I took a shower right before Amanda arrived at the hotel, not that she needs to know this. No reason to stop her from running that bar of soap all over my body since I’m already clean, right?

Her nails graze my skin as she lathers me up, causing goose bumps to rise, and I swear to God she’s going to make me combust. Though I can also tell she’s tired. The long flight and major time change are finally getting to her. Her movements are slower than usual, and her eyes are droopy. I even caught her hiding a yawn only a minute ago. I feel a little guilty, bossing her around, forcing myself into her shower.

But not guilty enough to back out and let her shower on her own. The thing is, I can’t resist her. The moment I opened the door and saw her standing there, a wan smile on her face, her fingers clutching the suitcase handle extra tight, like she might be nervous to see me, all I could think about was getting her naked. Getting her beneath me, on top of me, whatever. I just knew I had to have her before I went to practice.

Maybe having her with me will help me play better. Practice yesterday was a bitch—we were all sloppy, and I heard that whistle blow so many times I wanted to punch something. Everyone blamed the time change for our mistakes. I slept like a baby on the plane, so I knew that couldn’t be it.

Yeah. I think I was just missing Amanda. I needed her with me.

I push all thoughts of yesterday’s practice out of my brain and focus on the here and now. Amanda standing in front of me with water streaming down her naked body, making her glisten. Her hands bubbly with soap as she runs them along my stomach. Then lower. Lower still. Shifting away so she can wash along the sides of my hips.

The tease.

Finally, those soapy hands touch my dick, and I clench my teeth. She sets the bar of soap on the nearby ledge, and then her fingers grab hold, sliding up and down. Nice and slow. She glances up at me, her once-sleepy eyes now sparkling with heat, her lips quirked in a devilish smile. She knows what she’s doing.

I say nothing. Neither does she. The only sound is the water hitting the tile. Keeping her grip on me, she carefully falls to her knees, her other hand curving around the back of my thigh, tugging on me.

“Get under the water, Jordan.”

I do as she tells me, the soap washing off my dick the moment the water hits it. Amanda licks her lips, her gaze intent as she leans in and takes my cock between her lips.

Jesus. My knees nearly buckle and I brace my hand against the tile wall, watching my dick slide between her lush lips. Suction tight, her mouth is hot, her tongue wet as she pulls me all the way out and licks the tip.

I could come like this. Easily.

But I don’t want to.

She wraps her lips around the head of my cock and sucks extra hard, making me waver. Making me reconsider coming like this after all. She’s good. Knows just what to do to send me over the edge. Back in the day, we experimented together all the time. She wasn’t afraid to ask me what I liked, what felt good, what could she do to make it better. I always liked that about her—in bed and out of it. Her inquisitiveness. Her constant need to do something good, better, best.

Like giving head. She’s fucking fantastic at it.

The coy look she sends my way tells me she knows she’s damn good at it too, and that’s the deal breaker. She’s doing this on purpose. Giving me an orgasm so…what? She can fall into bed and I’ll leave for practice a satisfied man?

We both can end up satisfied in this scenario.

I grab her by the shoulders and reluctantly push her away, her mouth falling off my cock. A tragedy. But I can remedy this.

She’s frowning, her swollen lips forming into a pout, the water running over her, and she blinks rapidly. “Why’d you make me stop?”

“Not like this, babe,” I tell her, hauling her into my arms. She weighs nothing. I turn and readjust her, pressing her back against the cool white tile. Her legs automatically go around my waist, her pussy poised just above my dick, and I slide into her with ease.

“Oh God,” she whispers, the back of her head knocking against the tile. She winces. “Ow.”

“Careful,” I murmur, slipping my hand behind her head, rubbing it gently. Otherwise, I don’t move. I’m fully embedded in her tight, hot body, my dick twitching, eager to get moving and make the magic happen.

Because that’s what it is between Amanda and me. Magic. Sparks fly every time we fucking touch. Almost like we were…

Made for each other.

I pin her in place with my body and start to move. Push inside deep, savoring that slow drag as I pull almost all the way out. Her legs wrap tighter around me, like she might be afraid I’ll disappear, but I’m not going anywhere.

I’m going to see this through.

“Jordan.” My name falls from her lips, encouraging me to go faster. She sounds lost. Overcome. I watch her, unable to look away as I continue to fuck her. Her eyes are closed, a little whimper falling from her lips every time I thrust. I remove my hand from the back of her head and touch her cheek. Her mouth. Her lips part, sucking my fingers in between them, and her eyes pop open.

Emotions swamp me at the glow in her eyes, and I’m tempted to say something. Those words. Three of them. So simple, yet they would change everything.

And I’m not sure if I can say them yet.

I’ve never been one to say them. In my house, love wasn’t something given easily. My dad was never around. If he wasn’t working himself to death, he was out with one of his many mistresses. Mom was too worried over where her husband was, what others thought of her. Too wrapped up in her own problems, she didn’t have time for me.

No one ever really did.

With Amanda, I finally understood what real love was. Until she left me too.

Her abandonment reminded me that love was a joke. Something I could never count on.

So yeah. I’m not going to tell her I love her.

She’ll have to say those words first.