Page 113 of Double Fault

Maybe I should be embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state, but the pure wonder and appreciation only make me braver.

When my body stops contracting around his, he carries me out of the pool and over to a chaise beneath a covered section of the deck.

He slips out of me, but only so he can adjust my boneless body the way he wants it. With my left leg hooked over his shoulder, he slides back into me, and when he’s seated fully, we let out twin moans.

How is every movement so incredible?

Sex has never beenbadbefore. I’ve had some mediocre encounters, sure, but I can say for certain that Noah is the best I’ve ever had. By far. He knows exactly how to play my body to get the best response.

The sparks that constantly fly when we’re together terrify me. Because it would be all too easy to become addicted to the high of him.

“I’m going to come,” he warns me, the veins in his neck straining. His abdominals flex, then he’s pulling out and pumping himself in vigorous strokes until hot jets of cum spray across my belly.

His chest heaves as he takes me in, the mess he’s made of me. “You look like a fucking goddess.”

My body spasms in response to the heat of his words.

As he looks his fill, goose bumps dimple my skin, and my nipples grow impossibly hard.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He hikes his swim shorts up, then strides to a nearby storage locker and returns with a small stack of towels.

He dips the end of one towel into the pool and wrings it out, then returns to my side. He sets the dry towel down, then uses the damp one to wipe my stomach clean. He frowns the whole time, like he’s sad to see the mess he’s made go.

Then, as if I’m a rag doll, he scoops me up, wraps the dry towel around me, and carries me toward the door, bending to fetch my wet sleepwear as he goes.

“I can’t go inside in nothing but a towel,” I protest.

He holds up the ball of my wet clothes and water sluices down his arm. “You don’t have much choice, Curls.”

I glower at him, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“Don’t tell me that post-orgasmic glow is fading already.” He grips my chin. “I’ll fuck you harder next time.”

He covers my mouth with a kiss before I can retort, effectively shutting me up.

“It’s late. No one is going to see you.”

I blink at him. “Someone could be in the elevator.”

He wets his lips, but the gesture does nothing to hide his growing smile, then walks off.

I don’t follow. Fuck him if he thinks I’m going to waddle after him like a little duckling.

At a nearby table, he stops and picks up a small bundle, then he returns. “It may not be long enough, but you can wear this.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulls a giant hoodie over my head and yanks the towel from my body. The scent of the garment—the scent ofhim—nearly drowns me. I gulp in air. I’d be happy if I never breathe regular oxygen again.

“There,” he says as he carefully pulls my hair out. “Better?”

I’m completely naked under it, but it’s long enough to cover all the important parts and is definitely more modest than the minuscule towel.

“Thank you.”

The two words sound oddly vulnerable.

“You’re welcome.” He stares at me for a moment, a war waging behind those eyes, then, expression falling like he’s lost the war, he kisses me. It’s not rough like before. There’s no biting. It’s… sweet. Gentle. It’s a kiss meant for a person he truly cares care about.

Before I can read too much into it, he pulls away.

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