I leaped off the sofa and headed for the bathroom, needing to restore some normality to this otherwise crazy night. I loved hot showers, the longer the better. I did some of my best thinking under the spray. And that's what I needed to do now, come up with a flippant yet genuine way to extricate myself from Kye's villa before I did something stupid: like move in.
"Lame," I muttered, stripping my dress off and fiddling with the taps until the water temp was just right.
I stepped inside the large cubicle, specially built for the tennis jocks that stayed in these villas, closed my eyes and tipped my head back under the water stream. Bliss.
Humming some soppy ballad from a rom-com I'd seen last semester, I turned my face to the spray, the sharp peppering of the water giving me the wake up call I needed.
You've just had a one night stand.
You should leave, not hang around showering and eating a meal he's whipping up out of obligation.
I groaned and resisted bashing my head against the tiles, just. And that's when the shower door creaked open and I felt a pair of hands clasp my waist, before sliding upward to rest under my breasts.
"Need some help getting clean?" Kye whispered in my ear, pulling my back flush against his front.
Wow.
Banishing my sensible, good girl thoughts of leaving ASAP, I turned in the circle of his arms. "Don't you mean dirty?"
The wicked quirk to his lips made my heart pound in anticipation as he lowered his head and kissed me. Slow. Sensual. Deep. The type of kiss that could make a girl forget everything but being naked and wet with a guy like Kye.
I was on sensation overload, with his hands massaging my ass, the water pounding my back and his mouth wreaking havoc. When we came up for air, I could barely stand.
"I thought you were cooking?"
"I couldn't stay away." He stared into my eyes and rested his forehead on mine. "I don't do this usually."
"Shower?" I wrinkled my nose. "Euw. Now you tell me."
He didn't smile, his solemnity at odds with the passion darkening his eyes to indigo. "I'm not a man whore but I've had my fair share of sex. Sex that ends the minute we finish fucking."
A sliver of something akin to jealousy lanced my gut. "Is that my cue to leave?"
"No." The monosyllable exploded out of him.
"That's just it." He closed his eyes, dragged in a breath and ducked his head under the water spray before refocusing on me.
"I want you to stay." He cupped my face in his hands. "I want to fuck you in this shower and in the kitchenette and in the bed." He searched my face, as if looking for answers. "Does that sound insane?"
In response, I hooked a leg around his waist and rotated my hips against him, real slow. "Let the madness begin."
And we did go a little nuts. My first fully-fledged sexathon. We did it in the shower. On the lounge room floor. On his bed. On the tiny island bench in the kitchen. Insatiable. Hedonistic. Beyond memorable.
I didn't sleep. I couldn't, not with my body humming from overuse and my mind buzzing with so many questions, the main one being would Kye be open to continuing this fling for the duration?
I was under no illusions that this was nothing more than sex, but somewhere between shoving popcorn into each other's mouths after our bench-top performance and cuddling beneath the sheets, I envisaged this being the grand vacation romance I'd never had.
At dawn, I gave up trying to sleep. Instead, I watched Kye: the way his eyelashes created fan shadows on his cheeks, the way he puffed out air every second breath, the way he looked young and carefree, at odds with the carefully controlled tension he'd exhibited last night.
I liked this guy.
But was the feeling mutual?
Too wired to watch him and ponder any longer, I slipped out of bed, got dressed and headed for the door. Besides, I needed to make it back to my villa before the early risers started heading for the courts.
Not that I was ashamed of hooking up with Kye but I knew how the rumor mill worked in this place. I'd lived here long enough to see girls' reputations shredded, no matter if they were groupies or not.
The last thing I needed was for my dad to give me grief. Or worse, give Kye grief.
For now, I'd keep this under wraps.
And figure out what the hell I was going to do about my crazy crush on a sexy Aussie I hardly knew.
Chapter 8
KYE
I followed my usual warm up routine. Calf stretches. Hamstrings. Quads. Hip flexors, before moving onto my back, my pecs, triceps and biceps.
Usually I was one hundred percent focused on my body during a warm up, deriving comfort from the familiar sting of muscle that eased away as it elongated.
Not today. Today, all I could think about was Mia.
The sounds she made when she came. The way she'd tasted. The way she'd looked with her mouth wrapped around my cock.