Page 45 of Below the Barrel

She narrows her eyes, lips pursing slightly. “Shut up.”

I grin, my voice dropping lower. “Make me.”

She scoffs, but there’s no real anger behind it, just that teasing edge we’ve always had. “I hate you.”

I lean in just a little closer, brushing a thumb along the edge of the pool beside her. “No, you don’t.”

She opens her mouth, probably to argue, but then stops. Her breath catches again, and for a second, I think she’s going to close the distance between us. The tension is thick, the space practically buzzing.

“What do you want?” she asks finally, her voice soft but steady, and it catches me off guard.

The question reminds me too much of that moment we shared in Fiji. My first thought is simple—you. It’s all I want. But if I say it out loud, if we kiss here, it won’t just be like last time. This time, there’s no way we’d stop and I’m not sure if she’s ready for that yet.

“I think I’ve made it clear what I want, Princess,” I say instead.

She breaks eye contact, submerging herself in the water. She swims a lazy circle around me, and I stay still, letting her move freely. My gaze follows her, heart pounding. She’s drawing me in without even trying.

After a few seconds, I pull myself up to sit on the edge of the pool, water cascading down my body, and watch as she moves to the deep end. When she finally surfaces, our eyes meet again. Her expression is unreadable, but something in the way she’s looking at me keeps me rooted to the spot.

She swims over to the stairs, slowly climbing out of the pool, water dripping down her beautiful body as she wraps herself in a towel. Without another word or glance, she heads back into the house, leaving me alone by the pool.

I wait a few minutes, trying to sort out the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind, then push myself up and follow her inside. The coolness of the air conditioning hits my skin, and I hear the sound of water running from her ensuite bathroom. She’s in the shower. I pause outside her door, listening for a second before turning away and heading to my own room.

Carnaval is tonight. We’re going with the others, and I still need to get ready. I peel off my wet swim trunks and head for my bathroom, turning the shower on to full blast, hoping to clear my head. I’m about to step in when there’s a knock at the front door.

I grab my towel, wrapping it around my waist, and make my way down the hall to the door, opening it to find someone delivering our costumes for the night. Great timing. I grab the package, thanking the courier before I shut the door, and head back down the hall, stopping outside Maliah’s room.

The sound of her shower is still going when I knock softly, and without waiting for a response, I open the door. Steam fills the room, curling out from the open bathroom door, and I catch a glimpse of her silhouette through the frosted glass. My throat tightens before I drop her costume on the bed and turn to leave, but then I hear it—her moan.

It’s soft, barely there, but it echoes through my head like a gunshot. My body reacts instantly, heat pooling low in my stomach as I grit my teeth and force myself to leave her room. I close the door behind me, my heart hammering, and make my way back to my own bathroom.

The water is still running as I step into the shower, letting it pound against my skin, but it doesn’t cool me down. My mind keeps flashing back to her, to the sound of that moan, and before I know it, I’m jerking myself off to the thought of her.

Again.

SIXTEEN

MALIAH | RIO DE JANEIRO, BRAZIL

I stareat myself in the mirror, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of my Carnival costume. The vibrant colours were meant to stand out, but I feel almost naked in this outfit, more exposed than I’ve ever been outside of the ocean. My mind flashes back to finding it laying on my bed after my shower, and I wonder when Koa had dropped it off and whether or not he heard me in the shower. My face flushes at the thought, and I quickly push it away, trying to focus on something else.

My eyes drift down to the pink, puffy scar on my hip, just visible above the waistband of my costume. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, pulling me back to the day it happened when I slipped from a tree, the branch ripping into my side as I crashed to the ground.

I wince at the memory of how scared Koa had been, jumping out of the tree with that familiar mix of panic and concern in his voice, trying to joke and calm me down. He’d been my rock back then, always there to help me back up after I fell. Now everything feels different—complicated. I brush my fingers over the scar, a reminder of a simpler time when being around Koa didn’t make my head spin.

With a deep breath, I force myself to shake off the nostalgia.

It’s Carnival,I remind myself.You can do this.

I gather enough courage to open my bedroom door and walk into the living room, only to stop dead in my tracks. Koa is leaning against the edge of the couch, shirtless. My heart races as I take in the sight of him—his bronzed skin glowing under the soft lighting. He’s wearing a beaded necklace that hangs loosely around his neck, and the relaxed carnival themed pants he’s wearing sit low on his hips, emphasizing every chiseled muscle in his torso.

My breath catches in my throat. He looks incredible—too incredible. The pull I feel towards him is immediate and overwhelming, a rush of heat spreading through me like wildfire. I can hardly breathe as I watch him, my body responding to him in ways I can’t control.

“Did they forget the rest of your costume?” I ask, swallowing past the dryness in my throat. My voice comes out weaker than I intended, betraying my attempt at teasing him.

He scoffs, his lips curling into that familiar, cocky grin. “I could ask you the same question.” His eyes roam hungrily over my body, pausing momentarily on my scar before continuing their slow journey downward, sending shivers over my skin.

I shift on my feet, feeling self-conscious under his gaze, even though I shouldn’t be. The way he’s looking at me…it’s as if he’s memorizing every inch, every curve, every flaw. “We should go,” I murmur, fighting the urge to cover myself. “The others are probably waiting for us.”

---