the tension from earlier coiled within me. I place the tray on the edge of my bed and lift the cover, revealing a protein packed plate of eggs, sausages, and bacon. The aroma of the food doesnothing to mask the scent of Maliah in my room, reminding me she was here only moments ago.

I lower myself onto the bed and try to focus on eating, knowing I’ll need every ounce of energy to get through today’s surf competition, my stomach growling in anticipation. But my mind isn’t on the food, it’s on Maliah and the memory of our earlier moment—an intense, electric connection that is still buzzing beneath my skin. I can still feel the warmth of her body and it sends a shiver down my spine.

With a frustrated sigh, I set the tray aside, abandoning the idea of breakfast altogether. Pushing myself off the bed, I head toward the bathroom in hopes that a cold shower will be enough to cool down both my body and my thoughts.

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