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I fucking faked it.
Kegels engaging, I pulsed around Diego’s fingers as I bowed my back and made all the appropriate moans and twitches.
Oliver loomed over me, one brow cocked.
“Love? What was that?”
My cheeks flamed. He knew. No one else had ever figured out I was faking with them. Or maybe they did, but didn’t care enough to call me on it or figure out how to make me come.
“What was what?” Diego asked, removing his fingers from my sleep shorts and sitting back on his heels. He looked from me to Oliver and back again. “I made her come.”
He looked so earnest in his expression. His eyes were round and confused in the dim moonlight. His excitement from earlier was deflating in front of my eyes. As was his cock from what I could feel against my hip.
“Yeah, mate,” Oliver said, keeping his eyes locked with mine. Why was he covering for me?
“Come on, we’ve woken up at least half the room. Let’s get some sleep,” Diego said.
I gestured to him and his half-mast salute. “What about you?” I asked. If I couldn’t deliver on my own orgasm, maybe I could help deliver his.
Even though I had trouble finishing with partners, I stillreallyenjoyed sex. The intimacy, the act itself, and watching your partner fall apart when you pushed the right buttons. All of it was incredibly satisfying, even if I never orgasmed.
“Tonight was about you, Soph. Reciprocity is nice, but it’s not required. I just want to hold you now. Is that okay?”
This sweet, sweet, sexy man wanted to cuddle. Like I would say no to that.
Diego pulled me close, fulfilling the role of the big spoon, and turned me so I faced Oliver. He hadn’t said a thing since he figured out what I’d done, and the way he was studying my face told me he was far from done with this topic.
“Sleep, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
Yet. The word clanged in my head.
As if he read my mind, Oliver shook his head, rejecting the thought, and gazed at my guilty face.
Would I ever get over this bullshit? I knew I could do it. I’d been a proficient orgasm haver—orgasmer?—since first discovering what that little bundle did. But somehow, when in bed with someone else, I was defective.
No, not defective. I just got lost in my head. Was I posed correctly? What on earth did his view look like from down there? Was there milk in the fridge for coffee in the morning? How many licksdidit take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?
You know, normal shit.
Fucking hell. I felt like I was under a microscope, and Oliver was the big, sexy scientist, ready to examine every facet of little ole me. Diego settled behind me, curling his body around mine and molding himself to my back. He was warm and smelled divine, comforting me without words or thought.
Within minutes, Diego’s breathing evened out. I kept my gaze fixed on Oliver’s eyes, a soft smile on his lips. He smoothed a thumb over the wrinkle between my brows and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. “So soft.”
I ducked my head against Diego’s arm—aka, my new pillow. Oliver tipped my chin until we were at eye level again.
“We’ll talk about this eventually, if you’re willing, but no, I am not judging you. In case you needed to hear the words.” My eyes must have shown my disbelief, because he leaned down and gently kissed me. “Sleep,” he murmured against my lips.
CHAPTERTEN
Oliver
Wakingup next to Sophie quickly became my favorite thing about the Caribbean, and I was more than a little shocked at how quickly my feelings were growing. She was smart and sweet and never laughed at me when I found myself on a tangent of random facts.
Her face was relaxed in sleep next to mine, our foreheads barely brushing. I studied every inch of her face, noting a small beauty mark beside her nose, so faint I’d missed it earlier.
As the lights flicked on, signaling the start of another day in paradise, her eyelids fluttered, and she let out a soft, contented sigh.
“Did you dream well, love?” I murmured, pulling her from sleep’s embrace. Her eyes opened slowly, and I ran a hand down the soft curve of her hip, feeling the swell of her belly on my palm.
