Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Sienna
I practically flee the hot tub, water pouring off me in heavy sheets that cool too quickly in the night air. Steam rises from my skin like smoke, but I don’t dare look back at Milo.
If I see the way he’s staring at me—dark eyes burning with barely leashed hunger—I won’t be strong enough to walk away.
My heart is still hammering from the kiss. My lips feel swollen and tingling, still tasting of him. My entire body feels electrified, every nerve raw and screaming. Between my thighs, I’m aching so badly it’s almost painful.
God, what the hell did I just do?
One minute we’re talking about this being “fun only.” No feelings. No complications. But the second I climbed onto his lap and kissed him, something inside me snapped.
I kissed him like I was starving. Like I needed him more than air. My body completely took over—hips grinding down on his hardness, fingers buried in his hair, moaning into his mouth like a woman possessed.
That wasn’t just a kiss.
That was desperation.
That was want so intense it terrified me.
Goosebumps rise all over me. I wrap my arms around myself and hurry to the bathroom, thighs slick not just from the hot tub. Every step reminds me of how perfect he felt between my thighs.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and almost don’t recognize myself. Cheeks flushed deep pink, lips kiss-bitten and swollen, eyes glassy with lust. I look wrecked.
Is it so bad that I want to turn around and go back out there and do it all over again?
But I can’t. Not yet. Not when my brain is still three steps behind my body, waving red flags and yelling “abort mission” while my thighs are still remembering exactly how it felt to have Milo hard between them.
Shaking my head, I start stripping off my bikini as I twist the shower knob all the way to cold before stepping under the spray.
The water starts warm, then turns brutally icy.
I gasp sharply as it hits my breasts, tightening my nipples into hard peaks.
It cascades down my stomach and between my legs, but the cold does nothing to kill the fire Milo lit inside me.
If anything, it makes me more sensitive.
It’s punishing, but that’s exactly the point.
Punish the heat.
Punish the want.
I brace one hand against the tiled wall, head bowed under the freezing stream. My mind won’t stop replaying every second since my lips touched his. It won’t stop replaying the raw hunger in his groan as he realized exactly what I was doing, before kissing me back.
He’s always so controlled. So composed. But tonight, I felt the man beneath begin to crack. I want to be the one who makes him lose it completely. I want to feel him snap.
The ache between my legs is unbearable now. A deep, pulsing throb that demands relief.
Fuck it.
I step out dripping, leaving wet footprints across the floor, and pull open the nightstand drawer. My fingers close around the waterproof vibrator. My hands are shaking with need as I climb back into the shower.
The moment I turn it on, the low, steady hum cuts through the sound of rushing water. I don’t tease myself for long. I can’t. I press it directly against my swollen clit, and my knees nearly buckle at the sharp burst of pleasure.
“Oh God…” I moan, eyes fluttering shut.
In my mind, it’s not a toy anymore. It’s Milo.
I imagine him shoving me up against these tiles, his big, hard body pinning me in place.
Water streaming over both of us as he drops to his knees and buries his face between my thighs.
His mouth devouring me while his tongue licks long, slow stripes up my pussy before sucking hard on my clit.
Those intense eyes will look up at me while he eats me like a man starved.
Sliding the vibrator lower, I push it inside me with a broken gasp.
Fuck.
In the fantasy, it’s Milo’s thick cock stretching me open in one deep thrust. I can almost feel the burn, the perfect fullness as he bottoms out inside me, moaning my name in that hoarse voice of his.
He wouldn’t be gentle. Not after the way I teased him in the hot tub. He’d fuck me hard and deep with punishing strokes that slam me against the tiles with every thrust. One hand tangled in my wet hair, the other gripping my ass, spreading me wider so he can drive even deeper.
I want his filthy words in my ear.
I want him to tell me how tight I am.
How wet I am for him.
How he’s going to ruin me for anyone else.
My hips rock desperately against the vibrator as the fantasy spirals.
I picture Milo flipping me around, bending me over so my breasts press against the cold tiles while he takes me from behind.
His hand slipping between my legs, rubbing my clit in tight circles while his cock pounds into me relentlessly.
“I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you,” fantasy Milo growls against my neck, biting down. “Wanted to fuck you until you can’t walk. Until the only name you remember is mine.”
The pressure coils tighter and tighter in my core, almost vicious. My thighs tremble violently. I’m moaning louder now, the sound echoing off the shower walls, no longer caring if he might hear me.
The orgasm rolls in fast, hitting me like a freight train—brutal, shattering, endless.
My walls clamp down around the vibrator as wave after wave crashes through me.
I cry out, legs shaking so hard I can barely stay upright.
Even after the peak, smaller aftershocks keep rippling through me, leaving me gasping and whimpering.
But it’s not enough.
Even as the pleasure fades, the deep, aching emptiness remains. Because it wasn’t Milo, it was just a toy and a fantasy, and my body knows the difference.
I want him. His heat. His weight. His cock buried inside me while he loses every ounce of that iron control. I want to feel him come undone because of me.
I turn off the shower with unsteady hands and step out, legs still weak. Wrapping a towel loosely around myself, I collapse onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, heart still racing.
The villa is quiet. Too quiet.
Is he still out there in the hot tub, hard and frustrated, stroking himself while thinking about me? The thought sends another bolt of heat straight to my core.
I roll onto my side, pressing my thighs together, but it does nothing to dull the need. My fingers trace the stupid glittery heart on my wrist, and I let out a shaky, bitter laugh, telling myself to get it together.
But even as I say it, I know it’s already too late.
The match has already been lit.
And the fire is only getting started.