Sloane pushed her gently backward, the cool sheets pressed against her now overheated skin, then crawled over her, straddling her hips. The weight of her, solid, familiar, and perfect, pressed Reese deeper into the mattress.
Reese looked up, chest heaving, the rapid rise and fall brushing her breasts against Sloane’s bare stomach. “You have no idea how many times I replayed this in my head. Just … this. You on top does me in every time.”
Sloane’s gaze darkened to near-black. She leaned down and kissed her slowly, tongue sliding in a lazy, deliberate rhythm that made Reese arch up, her hips seeking friction against the seam of Sloane’s underwear. Sloane’s palms skated over Reese’s ribs, thumbs brushing the sensitive undersides of her breasts through the thin sports bra before tugging it up and off in one smooth motion. Sloane’s mouth followed instantly—hot, wet, closing over one nipple with a firm suck that pulled a sharp gasp from Reese’s lungs. Fuck, that lit her whole body up. Sloane’s fingers teased the other peak, rolling and pinching just enough to make Reese arch her back.
“Fuck—Sloane—God.”
Sloane hummed against her, the low vibration rippling straight down Reese’s belly and pooling between her thighs like liquid heat. She switched sides, sucking harder this time, tongue flicking in tight circles before soothing with slow, broad licks that left Reese trembling, skin prickling with goosebumps.
Reese’s hands fisted in Sloane’s hair, the silky strands slipping through her fingers, as the pleasure built in thick, deliberate waves, every nerve singing and reaching for more.
When Sloane finally kissed lower, open-mouthed and unhurried, tracing the quivering line of Reese’s abs with her tongue, the muscles jumped under the wet heat. Reese’s hips lifted instinctively, chasing contact. She was throbbing and nearing desperation. Sloane paused at the waistband of her underwear, breath skating over damp cotton, and looked up with that confident, knowing smile that always unraveled Reese completely.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
Reese swallowed hard, voice wrecked and hoarse. “Everything. All of you. Don’t stop.”
Sloane peeled the last scrap of fabric away with deliberate slowness, cool air hitting slick skin for only a heartbeat before her mouth returned. Sloane settled between Reese’s thighs, her shoulders nudging them wider. The first slow, flat drag of her tongue made Reese’s whole body jolt, a current snapping through her. The second drew a broken curse from her lips. Sloane took her time with long, languid licks that explored every inch, circling her clit with featherlight pressure before sucking gently, rhythmically, building Reese higher until her thighs shook violently and her hands clawed at the sheets, knuckles white.
The orgasm hit like the lights out on a grid. Her back arched sharply off the bed, a raw, shattered cry tearing from her throat as pleasure crashed over her in blinding waves. Sloane didn’t pull away until the aftershocks ebbed to soft tremors. She pressed tender, open-mouthed kisses to each inner thigh before crawling back up to claim Reese’s mouth again.
“Oh, don’t think we’re done yet,” Reese whispered against her lips, already rolling them so Sloane lay beneath her. “Not even close.”
Sloane laughed—soft, breathless, the sound vibrating against Reese’s chest. “Thought you were tired.”
“As if that would ever matter.” Reese’s hands roamed everywhere—cupping the warm weight of Sloane’s breasts, thumbs circling pebbled nipples until Sloane hissed through her teeth, then sliding down to shove Sloane’s jeans and underwear off in one impatient tug. The fabric caught briefly on Sloane’s ankles before she kicked it free. When Reese’s fingers finally slipped between Sloane’s legs, she found her drenched—hot, swollen, slick enough that Reese’s breath caught.
“Jesus,” Reese breathed, fingers circling slow, teasing, gliding through wetness that coated her hand. “You feel amazing. So ready for me.”
“Been thinking about this all day,” Sloane admitted, hips rocking up into the touch with a needy little roll. “Watching you fight for every position … knowing I’d get to feel you like this after.”
Reese slid two fingers inside her, taking her slow and deep, curling just right against that sensitive spot that made Sloane whimper. Her thumb pressed steady, firm circles over Sloane’s clit. Sloane’s head fell back against the pillow, her neck exposed, another cry spilling out as her hips rolled to meet every thrust. Reese matched the rhythm of Sloane’s body, deliberate and unhurried, as she kissed the column of her neck.
“Come for me,” Reese murmured against that racing pulse. “Let me feel you.”
Sloane did—hard and sudden, thighs clamping tight around Reese’s hand, her whole body bowing off the bed as pleasure ripped through her in shuddering waves. Reese worked her through it, bringing her down gently, her fingers slowingbut never stopping until Sloane’s gasps melted away and her muscles relaxed.
“Come here,” Sloane said.
They collapsed together, limbs tangled, breaths ragged and mingling in the quiet room. Reese pressed lazy kisses along Sloane’s shoulder, up the side of her neck, to the corner of her mouth. Sloane’s fingers traced idle, soothing patterns up and down Reese’s spine, nails grazing just enough to raise pleasant shivers.
“I love you,” Reese whispered, voice already thickening with sleep but arms tightening like she’d never let go.
Sloane kissed her temple, lips lingering. “Nowhere else I’d rather be. I love you, too.”
Reese shifted closer somehow, tucking herself more fully against Sloane’s side. Outside, the city hummed faintly beyond the windows, distant and unimportant. In the quiet cocoon of the room, the night felt suspended—no races to worry about, no expectations waiting for them in the morning, just the steady rhythm of two heartbeats.
Sloane brushed her thumb along Reese’s arm one last time before sleep claimed her. Reese was left marveling at the simple truth of it all. After everything—the distance, the doubt, the chaos of the season—they had found their way right back here.
She drifted off like that. They were spent and happy and wrapped tightly around each other, the world outside dimming while the certainty between them burned warm and bright.
The next morning in Barcelona arrived slowly, the city still quiet beneath a pale wash of early sunlight. From the balcony of the small hotel suite, Reese could see the tops of palm trees swayingalong the boulevard and the faint shimmer of the Mediterranean beyond the rooftops.
She stepped outside with two cups of coffee balanced carefully in her hands.
Sloane was already there, leaning against the railing in one of Reese’s oversized team sweatshirts, her hair still a little sleep-tousled. She turned when she heard the door slide open.
“Morning,” Reese said, handing her a cup. “Please always wear my clothes.”
