Her Perfect 10

by Brianna Cash

When I think I have it figured out, I bring my hand back into play, slipping one finger into her wet heat and chuckling as a sound escapes her that’s somewhere between a moan and a pleading cry. When I start moving that finger…

  “Ohhh, good God, don’t stop!”

  Crooking my finger as I pump it inside her, I slowly twist my wrist, finding that perfect spot that makes her moan lower and longer. Then I add a second finger.

  “There! Fuck!”

  Her pelvis thrusts against my face and her hand in my hair jerks my tongue into place as she takes my fingers at whatever pace she wants. My arm gets shoved out of the way and my head is suddenly locked in place as her legs clamp around it. She roughly rocks herself on my face, chasing her release, making all kinds of noises that won’t be mistaken for anything other than hot sex if anyone is close enough to hear.

  She screams when it hits, her frantic pumps slowing as her entire body relaxes and her back settles against the hammock. Her legs fall open and I roll my head from side to side. The resounding crack of my neck fades into the sound of the waves.

  When I sit up, she grabs my shoulders and tugs, pulling me on top of her. Her hands are back in my hair and her tongue invades my mouth in a show of gratitude I’m not about to turn down.

  “That was a ten, Owen! A perfect fucking ten!”

  I pull back, staring down into her eyes. “What?”

  She grins, bigger than any I’ve seen before. “That was…really good. Like, amazing, good.”

  No!

  I didn’t want proof!

  I wanted to be left in the dark!

  I don’t want to know anything about SD other than the things she slowly reveals to me throughout our assignments and forbidden communications. I don’t want to have to keep this a secret, and I don’t want to ask Sadie if she’s taking a writing course. I don’t want any of this. We’re supposed to be anonymous until we take the next step and deliberately meet each other! We’re supposed to have a chance to fall in love! We’re supposed to be compatible!

  Wait. Why, exactly, do I think Sadie and I aren’t compatible?

  I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. Not even Sadie’s full name. Maybe her last name doesn’t start with a D.

  “What’s your last name, Sadie?”

  “Why does it matter now?” She props herself on her elbows, a crooked smile on her lips.

  “Just wondering.”

  “Dietrich. Sadie Dietrich. Nice to meet you.” She laughs, sliding her hand under my shirt.

  Sadie from work is my SD. I’m positive. Ninety-nine percent certain.

  There’s still that one percent…

  Standing up, feeling a bit dazed, I help her upright before bending over to pick up her clothes. I need some time to think this through. If I go back through her emails and texts, I’ll find something that will prove she’s not the girl from my writing course.

  Although, her giving me a score is irrefutable proof that she is.

  “Hey, you ok?”

  At the sound of her voice, I look over to find her pulling her panties up her legs, watching me with concern streaked across her pretty face.

  I’m so not ok right now.

  Forcing a smile, I lie to her. “Just trying to adjust to our new friendship.”

  “It’s a lot easier after you come as hard as I just did. Let’s go back to the room; I’ll show you what I mean.”

  Maybe we are compatible. I have no idea who Sadie really is. All I know for sure is she’s fun, beautiful, and someone I wouldn’t be able to walk away from at this point, no matter how she’s intertwined in my life.

  I offer her my hand and let her lead me back to our room.

  Screw that ninety-nine percent. I’ll live in denial, drowning in that one percent, until all of this makes sense.

  Or, at least, for the rest of this weekend.

  Sadie

  My orgasm was so intense it blew Owen’s mind.

  That’s a good fucking orgasm.

  But he’s weird now, and I don’t want to push him into anything he doesn’t want to do. Maybe he’s having second thoughts, maybe he came in his pants, maybe he’s not a grow-er or a show-er, and he doesn’t want to disappoint me after shattering all my expectations by giving me the best head of my life.

  Although, I can’t really believe that last one after feeling his cock between my legs tonight. Even if it was restrained by his shorts, there’s no way he should be embarrassed about what he’s still hiding from me.

  Whatever might be going on in his mind, I don’t pressure him for anything when we get back to the room. I kiss him soundly, then go through my nighttime routine, giving him time, and the little space I can, to either get his shit together, or let me down easy.

  He takes off his shirt before standing at the adjoining sink, following my lead and brushing his teeth. And washing my scent off his face.

  He’s going to let me down easy...

  After I’ve gone through the motions of getting ready for bed, I strip down to my underwear and pull his t-shirt over my head. If I’m not going to have sex with him, I want to at least be able to smell him all night long. Maybe it’ll get infused into my subconsciousness, and I’ll fuck him in my dreams.

  Owen arches a brow at my pajama choice, but says nothing.

  “Are you sleeping with me?” I ask, letting him off the hook, since he either can’t make up his mind, or won’t tell me he’s not ready to have sex with me.

  “Ah…” His gaze darts between the two beds.

  “If you don’t want to, it’s fine, but let me know if you do. I won’t automatically start in the middle.”

  “If I sleep with you, am I going to wake up with bruises from you kicking me?”

  “No, I don’t hate you anymore. And I sort of lied. I roll all over if I’m alone. But if someone’s in bed with me, I’m a spooner.”

  That seems to help him make his decision. He tosses his shorts on top of his suitcase, showing me how he looks in a very lucky pair of green boxer briefs. Then he pulls the blankets back on the bed I just crawled into and joins me.

  I lie on my side, feeling lonely for a few seconds, then slide closer to him, showing him what I want instead of voicing it. The mattress dips as he erases the distance between us, pulling my back against his chest.

  He’s quiet for a long time, his arm around my middle, his legs pressed against mine. His breathing is even, but not nearly as slow as it should be if he’s sleeping. What’s he thinking about? Was he expecting me to make a move? He’s let me lead so far. Maybe he wanted me to start when we got back to the room?

  Rolling into him, I slide my hand up his leg. It’s slow, but my intent is obvious. He closes his hand around mine, returning it to the mattress in front of me as he whispers in my ear. “Get some sleep.”

  I don’t know what’s holding him back, but I give him a piece of myself, hoping my vulnerability will help him get over his. “I think, when I sleep by myself, I’m unconsciously looking for the big spoon.”

  “And you spend all night rolling around trying to find it?”

  “Something like that...”

  His lips brush across my ear.

  “I’ll be right here, Sadie.”

  Owen

  After listening to her soft, even breathing for almost an hour, I get up and grab my phone, looking for the proof I need. She’s a sound sleeper. She didn’t stir when I got out of bed, or as I slide back in less than a minute later. I start with her emails, going back and reading through every assignment, every corresponding message, and all her many texts.

  But it fits.

  It all fits.

  The rambling thing? The lying thing? The friend named Roxy?

  It’s all Sadie to a T.

  The name Olivia pops up, and that’s Alena’s sister’s name. The timeline of that can’t be a coincidence; the story where there’s a mysterious singer named Olivia, is right after the bridal shower. The one where Olivia, Alena’s sister, maid-of-honor, an
d the person who’s going to sing some love ballad during the ceremony, gave us those masks to wear.

  The rebel child and all the broken rules fits, especially after that story she told me tonight about the first time she saw the ocean.

  Sadie also doesn’t wear her nametag at work. Ever.

  The way SD demanded I knock it off with the teasing about her sleeping with any willing guy was a week after I told Sadie to her face that she was talented at getting around.

  The reunion story doesn’t help me at all, but it makes sense that if Sadie was writing it, it wouldn’t be a happy reunion.

  Is there a little black journal in that carry-on that’s literally spewing out clothes and toiletries? When she has a minute to herself, is my name going to be recorded in a book she supposedly carries around? With a perfect score next to it?

  With her warm body snuggled against my side, there’s no way I’m getting up again to find out.

  Let’s not forget the story about the girl who didn’t believe in magic. Nothing in that assignment proves SD is Sadie, but come on. We were both writing about SD and her beliefs about love. She wants to believe in love, and she thinks I can change her mind and make that happen.

  I also think I can make SD believe in love…

  But is that still something I want to help her with, now that I know who she really is?

  And why am I treading water so desperately, when all I wanted was to drown in that one percent?

  Chapter 16

  Sadie

  Owen is a very sound sleeper. And he’s kinda heavy. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s morning, and I’m awake, and I can’t get out of bed because I’m so tangled up in him. If I can’t get out of bed, I won’t get any of the café’s croissants when they’re hot and fresh, right out of the oven. If I’ve learned anything useful from the mornings I’ve spent here, it’s that those croissants are totally worth waking up early for.

  After rolling away from him as much as I can, I might have enough room to slide out from under him if I get creative. Finagling my legs this way and that, I wind up diagonal across the bed, now only trapped under his arm. I shove my shoulder against him, creating enough space that I should be able to wiggle free.

  He grabs me at the last second, pulling me back into prison.

  Good thing this prison is located in paradise or I’d get really bitchy right about now.

  “Sadie… Where’re you going?” His groggy voice comes from somewhere over my shoulder, and his hand glides from my side to the lower part of my belly. Fingertips that aren’t mine rub along the elastic of my underwear, making liquid pool between my legs.

  My stomach chooses that moment to growl, echoing in the silence of the room, reminding me of my morning mission. It won’t take long to slip down to the café to get some sustenance. And caffeine. If I’m making the trip, caffeine is a definite must. There will be plenty of time for whatever kind of physical activities Owen is up for when I get back to the room.

  “Croissants. In the café.”

  “What?”

  His voice is all raspy and gruff, just like his jaw, which is gently scraping along the exposed skin of my neck.

  Neither helps the situation between my legs.

  “The croissants are to die for, but only if you get them first thing in the morning.”

  “You’d choose food over sex?”

  I twist my neck, searching for his eyes, but they’re hidden behind closed lids. “You don’t deliver on your promises of sex. Besides, I’ll be back before you’re even really awake. Food might help with your endurance levels, since getting me off last night seemed to drain you.”

  He grumbles something incoherent but releases me, rolling over and pulling the blanket back over his shoulder. I promise to bring him one, but it sounds like he’s already out. I’ll bet he had a hard time falling asleep. I hear blue balls can do that to you, and he had a pretty severe case.

  After a hasty tooth-brushing job, I work my bra on under Owen’s shirt, slide on a pair of shorts, grab my room key, and pad barefoot to the elevator. The first morning, I made sure to shower and dress appropriately before I left the room to get coffee, but while the resort might be hoity toity, the café is very informal. Most people were still in pajamas, trying to get their jump start for the day from the refreshingly strong brews that are served around-the-clock. They also serve fun specialty drinks, and I give the girl who speaks very little English my order, loading up a plate with still-steaming croissants while my drink is being made.

  Should I get Owen a coffee? I have no idea what he likes…

  It would be the nice thing to do.

  I fill a large cup with their house blend and toss a few creamers and sugars on my pile of plated pastries while stuffing half of a to-die-for croissant in my mouth. How do I get all this back up to the room? The barista smiles at my confusion, handing me my caffeinated drink in a cardboard contraption designed specifically for carrying more drinks than there are available hands. Thanking her profusely, I back out the door, running directly into Rob and Alena.

  “Whoa! Sadie?”

  “Morning.” I offer them a quick smile, immediately turning around and heading toward the elevator. Hopefully they won’t notice how many drinks I have or whose shirt I’m wearing.

  “Hey! Wait up,” Alena calls out, her following footsteps slapping loudly on the concrete tiles in the quiet morning air. This is not going as planned. No one in my group was up as early as I was so far on this vacation. Probably because they’re not used to getting up as early as I do any day of the week, and we were out partying at the dance clubs until late into each night. But the guys show up, tipping my world on its axis, and now I’m suddenly not the only person awake before ten?

  I turn partway back toward her. “What’s up?”

  Maybe she’ll read my body language and figure out I’m kind of in a hurry. Basically, just to get out of her presence, but I’m still in no mood to stand here and chitchat.

  Alena shields her eyes against the sun, and Rob saunters up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, barely even glancing in my direction. Good. Don’t look at me and what I’m wearing. Keep watching her. Nothing to see here.

  “There’s a vodka tasting at two. Wanna come?”

  “Sure,” I reply, still just wanting to get out of here and back to the relative safety of my room.

  “Great!” She beams, truly happy that we get to taste a bunch of different vodkas in the middle of the afternoon. Vodka isn’t my thing. I hate vodka and avoid any drinks made with it, but Alena can never remember that because she loves vodka. “We’ll head over after lunch. It’s going to be so much fun!”

  “Right.”

  Please, God, let her be done.

  “Nice shirt,” Rob snickers, finally looking at me and grinning like a fool. “Where is my little brother this morning?”

  “He was sleeping when I left the room.”

  “I thought he was rooming with Carl…” He laughs, shaking his head, wearing a smirk that’s easily more arrogant than any expression I’ve seen on Owen. “Up late, huh?”

  “Not really.” I shrug. “I wasn’t, anyway.”

  “He drinks his coffee black.” Rob nods toward my plate, the one with the now most-likely cool croissants and haphazard arrangements of creamer and sugar.

  “Great.”

  “And his croissants are probably better than those.”

  “Huh?”

  “If you like croissants, tell Owen to make some for you. His are amazing.”

  “Owen?” I repeat, not sure I should believe him. “Owen cooks?”

  “Yeah. Cooks, bakes… He can do anything in the kitchen.”

  “Ok.” I nod, having no idea what to make of this bizarre conversation. “Can I go now?”

  Rob laughs again, and Alena watches me with her brows pulled together. I’m totally busted, but I’m still not going to come out and say it. Maybe Owen gave me one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had last nigh
t, but we didn’t have sex. And it’s not like I’ve seen him naked. Owen and I are simply acquaintances who happen to be making our way toward friends.

  Riiight…

  “You’re older and more experienced. Make sure he wraps it.”

  Alena’s eyes widen at Rob’s demand, but I turn around and hurry to the elevator before either one of them can say anything else. Luckily, it’s already on its way down, and I only have to wait a few seconds before the door opens. I barrel inside without looking, and Roxy jumps out of my way.

  Fucking fantastic.

  After one look at me, she leans against the wall, obviously changing her mind about getting her own cup of coffee. She hits the button for my floor, but then sends a leering grin my way. “You have sex hair.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s called bed hair.”

  “No, that’s definitely sex hair.”

  “I didn’t have sex.”

  Raising a brow, she counters my denial. “Why do you have two cups of coffee? Warming up to the ass-wipe?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “And wearing his shirt.”

  “It looked more comfortable than mine.”

  “Two cups of coffee, wearing a guy’s shirt, and venturing out first thing in the morning with sex hair.” She ticks off her fingers, forming a list of discriminating evidence, while I stand there willing the elevator to move faster and drop me off at my floor without any further commentary. “Was it at least good?”

  Two more floors to go.

  You know, the view from up here is amazing, but this elevator ride? Torturous. They should knock down the top ten floors, so their guests can avoid such agonizing conversations.

  “If anything happened that needed rating, it wouldn’t have been a low number.”

  She’s laughing when the doors finally open, providing me with a much-needed escape.

  Tomorrow morning will be very different from this one.

  Tomorrow, I’ll make Owen get the damn coffee and croissants.

  Owen

  Something is being shoved into my mouth. With enough force that it wakes me up. Swatting at whatever it is, I’m greeted with Sadie’s soft, musical laughter.