Author's Note: So this is that hot lifeguard story I promised I'd been working on as a counterpart to the sweet lifeguard story I'd written up a few months ago. It's weird that it took me so long to finish it (since this was obviously the one my dirty mind had thought about first), but I couldn't wait to share it - I just finished writing more than half of it just today, after literally months of not being able to get the words flowing.

I'm dedicating it to my friend Ms. Redd since it was her summer job that prompted my inspiration, but I hope everyone enjoys it. Let me know, either way!

Thanks!

Rachel strolled down the winding pathway from her villa toward the luxury resort's central pool, taking time to appreciate her surroundings. Living in New York City, her pace was always so rushed, much like the rest of her world, that she found herself purposefully meandering while on her vacation. She stepped slowly, one sandaled foot in front of the other as if walking on an invisible tight rope. Her eyes focused on the accompanying greenery, exotic flowers in what seemed like every color of the rainbow leading her toward the pristine pool. She'd made a conscious effort to let her mind wander, to leave everything that wasn't about relaxing and enjoying her time off behind in the States until she returned next week - hopefully refreshed and rejuvenated.

It wasn't her first trip to Mexico; she'd gone in college when her fathers had booked a family cruise that stopped along a few of the main cities on the east coast of the country. This was, however, the first time she'd visited since becoming famous. And she loved Broadway and everything it entailed, but there was something peaceful about being able to walk aimlessly and not have to worry about stopping to sign an autograph or avoiding the paparazzi. It was freeing to be able to just be, without any fear or anxiety of who could be watching and how they might be interpreting her actions. She'd never thought she'd seek such privacy when she was younger and had been working toward her current level of fame her entire childhood, but there was no denying that she'd needed a break. Even her director agreed, submitting to all of her needs even though the show would certainly take a hit from her absence. It was unfair to her understudy, too, who was most definitely qualified and deserved her chance in the spotlight - another fact that Rachel never assumed she'd believe, or at least admit.

"Miss Berry."

She smiled at the young worker, bowing her head in silent gratitude when he stepped to the side of the narrowing walkway as she neared the lavish pool. Everyone at the resort had been more than hospitable, and she knew it wasn't just treatment reserved to their more fortunate guests. The service paired with the breathtaking scenery and rich accommodations ranked the resort as the best she'd ever stayed in, which was information she not only noted for herself and any future vacations but also for anyone who followed her on any one of her social media sites. Her fans were probably entirely fet up with her posting pictures of all the mesmerizing scenes and mouth-watering food, but considering she'd only spent a couple of days at the resort and still had five to go she also knew it wasn't likely that she'd stop anytime soon.

"I don't fuckin' work here, asshole!"

Rachel turned at the distinct voice of her manager and best friend, Santana Lopez. The Latina looked as flawless as ever, wearing a white bikini top with a black-and-white patterned thong bikini bottom and a flowy white cover up that was sheer - and therefore not covering anything up. She had large, black sunglasses covering her eyes, but Rachel could almost feel the fire burning in them the closer she got to her and the shaded spot she'd chosen to rest her belongings.

"If one more person comes up to me hoping I'll translate something for them …"

"I didn't realize you were fluent in German," Rachel jested.

Santana pushed her sunglasses to the crown of her head and narrowed her gaze on her friend. Then, seeing the amusement on the brunette's features, she snorted out a laugh and shook her head while taking in her surroundings. Other than the aforementioned tourists who'd made the unfortunate mistake of assuming otherwise, Rachel was probably the only person in the world outside of Santana's immediate family who knew the Latina was part black and German in addition to her Puerto Rican heritage.

"Perhaps if you reined in that Latin temper of yours, there wouldn't be a giant sign above your head that pointed out you knew Spanish."

"Shut up," Santana huffed, throwing her stuff down in the cabana Rachel had chosen. "What is the damn point of this fuckin' thing? Can't get a tan, but can still melt in the heat? Fantastic."

Rachel smiled to herself, finding Santana's mood more hilarious than usual; her face was contorted in the same disgruntled scowl it had been since they'd arrived, and Rachel had to bite her tongue to stop from bringing up the weather again in fear of officially getting on the Latina's bad side. Mexico in the summer all but guaranteed 90-degree, sunny days. And neither woman minded the heat too much, but more than once already Rachel had to listen to Santana's argument about her tolerance being bred from her childhood in California and not because it was in her blood 'despite what the idiots here want to believe.'

"I'm gonna go to the tiki hut to get a drink, or four." Santana started to leave, then stopped and turned around, her frustration breaking for just a hint of humanity. "Do you want something?"

"Si. Gracias!"

Santana left muttering to herself in Spanish, and Rachel couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped. Her amusement faded quickly, though, her mouth nearly hanging open when her eyes stopped following her friend's retreat and instead focused on the lifeguard on duty. She hadn't exactly been taking an inventory of the resort's staff, but they were part of her moseying curiosity just the same as the landscape. And most of them so far had seemed to be on either side of the young or old spectrum. She hadn't noticed anyone that was remotely her age, and she'd assumed it was because the line of work wasn't really the role for a 30-something; college kids were working seasonally, and she'd guessed the others to be locals - though perhaps her assuming such didn't make her any better than those Santana had accosted thus far for similar implications.

Even from about 100 feet away, though, Rachel could tell the lifeguard was close to her age. His face held a sense of maturity about him that couldn't be faked, his posture speaking to life experience. He wasn't jumpy or anxious, his elbows resting easily on the arms of his high-raised chair while his hands hung idly in front of him. He wore nothing but a pair of red, lifeguard-issued (she could see the white cross and 'CPR' with a large check next to it on the one pant leg) board shorts, showing off just the slightest bit of chest hair that dripped down his torso and then out of sight; it was the kind of thing that men in their 20s hid or waxed off, but those older were more confident about, most understanding just how masculine it made them appear to women.

"Are you having a heat stroke or somethin'?" Santana questioned, a white frozen drink extended out toward Rachel but ultimately ignored. "Um, hello?" She turned to face the same direction as Rachel, and, in the corner of her abruptly tunneled vision, Rachel could see the Latina's smile widen nearly beyond capacity. "See somethin' you like, Berry?"

Rachel felt the blush rise to her cheeks, but she couldn't for the life of her stop staring. She wasn't normally the type of woman to gawk, let alone approach a man like the one she'd spent the past 10 minutes staring at - the kind of man who was attractive and knew it, the kind of man who could take his pick of any of the plenty of women who also knew he was attractive and definitely were the kind to gawk, approach, pounce. Yet, looking at him and watching the way his eyes shifted across the large resort pool until, she thought, he saw her and a sort-of lazy smile crept onto his face before he turned back to the water, she wanted to be that kind of woman.

"Help me put on my sunblock," Rachel asked sweetly, though the words were rushed and sounded a little desperate. She'd already applied the protective lotion before leaving her villa, but it was the only thing she could think of on the spot to maybe get the lifeguard's attention on her outside of drowning in the pool. "Get my back."

"Do you want to lie down first so I can straddle you from behind or …"

Rachel rolled her eyes, ignoring Santana's joking even though part of her wondered if that might be better. Then again, involving the Latina any more than necessary was likely ill-advised; she wanted the lifeguard to look at her, and that would be hard enough with said best friend anywhere close by. "Just help me, please."

"Fine," Santana agreed, dropping the bottle of suntan lotion and instead sauntering away back toward the tiki hut. Only, this time, she didn't turn to go get a drink; she rounded the corner and approached the lifeguard chair with her hands on her hips, her head craned back and her patented fake smile etched on her face.

Rachel watched in horror as the two interacted, catching their gazes drift to her more than once and praying to everything that was holy that her friend wasn't embarrassing her. Then again, it was Santana and the only other option was that she was taking him for herself, so perhaps a little embarrassment was the better option. Not that Rachel actually had a chance with a guy like that. As Santana loved to point out, Rachel had a type when it came to boyfriends; she reasoned it was based on compatibility and not the shallow standards her friend seemed fixated on, but her single status wasn't doing her any favors with said argument. If she were so compatible with these men, then certainly should would still be with one of them.

"What did you say?" She asked the second Santana was within earshot, the panic in her voice not even close to being hidden. "What he say? You didn't embarrass me, did you?"

She scoffed. "Please, you're embarrassing yourself enough as is - all of us, really."

Rachel rolled her eyes, momentarily forgetting about the lifeguard to point out, "I love how you're a feminist on your own time; never mind how often you exploit stereotypes of our gender when it suits your needs."

"Jealous."

Rachel rolled her eyes again, shaking her head mostly just because she didn't want the Latina to see the truth hiding in her brown eyes. More often than not, Rachel envied Santana. Not necessarily her looks or the attention she received - Rachel got her fair share of free drinks, too - but just her personality. She was fearless. She had an approach for any situation, going into such with a confidence that Rachel could never muster up unless she were completely comfortable. And, outside of the stage, there weren't many places she was that at ease.

"A little," she finally admitted, her voice quiet. "You could definitely get a guy like that."

"So could you," Santana pointed out quickly, both their eyes shifting back to the lifeguard. He'd clearly been looking over in their direction, but turned his head the second he must have noticed their attention. "He wants you."

"No." Rachel shook her head. "I'm sure he's looking at you. You're more his type."

"So … be his type." The Latina sighed heavily, picking up the drink Rachel had ignored earlier and all but shoving it into her hands before signaling for the brunette to drink it. "No offense, but no one knows you here. No papz followed us. You're free, to do anything and be anyone you want."

Rachel stared at her friend, still processing her words as the Latina tipped the glass in her hands to force more of the contents into her mouth. Swallowing thickly, she nodded once in determination. "You're right. I could do that." She quickly finished the drink on her own, swiveling her body so it was again facing the lifeguard, adrenaline (and alcohol) coursing through her. "I'm an actress, after all. It would be like playing a part."

"Thatta girl!" Santana smacked her ass, laughing after Rachel yelped in surprise. The latter scowled when the Latina tucked a condom into one of the cups of her bikini top, but eventually smiled when she cheered, "Go get'em, Tiger."

Her legs shook during the first few strides, but slowly her confidence started to take hold, propelling her closer and closer to the hot lifeguard. Rachel made sure to keep her head held high, desperately wanting to avert her gaze when she saw that her movement had grabbed his attention but keeping up the facade of being the kind of woman who wouldn't shy away from such. Instead, she swung her hips a little more deliberately, only stopping their tantalizing sway when she'd arrived in front of his lifeguard chair. She rested her hands on her hips and tried to smile flirtatiously as she leaned her head back to look up at him. He was even more beautiful close up, his jaw seemingly more chiseled and sporting what looked like a day's worth of stubble across the otherwise perfectly bronzed skin. He'd lifted his glasses up when she'd approached, and she completely missed the way he raked his eyes over her form as she tried to decipher the exact color sparkling in the deep depths.

"Uh, Miss?"

Her smile faltered and she damn near choked on her sudden gasp of air, searching her brain for the brilliant plan she'd devised on her walk over to him. She was going to be cool. Confident. Enticing. She started to shake, realizing she'd spent likely a full minute just standing near him staring before she sputtered, "D-do you know where I can find an extra towel?"

She wasn't sure if it was the way he tilted his head that made it seem like his eyebrows had risen above his hairline, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he simply smirked and pointed behind him to the restroom/steam room attached to the pool area. "Not sure 'bout the women's, but for the guys the old ones go in a bin by the door and the fresh ones are folded up on some shelves somewhere in the middle."

"Th-thank you," she muttered breathlessly, really just thankful she was able to speak after being floored by his voice. It was low, like a rumble of thunder during a storm, and she'd absently chosen a rock song he'd sound perfect singing as her way of remembering it. Although, even as she walked away in her attempt to save some of her dignity, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be forgetting it any time soon. In fact, she promised herself as she walked into the restroom that she'd hear it again soon, after doing a bit more research on how exactly to pull off being cool when around such a debilitating force as he'd been. But, just as she'd grabbed a towel from the stack (right where he'd said it would be) and hoped there was another way out of the building where she wouldn't have to run into him (or Santana) again, she heard the door open and turned and saw him. And dropped the towel in surprise.

So not cool.

"Hey," he greeted, the amusement in his eyes back with a vengeance as she tried to think of the proper response. "I'm Noah."

She blinked in reply, then cleared her throat before uttering, "Rachel." Her eyes fell to the towel she'd dropped, then anywhere else but back at him. She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Isn't this the woman's restroom?"

He hummed in affirmation, and she swore she felt her thighs clench unconsciously at the sound. Everything he did was hot, and she found it strange that she wasn't even offended that he was clearly breaking some rules by being in the same room with her. Perhaps she was pulling off this role as a different person better than she thought. Typical Rachel would be in the middle of berating him for his tactlessness, not to mention his complete disregard for several different privacy laws on top of what she had to imagine were some strict guest/employee restrictions. Cool Rachel, however, couldn't stop staring at the way his muscles seemed to ripple even more as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You, uh …" His brows furrowed toward his nose, his lips thinning for a brief moment before he asked, "You wanted me to follow ya, right?"

Rachel considered his question, not quite sure what her answer should be. She'd mentally established that she wasn't mad that he'd manifested inside the women's locker room, but it certainly hadn't been her intention for the two of them to end up inside together. Then again, did he necessarily need to know that?

"Shit," he cursed, his arms falling from their position against his chest and oddly busying themselves at his sides. "Your friend made it seem like … shit." He looked around the vacant space then, his voice lowering as he said, "Look, I'm sorry. Please don't … I dunno … fuck."

"Noah," she hedged, a small smile managing to creep onto her face at the pained expression clouding his otherwise flawless features. Even such a small glimpse of honor (albeit clouded in obscenities) was sexy on him. "No one needs to know."

"Great," he sighed in relief, bobbing his head a little. "Awesome. Okay. Sorry, for the, uh … miscommunication, or whatever. I'll just …"

"Actually," she began, taking a step forward to make up for the three steps back he'd moved. She inhaled deeply and somehow managed to hold it while she asked, "Could you help me with something?"

"Yeah." He pulled his hands out of the pockets of his swim shorts, nodding. "Of course. Yeah."

Rachel smiled wider, but inwardly cringed at the silence that quickly became deafening. There she was, Cool Rachel: Take 2, and she was about to bomb again. He'd looked at her so earnestly, just hoping to smooth over any bad blood they might have between them, and she still wasn't able to muster up the courage to put any sort of plan into action. Even worse, in this light she could tell that his eyes were a distinct hazel color and she found herself once again getting lost in them.

"I …" she trailed off desperately, searching the room for any sort of olive branch. Her gaze landed on the the line of luxury shower stalls, her eyes widening at the idea that formed in her brain and how the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth without a second thought. "Could you help me with the shower?" She fumbled to explain (read: lie) more, "I needed the towel because I wanted to rinse off before going back to my villa, but I, um, couldn't turn the nozzle for the shower."

She watched his head turn toward the showers in slow motion, her smile a mask of innocence when he finally looked back toward her before nodding his head in agreement. She followed him toward the shower and then watched in mild frustration when he flicked the silver handle out and then on. Bravely, she lifted her eyes to his face and nearly groaned at the bemused expression staring back at her. The only thing that stopped her, perhaps, was realizing just how close they were standing; she could practically feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, and she clenched her hands into fists to prevent herself from reaching out to touch him.

"Ya gotta pull, then turn it," he advised robotically, seemingly trying to read her.

"Ah," she replied, knowing even she couldn't pull off the level of acting required to make it seem like she hadn't pulled the whole thing out of her ass. Then again, at this rate she was fairly certain it was 100% believable that she was that stupid.

"Anything else?"

Her eyes flicked away from the stream of water and back onto his face, her breath catching as she watched the hazel orbs that she'd just acquainted herself with suddenly grow darker and yet all the more telling. The steam from the shower started to rise up around them, the sound of the water falling uninterrupted to the floor just white noise in comparison to the cacophony of her heart and mind racing. She could still feel Typical Rachel wading in the depths of her insides, reminding her that she was in a public place and he was a stranger, but she also felt Cool Rachel suddenly growing bolder. And it would seem that the third time was a charm, because almost without any hesitation did she spin on her heel and ever-so-slowly push the strands of her hair up off her back.

Speaking over her shoulder, she asked, "Could you undo the knots?"

She gasped in surprise when she felt his solid form envelope her from behind, her hands dropping her hair to brace themselves on the wall of the shower stall he'd moved them into. The water hit the very top of her head, cascading down a portion of the right side of her body but otherwise unnoticed because all she felt on her skin was his hands. They ignored the strings of her bathing suit and instead seemed to fuse to the curve of her waist and the plane of her stomach. She tightened her ab muscles in response to his touch, then thanked the heavens for his grip because she instantly went weak when his lips suctioned to the back of her neck.

"You're so fuckin' hot," he practically growled against the flesh, her eyes fluttering closed as she seemingly surrendered to his will. Her whole body shook with a need that she'd never felt before, and her breath came out in pants that had nothing to do with the way the warm water was starting to cloud the air. Instinctively she allowed her rear to push out against him, and she felt a surge of power flow through her at the obvious state of arousal she'd placed him into. So she repeated the action and giggled when his groan of approval vibrated across her neck.

"Can I help you with anything?" She asked wantonly, the sound of her own voice foreign but the sentiment of the words no less true. She grinned wickedly when she felt him push back into her, turning in his arms and looking at him full on for the first time since she'd seized the moment of opportunity. The hazel of his eyes was completely gone now, the blacks of his pupils overtaking the color and reflecting the same kind of passion she knew was swimming in her own gaze. "Anything."

The finality of her words shocked both of them, but no doubt more on her side considering the prelude that had been the entirety of her day outside of just a few minutes ago. Apparently all her years befriending someone like Santana had finally rubbed off, because never in a million years would she have ever assumed there would come a day when she would not only offer to give a man absolutely anything he asked for but willingly and nearly without prompting. Yet, there she was, doing just that - for a stranger - and praying to everything holy that he accepted. Because, also uncharacteristically, her eyes had momentarily surveyed the surroundings and almost too quickly conjured up several illicit things to do with the tile bench to the right that spanned the length of the shower stall (complete with grab bar that she knew was for assisting one in getting up, not getting off).

"Lemme touch you."

His request caught her off guard, which was either telling in regards to her past sexual partners or in regards to just how badly she wanted him. Nonetheless, she found herself nodding and gasping for air in the same second, her fingers curling around his forearm for stability when he instantly dove inside the small scrap of fabric she was calling a bathing suit bottom. Her forehead fell to his shoulder after just one expert swipe of his thumb over her clit, and she shuddered when she felt his forefinger slide effortlessly through her folds. God, she wanted him.

"Noah," she exhaled sharply when she felt his finger delve as far inside her as they would go, the second syllable nearly lost in the middle of her throat as she felt his other hand trail from the curve of her ass to the middle of her back. He finally undid the strings of her bikini top that he'd originally ignored, the fabric loose (slash useless) enough that it fell to the ground between them as he moved her until her back rested against the back wall. She squealed at the feel of the cool tile pressing against her skin, the sensation completely the opposite of the water that was now sliding down her front - not to mention the hot man who'd angled himself to be touching as much of her as possible.

"You're so wet, baby," he murmured before licking the shell of her ear before working his way across her jaw.

She held her breath in anticipation of his lips finally meeting hers, and whined desperately when he simply bypassed them to lavish the opposite side of her jaw in the same fashion. She forced her eyes open to convey her confusion/disapproval, though she could barely make out his cocky grin through the hooded lids. His arrogance was well deserved but infuriating nonetheless, and she accepted her new brazen attitude with absolutely no guilt by retracting her one hand from its desperate hold on his side to cup him through his board shorts in retaliation.

"Fuck," he breathed, his thumb pressing more insistently against the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs in the same way she felt more of his weight press her against the shower tile. And she did her best to keep any sort of rhythm to her ministrations, but she'd clearly broke through some sort of unknown barrier of his self-preservation because he refused to let up after that first initial contact. In fact, she had to use most of her energy just to keep herself upright, a feat that was next to impossible when he added another finger without missing a beat. Seconds later there was no hope, her arms tightly circling his neck to keep herself from falling - literally, of course, as there was no way of avoiding the cliff-diving feeling of her orgasm as it shot through her veins like a drug. She only loosened the tight coil across his broad shoulders when she felt the last aftershock subside, fading at the same rate of the languid pace his fingers had slowed. Her breath hitched when he finally removed them, the hollow feeling replaced by a new kind of need as she watched and heard him enjoy the remnants of her arousal from the digits.

"Sit down," she demanded breathlessly, not waiting for his reaction or even a response before pushing him until his calves hit the tile bench and he tumbled down into a seated position. The discomfort of the hard tile on her knees nor the awkward position of the shower head hitting them did anything to halt her next action, her hands deftly removing his swim trunks and grabbing hold of his hard member in nearly the same moment. She locked eyes with him for only a moment before engulfing him between her lips, his head lolling back until a soft thud reverberated in the small space. She felt his hand drift across her shoulder and into her hair, pulling just hard enough that she knew it hadn't been an accident. Her resulting moan tore a strangled sound from his own throat, and she smiled around her movements against him at the helpless heap of beautiful man in front of her.

"Shit, baby. Stop," he warned only a couple minutes later, his thumb digging into her skin to keep her from bobbing up and down. "If you want more, ya gotta stop."

"I want more," she answered automatically, pivoting back onto her heels before standing and finally removing the bikini bottoms that had earlier just been shoved to the side. She lowered herself onto his lap before he was done appraising the newly exposed area, his hooded expression compliment enough. "Now."

"S-shit," he hissed, his posture straightening and his hands gripping her hips firmly. "You're perfect." He pressed one of his hands flat against her lower back, forcing their centers to rub together deliciously. "So God damn perfect."

Rachel hummed her appreciation, her back arching at the sinister way their pelvises rocked into one another's. Pairing that with the way his mouth latched around one of her nipples and she couldn't have suppressed her cry of pleasure even if someone had offered her a million dollars. Her hands clawed at the back of his head, fighting between her desire to keep him exactly where he was and her need to taste his lips on hers. When she felt him playfully nip at the top of her breast before running his tongue gently across the abused area, her mind was made up. She cradled his strong jaw in both her hands and drew his lips off her collarbone and onto her mouth, sighing in satisfaction the moment their lips met.

Without the need to direct him any further, she dropped her hands from his face and down to his arms, reveling in the smooth, taut skin of his biceps. Paired with the agonizingly enjoyable way they were still gyrating and the fact that he was no doubt the best kisser on the face of the planet, she wasn't really all that surprised when that familiar burn suddenly ignited and she once again burst into flames. Boneless but somehow still craving more, she increased the intensity of her kiss, opening her mouth wider and sliding her tongue against his in much the same fashion she wanted him to do to her. And if that didn't get his attention, then she was sure the soft bite to his upper lip before she pulled away got her point across.

"I'mma fuck you so hard," he promised gravelly before, all of a sudden, his eyes widened and his grip of her hips turned almost bruising. "Fuck!" His eyes snapped closed, his frustration continuing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuck."

"What's the matter?" She asked, hoping against all hope that it wasn't what it seemed like. She really wasn't expecting his type to be the kind to have what she'd always consider the mailman problem.

"I wasn't expectin' … shit!" He pulled his eyes from off the ceiling, looking at her solemnly. "I don't have a condom."

Her heart sunk as the implications of his words were like ice on her hormones. He might be the most attractive man she'd ever seen (let alone kissed), but he was still a stranger and there was no way either of them should take the other's word when the consequences could be so great. Still, she was beyond disappointed and the way both of their shoulders seemed to fall in defeat only showcased that. Begrudgingly, she moved to lift herself from his lap, growing beyond awkward with his face's position at her breasts …

"My boob!" She shouted in triumph, twisting in her spot and then scrambling off of him when she saw the small foil package soaking on the floor along with her bikini top. She presented the condom out toward him like a kid who'd just received an A+ on a paper, the sheer joy that overtook his face matching the surge she felt buzzing through her. "Santana gave it to me before I approached you!"

"Now she's my best friend, too," he gritted out, pulling her closer by the tops of her arms and yanking the prophylactic from her hand. He ripped the wrapper and rolled the latex over himself quickly, steering her once more until she was again settled against him. The heat that had abruptly evaporated from their previous encounter reignited like a flash fire, both of them moaning in appreciation of starting right where they'd left off. Their mouths explored one another as freely as their hands did until, finally, their bodies connected in the best way possible. She broke their kiss first, resting her forehead against his and stuttering out an uneven breath before diving back in full force. Her hands snaked across his chest and over his shoulders, sloping in and out of the contours of his back before using the position to her advantage. He'd started to thrust up into her and she held onto him while rolling her hips to avoid breaking the divine choreography of their bodies.

"I'm close," she announced breathlessly, hopefully giving him permission to cross the finish line with her. And he seemed more than willing, using her hips again to move her the way he desired - this time rougher against him and at an almost frantic pace. The new ferocity was all Rachel needed to push her over the edge, her head falling back and her mouth falling open. It wasn't until the initial rush of the orgasm passed did any sound manage to escape her throat, her relieved whimper mingling with his strong guttural moan. Then, for at least a full minute afterward, the only sound that could be heard was the harsh in and out of their breathing (and the shower that had eventually turned cold).

"Wow," she decided on, unable to think of anything more poignant than that to describe what had just transpired between them.

"Yeah." He nodded in agreement. "Legit, tell your friend thank you."

Rachel laughed breathlessly, nodding her own agreement against his shoulder as she still worked to come down from her high. Slowly, though, reality began to set in and she found herself leaning back, oddly inquiring, "How did you know she was my best friend?"

"Chicks vacation in groups," he stated matter of factly, his face contorting a little when she moved to separate their bodies. "A pair either means a couple or best friends." He spoke while removing the condom, only looking at her after he'd finished tying it off. "And when she came up to my chair, she said, 'My best friend thinks your hot.'"

Rachel felt her chilling skin flare red again, but for completely different reasons. She huffed in mild anger. "Why didn't you just tell me you knew?"

"Knew what?" He asked, laughing more after she'd punched him in the arm for laughing. "For real, I knew you thought I was hot, not that you'd be down for havin' sex in the bathroom."

If it were at all possible, her embarrassment reached a completely new level, but not before yet another emotion could pile onto the mess: panic. She'd had sex with a complete stranger in a bathroom. A public bathroom. "For the record, I normally wouldn't be the kind of girl to be down for such activities. In fact, normally I wouldn't even have the opportunity because typically I'm being followed by at least one photographer for my work on Broadway."

She was nearly hyperventilating. "Not that that is why I wouldn't. I just … I've never really done anything like this. I'm a relationship kind of girl. Always have been, however infrequently. And … I mean, I leave in five days and I don't even know your last name and ..." She inhaled deeply through her nose, holding the breath while her mind continued to spin at warp speed. Why had she said all that? She felt so stupid. He'd stopped laughing, too, which wasn't helping matters. If anything it was just making her more nervous, which seemed unlikely given that she was still naked sitting beside him.

"It's Puckerman."

She dared to lift her eyes up to him, surprised to see the sincerity in his once-again hazel gaze. "Noah Puckerman," she tested it quietly, smiling a little at the way it flowed off her tongue before tentatively extending out her hand. "Rachel Berry."

She hiccuped at the electricity that shot through her when his hand slipped into hers, and that devilish smile of his returned to his face. "Pleasure." He pumped her hand twice before releasing her to refasten his board shorts and then retrieve her previously discarded swimsuit. "And next time we can use a bed, if that'll make ya feel better."

Rachel considered herself a fairly intelligent woman, but she yet again found herself blinking in response to his words, unable to decipher their meaning without further prompting. "Next time?"

"Yeah." He held open for her the towel that she'd long abandoned, still smirking. Still beautiful. "Ya said we got five days, right?"

Her 1,000-watt smile spread across her face before she even had a chance to censor it, as if that would have even been a possibility. It had barely been possible for her to secure the towel around her frame before she was grabbing his hand and leading him back toward her villa. They ended up staying in her suite for the entire five days, though she did make sure to text Santana her gratitude as well as upload a picture one day of her and Noah laying (clothed … mostly) out on the patio.

She hadn't wanted her fans to miss out on the beautiful scenery.