Page 38 of Below the Barrel

I catch her wrist, stopping her before I lose control. “You know,” I whisper, locking my gaze with hers, “you’re going to have to share that bed with me again tonight. And after this…” I trail off, letting the implication hang between us.

Her eyes widen, and for a second, I think she’s going to pull away. But instead, she smirks, a boldness coming through. “You wish,” she shoots back, though her voice wavers slightly.

The conversation fades as we continue spreading the mud over each other’s skin, the intimacy of the moment hanging between us. Every touch, every gentle caress, feels heavy with unspoken words, a quiet tension simmering just below the surface.

Eventually, she speaks again, her voice quieter now, “Last night…sleeping next to you…it was?—”

“Comfortable,” I finish for her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” she agrees, her eyes focused on the mud as she continues to spread it over my chest. “It wasn’t awkward or anything. It just felt…natural.”

I nod. “It felt like that for me when we shared my bed back at the hotel in Australia too. If anything, sleeping next to you earns me the best nights of sleep I’ve had in a while.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Same.”

There’s a brief silence before she asks, “Do you think it’ll be like that every night for the next two weeks?”

I smirk, my hands pausing as I meet her gaze. “I hope so.”

“Me too,” she whispers.

And just like that, the tension between us thickens, but it’s not the kind that makes you want to run. It’s the kind that makes you want to lean in, to see what happens next. The heat between us spikes, the tension crackling in the air. Just as I’m about to close the distance between us, an attendant clears their throat.

“Time to wash off so the next group can come in,” she says politely, but the interruption is enough to break the moment. Maliah’s face burns crimson as she glances away quickly. I can’t help but smirk as I watch her climb out of the pool, the thoughts swirling in my head far from innocent. I can’t wait to get back to the villa now.

The moon is out,casting a bright glow across the water when we get back to the villa. Maliah walks inside first, her hair still damp from the hot springs, skin practically glowing. I follow behind her, my eyes on her—always on her. She moves through the room with this quiet grace, even when she’s pretending like she doesn’t know I’m watching her.

“I’m so sore, I don’t think I can move,” she groans, stretching her arms over head, her top riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of her waist. “That was way too much adventure for one day.”

I smirk, leaning against the wall, crossing my arms. “What, you didn’t enjoy me holding you for dear life on the zip line?”

She shoots me a playful glare, walking past me towards the bedroom. “Don’t flatter yourself. I could’ve done it without you.”

“Sure you could’ve,” I call after her, chuckling as I head to the kitchen. “You want something to drink? Water? Wine?”

There’s a pause before she answers, “Wine sounds good.”

I grab two glasses and pour the wine, hearing her rummaging around in the bedroom. By the time she comes back, she’s changed into tiny shorts and a cropped tank top, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She looks too comfortable, too damn tempting, and it’s hard to keep my thoughts straight.

She sits beside me on the couch, keeping a little space between us, but I can still feel the tension hanging thick in the air, like we’ve been dancing around something all day. I hand her the wine glass, taking a sip of mine as I settle back, trying to act casual even though my mind is anything but.

After a few quiet minutes, I can’t help myself. I glance at her, then ask, “Do you ever think about it?”

Her brows furrow, confused. “Think about what?”

“Us,” I say, watching her closely. “Sharing a bed…last night…everything that’s happened between us.”

Her body stills for a second, and I can see the way her fingers tighten around her glass, like she’s bracing herself. I don’t rushher to answer though, I know she has a million thoughts running through her head right now, and I want to hear them—every single one.

“How could I not?” she finally admits, keeping her eyes on her wine.

I put my glass down on the coffee table, turning full towards her. “And what do you think when you do?”

She takes a slow breath, her eyes darting to mine for a split second before she looks away again. I can tell she’s trying to find the right words, but I don’t need much more than that—her hesitation says it all.

“I think…” she starts, but then stops, biting her bottom lip.

My eyes zero in on the motion, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and close the gap between us. Her breathing grows fast, and I can tell she’s battling herself, trying to figure out what to say.

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