Below the Barrel (Saltwater Springs #2)

18. Maliah | Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

EIGHTEEN

MALIAH | RIO DE JANEIRO, brAZIL

The samba show is vibrant, alive with colours and energy, and I’m trying my best to focus on it. The music is infectious, the dancers moving with grace and rhythm that almost feels like magic. A few times, I catch bits of conversations about the history of samba—how it was born out of African and Brazilian roots, how it’s not just a dance but a way of life, a symbol of resistance, culture, and celebration. It’s fascinating, and for a moment, it pulls me out of my own head.

But as incredible as the show is, my mind keeps wandering back to what Koa said earlier.

You’ll always be the one for me.

Those words are on repeat in my head, gnawing at me, making me feel things I don’t want to. I should be flattered, right? I should be relieved. But instead, I feel this overwhelming sense of fear, like I’m teetering on the edge of something that could either save me or destroy me. And the fact that he broke up with me, he ended it, makes it all the more confusing. He said he didn’t love me. So why now? Why say I’m “the one” now?

I feel like I can’t breathe.

When we leave the samba show and move onto the pub crawl, I’m desperate for some kind of distraction, anything to get my mind off Koa and the mess I’m in. I order drink after drink, each one going down easier than the last, and the tipsiness starts to creep in like a welcome relief.

That’s when I spot Charles.

He’s laughing with the others, his arm slung casually over the back of one of the bar stools, and I don’t know why, but I make my way over to him. It’s not that I’m actually interested in Charles—God, no. He’s sweet, and we’ve been friendly, but this isn’t about him. This is about me needing to feel something else , to shift the focus off of Koa.

“Hey,” I say, sliding into the seat next to him, my voice lighter than usual, more playful. “How are you enjoying Rio?”

Charles grins, his eyes lighting up. “How could I not? This place is incredible.”

I nod, leaning a little closer, just enough to blur the lines. “Yeah, it is. You know, I think I’ve underestimated how fun you are, Charles.”

He laughs, a little flustered, clearly not expecting me to be so forward. “You? Underestimating me? Never.”

I flirt back, more openly now, my hand brushing his arm as I smile at him. It’s not real. None of it is. But it’s easier to do this than to sit with the feelings Koa stirred up. I keep telling myself it’s harmless, that I’m just having fun, but deep down, I know what I’m really doing.

I’m running. Running from Koa, from his words, from the possibility of getting hurt again.

And it’s not working.

The group of girls surround me before I even realize what’s happening. They’re giggling, nudging each other as they drag me away from Charles. Their eyes are filled with curiosity, and I already know what’s coming.

“So,” one of them says with a smirk, “what’s going on with you and Koa?”

I blink, trying to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” another chimes in, leaning closer. “We all saw you two at Carnival. You were all over each other.”

The memory of last night—of Koa’s hands on me, his lips, the way my body responded to him—floods my mind. It’s almost too much, and I feel a pang of something I don’t want to acknowledge. I glance towards the bar where Koa is standing, and sure enough, he’s watching me, his dark eyes tracking my every move. The way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s still claiming me, like I belong to him.

It pisses me off.

I turn back to the girls, forcing a smile. “Koa? Nah, he’s all yours. Go ahead and take him.”

They exchange a few shocked glances before breaking into laughter. One of them claps her hands together, almost in disbelief. “Really? You’re saying he’s free?”

“Completely free.” The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth, but I push through it. “I’m not holding him back.”

The moment the words are out, I feel a sharp stab of regret. But I don’t let it show. I just watch as the girls giggle excitedly and make their way over to him. And to my surprise—no, to my horror —Koa doesn’t seem to mind. He actually interacts with them. He’s smiling, laughing, his eyes lighting up in a way that feels like a slap to my face.

What the hell?

Jealousy surges inside me, hot and fierce. I hate the way he looks so damn unbothered. He’s enjoying the attention, and I’m left standing here, feeling like an idiot for caring. For a second, I can’t even think straight, the rage boiling up inside me.

I need to do something. Anything to get back at him.

My eyes dart to Charles. I flash him a flirtatious smile, step closer, and before I know it, we’re dancing. My body moves to the rhythm of the music, my hips swaying, and I make sure Koa sees.

I’m dancing, probably horribly, with Charles for one reason only— to piss Koa off .

Every now and then, I glance over at Koa. He’s still at the bar, but now his expression has changed. He’s no longer laughing with the girls. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto me and Charles.

Good. I want him to feel the way I felt.

I can feel his anger simmering from across the room, his eyes tracking my every move. It should make me feel good, maybe even satisfied that I got the reaction I wanted out of him. But instead, something tight and uneasy coils inside me. This isn’t who I am. I don’t play these games—yet here I am, dancing with Charles, trying to make Koa feel something.

Charles leans in closer, whispering something I barely register over the pounding music and his thick accent, and before I know it, he’s tugging me toward the back of the pub. I hesitate, glancing back, but Koa is still by the bar, glaring at us like he wants to rip Charles apart. For a second, I think about pulling away, but Charles’ hand is firm on my wrist, and I stumble into a dark corner of the back room before I can even process what’s happening.

“Wait—” I start, my voice shaky as I try to pull back, but he doesn’t listen. His hands are suddenly everywhere, rough and fast, tugging at my clothes, his mouth coming down on mine without warning.

“No!” I shove at his chest, panic rising in my throat, but he’s stronger than I expected. My heart races, my breaths shallow as I try to push him off. “Stop!”

He doesn’t stop. Instead, he presses harder, his hands roaming where they have no business being, and fear grips me. My mind goes blank, trapped in the growing terror of the moment.

Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice—a roar of fury.

“Koa?” I manage to gasp just as Charles is ripped off me, his body flying back against the wall with a hard thud .

Koa is on him in an instant, his fist smashing into Charles’ face. One punch, then another, each hit fuelled by a rage I’ve never seen in him before. Charles slumps to the ground, groaning in pain, but Koa doesn’t stop. He’s going to destroy him, and all I can think is that he’s going to kill him if I don’t do something.

“Koa, stop!” I rush forward, grabbing his arm, my voice breaking. “Please, stop!”

He pauses, breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he stands over Charles. His eyes are wild with fury, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tight I think they might snap. Then he turns to me, and the intensity in his gaze makes me shrink back.

“He fucking touched you, Mal!” His voice is raw, full of venom. “Do you even get that?”

I flinch at his words, my heart racing for a different reason now. I’m at a loss for how to respond, my thoughts still tangled from what just happened. But before I can speak, Koa pushes himself off Charles, his body trembling with barely contained anger.

Without another word, he grabs my wrist as he storms past me, yanking me behind him. I stumble after him, barely able to keep up with his long angry strides as we push through the crowd, out of the pub and into the cool night air. My wrist stings where he’s gripping it, but I don’t say anything. I don’t even think I could if I wanted to.

He drags me to the car, still furious, his jaw clenched tight as he pulls open the door. I slide into the passenger seat silently, my heart pounding in my chest. The silence between us is thick, suffocating. He slams the door shut and rounds the front of the car, slamming his door behind him too and gripping the steering wheel so hard I think it might break under the pressure.

The entire drive back to the penthouse is filled with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and the roar of the engine, rage simmering between us, threatening to explode at any moment. My heart pounds, not just from the fear of what almost happened in the back of that pub, but from the energy radiating off Koa.

We pull into the parking garage thirty minutes later, and the car comes to a screeching stop. Koa is out before I can even unbuckle my seatbelt, opening my door for me and then slamming it shut as soon as I’m out. My legs feel shaky as I follow him into the building and up the elevator.

The moment we step into the penthouse, the tension boils over.

“What the hell were you thinking, Maliah?” he snaps, pacing in front of me like a caged animal. “Dancing with Charles? Letting him take you off like that?”

My chest tightens. “I wasn’t—I didn’t let him?—”

“Does it even matter?” he cuts me off, his eyes blazing. “You could have been hurt. He could’ve?—”

“I know!” I yell, my voice breaking. “I know, okay? I was just—I was trying to—” I don’t even know what I was trying to do anymore. Distract myself? Punish Koa for what he said earlier? Make sense of the chaos between us?

But it all sounds so stupid now, standing here in front of him, seeing the hurt and fury in his eyes.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Koa’s voice drops, lower, more dangerous. He steps closer to me, his presence overwhelming. “No one can mess with you. With us. I can’t…I can’t lose you, Maliah.”

My heart skips a beat at his words, but I try to push it down. “We’re moving too fast, Koa,” I say, my voice trembling. “We need to slow it down. We should?—”

“What?” he scoffs, closing the distance between us in one stride. “Go back to being friends?”

His words sting, and I try to hold my ground. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore. It’s all so confusing.”

“I don’t care about labels, Mal,” he says, his voice rough. “We don’t have to call it anything. We don’t need a title. We can just be us. Koa and Maliah. That’s it.”

His voice is raw, and it hits something deep inside me. I’m still angry, still scared, but hearing him say that…it does something to me. I stare at him, my chest heaving, and the next thing I know, he’s closing the gap between us, pulling me towards him in one swift motion. His lips crash against mine, rough and demanding, and all the pent-up anger, frustration, and fear explodes between us.

I kiss him back, hard, my hands fisting in his shirt as I push him towards my bedroom. His hands are everywhere—tugging at my clothes, pulling me closer, like he can’t get enough of me. And maybe I can’t get enough of him either.

We stumble inside, and the second my back hits the mattress, he’s on me, his weight pressing me down, his mouth hot against my neck, my collarbone, anywhere he can reach. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them apart, and I arch against him, needing him in a way that scares me.

“I need you, Mal,” he breathes against my skin, his voice thick with desperation. “I don’t care what we call it. I just need you.”

“Then take me,” I whisper, my voice shaking with want.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. His lips claim mine again, and before I know it, he’s fingering me. His touch is demanding, almost possessive, as he thrusts his fingers into me with an intensity that leaves me gasping, moaning his name like it’s the only thing that matters. He keeps going until I’m shaking, blubbering nonsense, and the sheets are soaked.

He gently removes his fingers, and I watch in fascination as he slides them into his mouth, a low growl escaping him.

“You always taste so good,” he says as he unbuttons his pants, pushing them lower to allow his cock to spring free.

I stare at it in bewilderment, always shocked at the sheer size of it. He gently strokes it as I watch, a bead of pre-cum forming on the head. He uses his thumb to spread it around before he positions himself at my entrance and thrusts into me. I gasp at the feeling of him, my pussy fighting to allow him fully inside.

This isn’t ‘making love’ sex, this is wild and messy and raw, and I can feel how much he needs this—how much we need this. It doesn’t take long for me to come again, the sound of his name on my lips. Everything else in the world fades away as his thrusts become more frantic and his breath heavy and ragged in my ear.

Every thrust is hard, purposeful, as if he’s trying to pour everything he feels into me—his anger, his need, his desperation. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten and coil, like he’s holding onto control by the thinnest thread.

His hands grip my hips, pulling me even closer to him, and I can barely keep up with the intensity of it. I hear his breath hitch, his pace faltering for just a moment, and I know he’s close. The weight of him on top of me, the sound of his rough groans filling the air, it’s all too much.

He leans down, burying his face in my neck as his movements become more erratic, his body trembling with the effort of holding on. “Mal…” he groans, his voice tight, like he’s trying to hold back but can’t. “Fuck…”

And then with one final thrust, I feel him break. His entire body shudders as he comes, releasing into me with a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through my skin. His grip on me tightens, almost painfully, as if he’s afraid to let go, as if he needs this moment to last.

For a second, time stands still. The world narrows to just the two of us, tangled together, our breathing heavy and uneven.

As his breathing slows, he stays pressing against me, neither of us moving, the weight of what just happened hanging between us. His forehead rests against mine, our bodies still intertwined, but the fire from moments ago has cooled, leaving only the quiet aftermath.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my heart, unsure of what this means—what any of it means. There are no words left, just the sound of our breathing, and the steady rhythm of his heart against my chest.

For now, we’re just Koa and Maliah. Nothing more, nothing less.

But for how long?