Below the Barrel (Saltwater Springs #2)

6. Koa | Victoria, Australia

SIX

KOA | VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA

The familiar and comforting scent of vanilla drags me out of my sleep. I slowly open my eyes, staring at my ceiling as I blink away the sleepiness. Turning my head towards the clock across the hotel room, I notice it’s eight in the morning. Surely that’s a mistake, I haven’t been able to sleep past four in the morning in nearly a year.

Something moves on my chest and that’s when I notice the weight there. I glance down and my heart begins to sprint in my chest. Blonde hair cascades across my body, the scent of vanilla finding me again. I hear her soft, rhythmic breathing and feel each exhale softly brush against my skin.

The urge to wrap my arms around Maliah and hold her close, never letting her go again, is almost overwhelming. But my words from last night stop me as I remember my promise to not touch her, so instead I lay there and watch her quietly, savouring this moment for as long as she’ll allow it. Her long lashes rest softly against her cheeks and minutes later they begin to flutter open as she slowly begins to wake up.

The peaceful expression she had just moments ago gives way to confusion before her eyes widen with the realization that she’s on top of me. She scrambles off, falling out of the bed with a loud thump.

“Ow,” I hear Maliah groan quietly.

I press my lips together to stifle the chuckle as she slowly rises from the floor, her blonde hair now a wild mess around her face. Her cheeks are flushed as her eyes meet mine, and in an instant, she’s glaring at me, as usual. I roll my eyes as I sit up, resting my back against the headboard and bunching the sheets at my waist to try and hide my morning problem.

“Is there a reason you were touching me?” she hisses.

“You know,” I start, trying to hide my amusement from my voice, “you’re the one who was cuddling me, not the other way around.”

I watch, fascinated, as her cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. It’s enough proof that she still has feelings for me, despite how she treats me in public. I can see her trying to muster up a retort, but I spare her the embarrassment as I lean over and pick up my hotel phone, dialling reception.

“Good morning, mister Foster, how can I help you today?” a raspy voice says from the other end.

“Good morning,” I reply. “My teammate in room two twenty-two forgot her keycard at an event last night. Is there any way you can bring a spare to my bedroom along with your breakfast special for two?”

“Absolutely, sir. I’ll send someone up shortly.”

“Thank you.”

I hang up the phone and turn to look back at Maliah. Her face still flushed as she avoids eye contact. Well, this is new, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this expression on her before.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

I arch a brow. “Sorry for what?”

“Cuddling up to you. I didn’t knowingly do it or anything.”

I let out a breathy chuckle. “I wasn’t complaining about it, Maliah.”

Her blush deepens and she shoots me a quick, embarrassed look. “Stop saying it like that.”

I tilt my head curiously. “Saying what, like what?”

“My name,” she huffs. “The way you say it.”

Her reaction is intriguing, it’s a side of Mal I don’t think I’ve seen in a very long time. I scoot closer to her, leaning forwards as she watches me with nervous eyes.

“Maliah,” I repeat, drawing out her name teasingly.

My eyes dart to her thighs, noticing how she squeezes them together before she lets out a shaky exhale.

Interesting .

“Mal—”

“Koa, I swear to God,” she says exasperated. “Stop saying my name like that.”

I raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Like how?”

“Like you…like you want to…I don’t know! Like that !”

I don’t miss the look of embarrassment and longing in her eyes, and I can’t hold back my smile with how flustered she’s becoming.

This could be fun.

I lean even closer to her, my eyes catching on her perfect lips, before I force myself to look into her eyes.

“Maliah,” I say again.

“Shut up,” she snaps, her voice a mixture of annoyance and something softer.

Something vulnerable.

“Make me,” I challenge, my gaze locked onto her.

I’m so close to her that I feel the warmth of her shaky breathing tickle my nose. The tension is palpable, almost like a crackling energy electrifying the air around us. Her eyes trail down to my lips, and I watch in anticipation as she fights to hide the lust from her expression.

She wants me to kiss her.

And I almost do, but a knock at the door shatters the connection and she leaps backward in an instant, her back thudding against the wall behind her as her panicked eyes fly up to mine. I hold her gaze, struggling to mask my disappointment while also trying to absorb the realization that this moment has irrevocably changed everything between us.

Her frantic reaction confirms that as much as she likes to pretend that she hates me, she still feels something for me beneath the surface. Whether it’s genuine affection or just physical attraction, I’m not sure, but I know that regardless, it gives me a chance to fix things between us.

This is the turning point I’ve been patiently waiting for.

With a deep, resigned sigh, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and head toward the door. I spot a hotel staff member pushing a breakfast cart, holding Maliah’s extra key card in his hand.

Maliah darts past me, snatching the key card from him in a hurry, and running out into the hall.

“I’ll take my breakfast in my room,” she says swiftly, barely concealing her urgency to get away from me.

Without waiting for a response or offering another glance my way, she bolts into her room. I notice she’s still wearing my oversized T-shirt and I glance back into my room, spotting the outfit she had worn the night before folded neatly on a chair.

Turning back to the staff member, I offer him a polite smile before taking my food tray and closing the door behind me. The soft click of the latch echoes in my now quiet room, but I still feel the tension from earlier coiled within me. I place the tray on the edge of my bed and lift the cover, revealing a protein packed plate of eggs, sausages, and bacon. The aroma of the food does nothing to mask the scent of Maliah in my room, reminding me she was here only moments ago.

I lower myself onto the bed and try to focus on eating, knowing I’ll need every ounce of energy to get through today’s surf competition, my stomach growling in anticipation. But my mind isn’t on the food, it’s on Maliah and the memory of our earlier moment—an intense, electric connection that is still buzzing beneath my skin. I can still feel the warmth of her body and it sends a shiver down my spine.

With a frustrated sigh, I set the tray aside, abandoning the idea of breakfast altogether. Pushing myself off the bed, I head toward the bathroom in hopes that a cold shower will be enough to cool down both my body and my thoughts.

I strip down to nothing and step into the frigid water, letting it cascade over me, but it does little to quench the heat raging beneath my skin. The memory of her is relentless, torturous, and as my pulse quickens, I know that there’s only one way to find relief in this moment.

I let the cool water mix with the heat she’s left behind, as I wrap my rough hand around my hard cock. My hand, slick with water, moves with a mind of its own as I begin pumping slowly. Closing my eyes, my mind replays the curve of her perfect lips, the feel of her soft skin against mine, and the way her breath hitched when our eyes locked.

I imagine her here with me again, her hands replacing mine, and her body pressed against me in a way that sends a bolt of desire straight through me. With a grunt I lean forward, my wet hair waterfalling around me as I use my free hand to hold myself up against the wall.

I pump my cock faster as the tension builds, coiling tighter with each passing second, each flicker of memory. The little breaths and moans she used to let out when we’d fuck swirling through my mind on an endless loop. I can’t stop myself from picturing how her wet body would fit against mine again, or the way her hands would glide over my slick skin, or how her angelic voice would sound while whispering my name.

The pressure inside me reaches its breaking point as my breathy moans turn into a deep growl. My muscles tense, and with one final pump, I come all over the shower wall, the tension finally releasing.

For a moment, the world is silent, the only sound is the steady patter of the water against the tiles, my breathless breathing, and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Even now, with the heat sated, the thought of Maliah still lingers—almost stronger than before. It’s not something that can be washed away.

After rinsing the shower wall, I turn off the water on a sigh, grabbing a towel and drying myself off, deciding to return to my breakfast and preparations for today’s competition. I know another moment like today is bound to happen again with Maliah, and when it does, I won’t be able to ignore my urges.

Maliah was off in today’s competition. I noticed it from the moment she started to paddle out into the lineup at Bells Beach, her movements not as fluid as normal and her focus completely shifted. The waves were formidable today, rolling in with a power that can either make or break a surfer’s run. Bells Beach is known worldwide as a legendary spot, but it’s also unforgiving. The way that the tides shift, and the swell refracts off the reef can turn any solid wave into a nightmare if the surfer isn’t fully focused.

This would normally be a piece of cake for Maliah, she thrives in conditions like this—carving through the waves with exact precision and confidence. But not today. Today her takeoffs were hesitant, and she struggled with positioning, getting caught too deep or too far out on the shoulder every single time. On a critical wave, she had scared me half to death when she pulled back from a drop at the last second, causing the lip of the wave to crash down on her and send her tumbling underwater in a brutal wipeout.

My heart was in my throat as I watched from the beach, waiting for her to resurface, and when she did, her eyes were filled with frustration as she glanced toward my direction. The rest of the heat hadn’t gone much better, and by the time it had ended, it was clear that she hadn’t done enough to keep us in the lead. We’d gone from first to sixth in a matter of minutes.

I can tell it’s eating her up inside as she sits beside me quietly on the beach, her face a mask of disappointment. I can feel the weight of her self-reproach hanging in the air between us.

“What happened out there?” I ask, trying to figure out how to explain this to Gabriel.

“Koa, stay out of my business,” she snaps, her eyes not meeting mine.

My phone vibrates in my hand. “He’s calling,” I say as I hold up my phone to show an incoming video call from Gabriel.

She stares at it for a moment before nodding. “Answer it.”

So, I do, and I regret it instantly as Gabriel’s furious face comes into view.

“Are you guys fucking kidding me?” he yells, running a frustrated hand through his disheveled hair. “From first to sixth? That must be a record place drop.”

Maliah tenses beside me, her fidgeting fingers now still as she grips onto her knees so tightly that her knuckles turn white.

“The waves were really tough today, Gabriel,” I say, trying to calm him down.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he shouts again. “I watched Maliah miss key sections in waves which could have been a huge opportunity to rack up points with a solid maneuver. She even lost her balance during a crucial cutback; she threw the whole thing.”

I hear her breathing grow shallow and quick beside me, and when I glance over, I notice her blinking rapidly, her lashes wet with unshed tears, her body completely curled into itself.

“I don’t know why you tried so hard to make it into this championship tour if you’re just going to throw it away like it doesn’t matter,” he spits.

“It does matter,” she shouts back, her voice cracking on the last word.

She bites down on her lower lip, the pressure turning it pale as she struggles to keep her composure. But the first tear finally escapes and slides down her cheek, Maliah quickly wiping it away with the back of her hand, but more tears follow.

“It does matter,” she repeats quieter, her voice trembling with emotion.

The sight of her crying brings me back to the day I broke her heart, and it slices right through me to see her like this again. I turn back to Gabriel who silently watches, a shocked expression on his face. He’s never seen her cry before, no one has, except for me.

“We’ll talk later,” I say abruptly before ending the call.

“Why did you do that?” she shouts, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Because he shouldn’t be talking to you like that,” I say calmly.

“Yes, he should. He’s my coach and he was right, I screwed up. I deserved to get shit for it,” she continues yelling. “You shouldn’t have involved yourself in that. You just made it worse for me. Stop involving yourself in my business, I’m tired of it.”

Her shouts are so loud they echo in my head as she stares at me with so much rage that I flinch.

“No one deserves to be yelled at like that, Maliah. If it bothers you that I stopped him from continuing, then I’m sorry, but I won’t ever let anyone speak to you like that when I’m around. I don’t care who they are.”

She stares at me with a shocked and confused expression as tears continue streaming down her face, but before I can say anything, she stands up and storms toward our car. I watch as a nearby cameraman runs behind her, filming her breakdown as she climbs into the backseat of the car. I had forgotten about the camera crew and as I look around, I notice them surrounding us at a distance, cameras pointed at me and the car that Maliah sits in. Her whole breakdown is going to be broadcast to the world on SurfFlix, and I know that will hurt her worse than anything Gabriel could ever say.

I need to fix this.