Chapter 6 Noah
SIX
NOAH
Forget fuck-me red lips. Her ass in that red bathing suit will be the star of every single fantasy I have for the next year.
And the peeks of skin the little holes in her dress gave me?
Every damn inch of it—from her tits to her stomach to her goddamn thighs—teased me and taunted me, slashing at my restraint.
I was a heartbeat away from slamming my lips to hers, then pressing them against every indecent hole.
By some miracle, the logical part of my brain came back online, and I rushed into my villa before I gave in to the temptation.
I’ve always prided myself on being a decent man. A good one, even. But I do love to make a woman come. I actually prefer it to my own pleasure.
However, I don’t ogle women, and I don’t hang out in strip clubs or even regular clubs, really.
Sure, I’ve had a couple of one-night stands, though I’ve always been clear of my intentions going into them.
Outside of those few incidents, I believe in taking a woman out on a date and treating her right before even thinking about seeing her naked.
Even before I discovered I had a child on the way, my schedule left no time for dating, which means I rarely have sex.
But Sienna?
Sienna has altered my brain chemistry. She’s damaged the parts of my mind where self-control dominates, leaving me with all kinds of dirty thoughts.
Fuck. The things I want to do to her. Suddenly, I’ve been overtaken with the need to make her moan my name, then chant it in that flirty fucking tone that has me hard as fucking stone right now.
She’s young. Far too young for the things I want to do to her. She can’t be more than a year or two out of college.
And in a matter of weeks, I’ll be a single dad.
Could I lose myself in her for a few days? Enjoy the time we have together and never look back?
Unlikely. She’s the type of woman a man doesn’t forget.
The whole point of this trip was to get my head on straight. To relax. Unwind. And prepare for fatherhood.
There’d be nothing relaxing about this weekend if I spent it with her. I’m the opposite of relaxed right now. Wound tight thinking of all the things I want to do to her.
No. I won’t sleep with her. I won’t even see her again. Tomorrow morning, I’ll go down to the concierge, thank them for this lovely upgrade, and politely beg them to move me to the room farthest from Sienna. Then I’ll stay inside, ensuring I don’t run into her again.
Yes. That’s a plan.
With a relieved sigh, I grab a beer from the mini fridge—might as well enjoy the amenities of the villa while I’ve got them—and head outside to enjoy the warm night.
As I step outside, a breeze whips the curtains on Sienna’s deck, catching my attention. Dammit. She’s still too close.
Forcing myself to look away, I shuffle to the railing. I clutch the metal, still warm from the day, and take in the moon where it hangs just above the crashing waves.
With a swig of beer, I soak up the beauty in front of me.
This is the type of break I need. Just me and the ocean. A moment to get my head on straight.
Practice starts in two weeks. Coach is going to lose his shit when he finds out about the baby. My teammates might at first, but they’ll be supportive. They’re a good group, and we’re set to have a good season, but it won’t be the same without War.
For ten years, I’ve played almost every game with my best friend at my side.
That kind of shit never lasts, though. It was a miracle we ended up on the same pro team after college.
He’ll freak the fuck out too when I tell him about the baby. Then, when I tell him about Sienna, he’ll give me all kinds of hell. If he were in my place, he’d lose himself in the gorgeous woman next door. Then he’d man the fuck up and be the best damn father ever.
Maybe I should have lost myself in Sienna for the night.
I picture the night going differently. What would she have done if I’d pushed her back through that door, scooped her into my arms, and carried her to the edge of her bed?
If I’d slid that tease of a dress up her thighs and settled between them?
I’d have kissed her long and hard before lifting that dress over her head.
Then I would have taken my time learning every inch of her body.
The way her breasts would heave as I traced a line down her neck with my tongue.
The way her nipples would pebble behind the flimsy red fabric of her suit as her back arched and she begged me to pull it off.
I’d finally know what she tastes like.
The sounds she’d make as I—
Wait, what the fuck is that sound?
I tilt my head, tuning out the waves in the distance, and sure enough, I hear the distinct echo of a moan. It’s breathy and indecent. A yes followed by another whimper. Then a fuck yes.
All the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. Holy shit, that’s Sienna.
Eyes squeezed shut, I remind myself that storming back to her room and banging on her door is a bad idea. That jumping this gate and rushing through the open doors is wrong.
I take three steps closer, my free hand locked tight around the fence separating our decks, getting as close as I can. From here, I can hear every whimpering breath she lets out as she pleasures herself.
It’s not quick. No, I should have known that Sienna would take her time.
She edges herself, breathing out yeses over and over again, her tone sultry and dripping with need, until I’m leaking in my shorts.
I don’t dare touch myself. I should go inside and close the doors, but I can’t pull myself away.
I stand stock-still, listening as her voice carries over the ocean breeze until she’s wrung every ounce of pleasure out of her body and comes with a loud moan.
Only when I’m sure she’s finished, only as the wind teases her curtains, taunting me, telling me that if I’d leaned forward a little more, I could have seen her, do I go back into my bedroom and fist my cock until I’m spurting cum all over my goddamn stomach to thoughts of her and those damn sounds she made.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re completely booked.” The man behind the counter eyes me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
He’s not wrong.
I’ve already gotten off twice this morning, thinking of Sienna, replaying her sounds. Once in bed because I was too damn hard to even walk after waking in the middle of a dream of her bouncing on my cock, then again in the shower as I fantasized about her red lips circling my crown.
If I have to hear those moans again, I won’t survive. I’m already in danger of rubbing my dick raw.
“Give someone else the upgrade. I’ll switch. I’m sure there’s a couple here who’d be thrilled with a villa on the ocean.”
Yes, I’m begging him to downgrade my accommodations. It’s ridiculous, but I’m desperate. I haven’t even tasted the woman, and already, I know she’d become an addiction. One taste could never be enough.
“A villa, huh?”
I turn and assess the two older gentlemen standing a couple of feet behind me.
One is tall and bald, his head as shiny as a bowling ball, with a round face to match.
His cheeks are red from the sun and his grin is wide.
The other is even taller, with a full head of white hair like Ted Danson and wears a cocky smirk.
“Sure sounds nice,” the man with the white hair says. “What’s wrong with it? Infestation?”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Nope. Gorgeous room. Just too nice.”
In unison, their smiles fall and their eyes go narrow, scrutinizing. “Too nice?” the bald man says.
Crossing my arms, I back up against the counter, leaning on it for support, and fully embrace the excuse. “Yup. The bed is too soft and the comforter is too silky against my skin. And the shower? Fuck, don’t even get me started on the shower.”
“And you don’t want to stay there,” Ted Danson’s lookalike says. It’s not really a question. There’s no lilt to his tone. Just a plainly phrased statement.
“I’m used to crappy hotels. Hockey player.” I raise a hand. “So it comes with the territory. My mattress at home is terrible, and the places they put us up while we travel are worse. If I stay in that villa, it’ll throw off my sleep when I get back. Superstitions and all that.”
“I don’t even think that was a sentence,” Baldy says.
Ted Danson shakes his head. “He said he plays hockey. Probably been hit in the head a few too many times.”
I nod. “Definitely true. So where’s your room?”
“Sir, we don’t allow the bartering of rooms,” the concierge says.
Ted Danson’s twin holds up his hand. “No bartering happening. We’ll leave you alone. Let you get back to your work.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder and guides me away from the desk. “Does this room have two beds?”
I shake my head. “No, but it’s a king.”
The two men share a look, and movements in sync, they shrug. “Why don’t you take us to it? I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
Clearly out of my mind, I guide them down the paths of the resort toward the villa. Did I mention they’re both taller than I am? Like, ridiculously tall. “I’m Noah, by the way.”
“Bert,” Baldy says.
“Ernie,” says Ted Danson.
Lip curling, I turn back and eye them.
They burst into laughter.
“We get that reaction a lot,” Ernie says with a slap to my back. “But it’s true.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, facing ahead again. “That’s awful.”
Bert chuckles. “Tell us about it. Not a selling point with the ladies.”
“So one bed won’t matter?”
“That’s why we’re coming to look,” Ernie explains. “We’ll test it out. See how we feel.”
Shit. There’s no way these two big guys will have enough room if they’re not sleeping together. Well, sleeping together but not fucking.
An image of the two of them kissing overtakes me, and I practically shudder as I shake it loose. Why am I picturing them in an intimate way?
It’s better than picturing Sienna, right?
On second thought, no. Not at all.
Fuck, what the hell is my problem, and why am I having so much trouble getting out of my own damn head?