“You look f**king fantastic,” I say, purposefully dragging my eyes up and down her body.
Her smile grows even wider and the air suddenly becomes denser.
I draw her in and embrace her. She lets me, even allowing my lips to linger in the crook of her neck. I can hear her breathe me in and I have to stop myself from grinning like a f**king idiot.
I slide my palms down to her ass, touching every curve I can along the way. With a slow hiss of breath I say, “Hi there.”
“Hi,” she says with that innocent voice that always seems to come out of nowhere and jump-start my already aching need to take her. Which is what I want to do right now, right here.
“Pizza?” she says, pulling away just as my fingers start to circle around to her hips.
Fuck! I need to play it cool. Don’t chase her away now. Rechanneling my thoughts, I rub my stomach. “Sure, sounds good. I’m pretty hungry.”
“I know a great place and we can even walk.” Her voice tapers off and she seems distracted.
“Everything okay?”
“Just a crazy day. Glad it’s over.”
I straighten and look in her eyes. “Want to talk about it?”
She stiffens. “No. Not now.”
I nod and grab her hand to lead her out of the courtyard. We eat and end up meandering down Sunset for a bit afterward. Just as the sky turns dark we head back to her place with coffees to sit in the courtyard.
“So, what happened at work today?” I ask.
“Oh, really it’s nothing. Tate has me doing two really big weddings next month and the clients are very needy,” she says, sipping her decaffeinated coffee with so much milk and sugar I doubt it even tastes like coffee.
“I thought you were going to quit soon.”
“I was planning on it at the end of the year but haven’t really gotten my own business off the ground. And these weddings are huge. I’ll have the potential to make so many contacts through them I really want to impress them.”
“I don’t doubt you will.”
“Tate is just such a micromanager that sometimes I feel like the clients know he’s babysitting me.”
“Tell him to go f**k himself.”
She laughs. “I wish I could some days.”
“He’s such a dick-wad, I wish you would.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t even know him. Why do you dislike him so much?”
“I don’t have to know him. I don’t like the way he treats you or the sadness I see in your eyes when you get off the phone with him. And besides, he has the hots for you.”
“No, he doesn’t. We broke up over a year ago.”
My eyes shoot out of my head and before I can stop myself I’m bolting out of the chair. “Are you f**king kidding me? You slept with him!”
She squishes her lips together in displeasure. “No. Just because I date someone doesn’t mean I sleep with him.”
My blood pressure is boiling. Yeah, I guess I already know that. I look up into the night and stare at the stars, taking deep calming breaths. “I should be going,” I say.
She grabs my wrist. “Don’t be mad. Don’t go. Isn’t it still early?”
Her hand slides to my hand, but I don’t grab it. “Yeah, it is but I took tomorrow off and I’m hitting the surf at sunrise.”
“Really? I’d love to join you.” She takes my hand in hers since I wouldn’t take hers, and electricity jolts me.
I let my annoyance with the jackass go as best I can and grin at her. “Don’t you have Ivy’s release party?”
“Yes, but not until later.”
“Are you sure? You’ll have to get up really early.”She nods. “I’m sure. I’ll be there,” she says, standing up and staring at me for the longest time.
I kiss her on the cheek, letting my lips linger and start for the gate. I turn around. “The main beach at six thirty,” I say. “In the morning,” I clarify.
“I know that,” she calls before reaching her top step and then disappearing around the corner.
I stay where I am, buzzing from the high of knowing the walls she’s erected between us are crumbling. She has never agreed to come to Laguna—to come to me. Tomorrow should be a whole lot of fun.
• • •
Breathe in. . . . now exhale. Feel it. Enjoy it. Don’t rush it. Prolong the awesomeness for as long as possible because while it’s happening you experience only one thing—pure joy. It becomes an addiction . . . you can’t help wanting to do it over and over again. There’s no greater feeling in the world than being one with her. And in that single moment she becomes everything you want and everything you need rolled together. There’s a weightlessness that exists between us as I move quickly—up and down, hovering over her. I gain speed and it’s thrilling, exhilarating, liberating even. I can feel her everywhere—the salty, tangy taste she leaves in my mouth, the way my feet shift to accommodate her size, her cold spray on my body. I break through her ledge and position myself on her peak. She’s large and hollow and I have to move forcefully to stop from getting caught in her lip, but I do it and just like that—I’m riding the best f**king wave.
The sun rises on this anniversary of sorts and there’s a haze hanging in the air as I enfold myself inside the wave’s whirl. I look ahead and can’t help thinking that for the first time in a long while I’m focused, I have no doubts, and I know where I’m going. It hasn’t been easy. It’s been a long road. I wince at the memories of how poorly I acted—how badly I handled everything. Blinking my sad thoughts away, I look up as the swell emerges from more than one-hundred-foot depths and watch as the silver-tinted waves of the Pacific roll in at a lightning-fast rate. Then I ride her out like a master. When I know my time is up, I take a full breath, all the way from my stomach to my chest, tilt my head back to open my lungs, and take in more air until it happens—the water cascades all around me and I’m completely submerged. Time stands still while I swim through the blur and toward the light. I reach the surface and blinking, I see the clear day that is beckoning on the horizon.
Chest to board, I paddle in and watch the shore come alive in the early morning hours. As I scan the beach, my eye catches a reflection of sorts in the sand. I strain to see what it is and that’s when I see her. Cupping the water faster, I pick up speed and hit shallow water. I can’t help grinning at the sight of her. Last night I was pissed as hell at her, but now seeing her—it all just slides away because the sexy, sassy, and funny-as-hell girl that won’t let me call her mine is waiting for me. Waving a hand in the air, I shake the water from my hair and tuck my board under my arm.
“You made it,” I yell as I emerge from the water.
“I did,” she says, shading her eyes with her hand.
“Where’s your board?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have one.”
“All right, then—it looks like we’ll be taking turns.”
My gaze sweeps the length of her and once my body stops humming in desire, I curl my fingers over my mouth to stifle my laughter at what she wore to surf in—a flowered green bikini with gold strings at the neck and hipbones, earrings, and even a necklace. She looks f**king beautiful, like Miss America. She’s even wearing sparkly sandals. And even though today isn’t about winning a beauty pageant, I can’t help approaching the unrivaled winner with a cheerful smirk.
As I close the distance I feel something shifting between us. It’s in the way she’s looking at me. Her alluring features come clearly into focus—the long strands of her red hair blowing in the wind, her full br**sts popping out from beneath her tiny top, the curvy shape of her hips, and f**k me, she has a belly button ring. I try to tame the thudding of my pulse, but it isn’t easy. It’s been hard enough keeping my hands off her, well, semi off her, with her clothes on—this is going to be hell.
Kicking the sand up beneath my feet, I lift my gaze upward, where I notice the sparkle in her emerald green eyes. A slight sense of pride overtakes me because her eyes are shimmering. I think they might even be dancing with anticipation. It thrills me that she’s here this early to surf and happy about it. Just a few short weeks ago I wasn’t sure what I saw when I looked into her eyes. At first I thought maybe hate, anger, disgust—or possibly a combination of just about every negative emotion. But it was fear and I’ve been taking the time to make it clear that she’s mine. I’ve been doing it subtly, but I will do it.
When a cool breeze presents itself on the shoreline, I stop on my heels and dig my board into the sand. I move a little closer but know I should keep a healthy distance between us. Although it doesn’t seem to matter how close or far away she is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. She bends down to rub some sunscreen on. When she does her br**sts spill out farther from her top and I have to suppress a groan. I take a deep breath and sure enough, it’s there—that lemony citrus smell that’s everywhere when she’s around.
I lean down and reach for the bottle. “Here, let me help you.”
My guess is she’ll say no, so when she hands me the bottle I’m shocked.
She stands straight and turns around, lifting her hair as she does. “You can do my back.”
“I was thinking I’d start with the front,” I say, my voice going deep all on its own.
I notice her stiffen before she hands me the sunscreen over her shoulder. It’s cool in my hands and I rub my palms together to warm it. My fingers cover her shoulders and the back of her neck. I knead her skin ever so slightly and slide down under the strings in the front a little. She gasps and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the chill of the lotion. Her skin is soft and I notice a few faint freckles I never knew she had on her shoulders—they’re sexy as hell. Her head drops as I rub down her back. When I get midway I caress the skin spilling out from the sides of her tiny top, and again a slight shiver rocks her shoulders. I grin to myself like a Cheshire cat.
“You’re full of tension. You could use a massage,” I whisper in her ear, moving down her back a little more until my fingertips rest on the fabric of her bottoms. I let them slip inside teasingly and pull them back out.
She jumps and turns around. “I’m good. That’s enough,” she says, sounding a little flustered.
I grin and hand her back the bottle. “If you say so. I just didn’t want you to burn.”
“I won’t,” she says. “It’s not that hot today anyway.”
As the words leave her lips and I’m just about to tell her the temperature has nothing to do with the strength of the sun’s rays, I notice she’s wearing makeup and I have to try hard to suppress my laughter.
Squinting, she puts her hands on her hips. “What is so funny?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
She purses her lips and narrows her eyes.
I just smile at her and pull her sunglasses from atop her silky soft hair and place them on her face. I let my thumbs linger for a few short seconds and caress her cheek.
“There, now you don’t have to squint.”
She touches their sides. “Thank you,” she says, and I can see her ni**les protruding in hard nubs.
I’m not sure if it’s from the water I dripped on her or my touch, but I’m going with the latter. I’ve behaved myself for much longer than I ever thought I could. But I know she wants me and if she won’t admit it, I’m going to have to push her along a little. The old me would already have done that. Hell, the old me would never have allowed a girl to call the shots.
But I’ve made too many wrong decisions in my life and have too many atonements to make. And she deserves one of them. The fact that she’s even talking to me is enough reason to stick around.