Sliding into the hot bath, she let her mind drift back to the man sleeping in the other room. Her hand skated over her small breasts, bobbing at the surface of the water, plucking at her already-hard nipples as she thought of his hands on her. How had she never realized before how big his hands were? A piano player’s hands—large and strong with long dexterous fingers. As her hand drifted lower over her body, she thought of all the things he could do with those fingers.
She skated the vibe over her folds. When the toy found her clit, already swollen and aching, she imagined it was Noah touching her instead. His fingers teasing at her entrance, his tongue building her into a frenzy, until her hips rocked against the toy, the water in the bath sloshing around her. And when she couldn’t take it anymore, she imagined it was him working her clit until she came with a breathless gasp, the pleasure rocketing through her and curling her toes.
As her orgasm subsided, she knew she should feel guilty—not because she’d masturbated to thoughts of Noah (that was nothing new), but because she’d done it while he was in the next room. But instead, she was just even more turned on than before, knowing that he might have heard her through the thin wall separating them, that he might have woken with a hard cock to the sounds of her getting herself off.
With a mournful glance at her trusty finger vibe, she silently lamented that the few other pieces from her extensive toy collection that she’d thought to pack were in her suitcase in the other room, destined to remain unused on this trip no matter how horny she was. With a sigh, she sank deeper into the tub and resisted the urge to go another round. Because even though the idea of getting herself off while Noah was just on the other side of the door made her incredibly hot, she knew she couldn’t do it again. The risk of being caught was too high and, unlike in her fantasies, he wasn’t likely to join her if he found her flushed with a toy between her legs—he was more likely to turn tail and run. She couldn’t afford to spook him, not when so much was riding on this week together.
∞∞∞
“Get dressed. We’re going for a run.”
Liam stared at Noah through the open crack of his door, his hair a mess of bedhead and sleep still clouding his eyes. “I don’t run,” he grumbled.
“Tough shit.”
“Youdon’t run.”
“We do today.”
Liam gave in surprisingly quickly, but whether it was the way Noah couldn’t stand still, pacing the hallway in his gym shorts and sneakers, or the sleepy encouragement from his fiancée, Noah didn’t know. Or, frankly, care. He needed to get his blood pumping and he needed to get as far the fuck away from his own hotel room as he could.
Not your own. Yours and Callie’s.
Right. That was exactly the problem.
He’d had to get out of there. It had taken all his self-control to leave when what he wanted to do was put his hand on his fucking traitorous dick, hard as steel and far too aware of every sound coming from the bathroom, and join her as she fell over the edge of her pleasure.
Liam emerged in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “You owe me.”
They made their way out of The Barclay and down the lawn to the private beach in silence. After a few cursory stretches, they were off, jogging through the sand with the hotel at their back.
“You want to tell me why you’re suddenly a runner?” Liam asked.
“Nope.”
A few more minutes in silence, around another bend of the shoreline. “Did something happen with Callie?”
Noah shot him a look but kept jogging. “The point of going for a run is not to talk.”
“How the fuck would I know that? I don’t run. But if you didn’t want to talk, seems to me you could have gone on this little run by yourself.”
Noah slowed his pace, the hotel now far enough behind them that the knot in his chest had loosened. Just a little, but it was better than nothing. “Callie—” he began, cutting himself off.Am I really going to tell Liam this?
“Yes, your fake girlfriend—who, up until twenty-four hours ago, was basically our little sister. I’m familiar,” Liam said with a nod.
“Callie needed some privacy this morning.” Noah shot his friend a meaningful glance before he began running again. “And she’s not basically our little sister.” He wouldn’t have been tempted to stay and listen to what he’d overheard that morning, or—worse yet—to join in, if that was the case.
“What does that mean?” Liam asked, matching Noah’s pace.
“When I woke up, she was…in the bath…having some alone time.”
“Most people like privacy when they’re taking a bath.” Liam’s eyes widened and realization dawned. “Oh! No shit.” He shoved Noah, his brows drawing down into a scowl. “Fuck, I didn’t need to know that. That’s Callie you’re talking about. Little Callie Cole with the braces and the—”
“She’s not little Callie Cole anymore. And she hasn’t had braces for years.”
“Wait,” Liam said, slowing until he stopped. “You’re not fu—”
“Jesus, fuck, no!” Noah said, driving his hands into his hair. “It’s all a show, man. I told you.”
