Lorelie Brown - Riding the Wave

It wasn’t fucking fair. He’d been the one doing his best to keep the family safe in ignorance for years. But he’d known on some level that this day would come. His staying away had only drawn out the inevitable.

“What do you have to deal with?” Avalon said with a snarky kind of insinuation. “Oh no, you might not win the World Championship. Again. Whatever will you do? At least you’ve made it once.”

He slammed to a stop, neighbors and sidewalks be damned. “So fucking what? I’ve made it once. My name’s gone down in Wikipedia. That’s supposed to be good enough? I’m supposed to quit for the rest of my life?”

Her mouth gaped. “No. But I’d think sticking around for a night to discuss something important would be a little higher on your priorities.”

“I didn’t even want to tell them to begin with.” They were at the front door of the rental house. A tiny bit of sand-resistant grass clung to the ten-foot square between the sidewalk and the house. He always felt bad for grass planted in San Sebastian. Kind of a lost cause.

He fished keys out and unlocked the door. Inside was even darker. He’d forgotten to leave a light on. Again. Stepping in, he tossed his key ring into a bowl on the front table. A mirror showed he looked like shit.

He wasn’t nearly as young as he used to be. Just this side of washed up at thirty-one. It was a joke.

“Well?” He dumped the contents of his pockets into the bowl with the keys. He’d never much liked being weighed down. Best-case scenario meant he had only a pair of shorts and a single key. And his board. He was always on the move, which was exactly why he couldn’t have a girlfriend. Avalon deserved better, but he didn’t seem to be stopping himself. “You coming in?”

Her head tilted. She still stood outside on the front stoop, arms crossed over her chest. “Seriously?”

“Why not?”

“Maybe because you ‘don’t need any more of my shit’?”

“I don’t.” He curled a hand around the edge of the door, leaned his shoulder into it. “But I’ve got a plan.”

“You do?” Her very voice dripped doubtfulness.

“I’m going to take you out on the water. We’ll talk a little bit, bitch a lot more. When we’ve both calmed down, we’ll come back in and take a shower. Together.”

She laughed, a short, sharp chuff of doubt. And shock, if he read it right. But she didn’t draw away. If anything, she leaned closer. Stepped one foot nearer, lifting onto the next step. “You think that’ll work on me?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and smiled. “I know for damn sure it’d work on me.”

He needed the ocean. The clean feel of being in cool water after the sun was gone. During the day, golden rays made it easy to ignore or forget how cold the Pacific could get. At night, it went right down to a man’s bones and cleared him out.

Showering with Avalon—hopefully with more to follow—would only be the perfect capper.

He needed that kind of distraction, that pure feeling to blow out the noise in his head. Surfing gave him the same sort of rush, that oneness with his body. The kiss he’d stolen off Avalon earlier convinced him that she’d provide the same rush.

And he could make her feel good in return.

“What the hell does it say about me that I’m so tempted?” She stepped a little closer. Hovering in the doorway, she looked part wraith, part fairy. Something ethereal. Which made sense with the way she sort of floated over the waves every time he’d seen her surf.

“It says you’re human. That you know we’d be good.” Reaching out, he uncurled her hand from her bent elbow. Drew her closer.

Her fingers shook the tiniest bit in his grasp. He smoothed them straight, laced his fingers with hers. Once they’d locked, a weight slipped from him. Yeah, this was what he’d needed. Some sense of connection. Avalon tied him to the earth, and made him feel a little more solid. He tugged lightly, and she came. Close enough that he could smell her again, the warm spice rising off her hair.

He kissed her. Softly. Lightly, his lips sliding over hers. She gave a quiet gasp and he only took it into his mouth.

Here, between them, there was no other shit. No other drama once he closed the gap. Everyone else could slide away and he could ignore them a little longer.

He needed this. Needed Avalon. If she didn’t agree, he’d be left alone with his thoughts. With the memory of the night’s strange ups and downs.

He tugged her hand, until they were snugly palm-to-palm, their hands one unit at their sides. Still he kissed her, flicking his tongue over her bottom lip.

When he drew back, her eyes were shut, her mouth still slightly open. Her chin tilted up as if begging him to kiss her again. With his free hand, he smoothed the backs of his fingers over her jaw. “Come in.”

Her eyes opened. In the white glow of the moon, they looked strangely dark. He didn’t like it. The one thing he was noticing about Avalon was how readable she was. Those eyes of hers gave everything away, always had. Even the first time he’d met her, when she’d been a too-young-to-notice girl, he’d seen desperation in her eyes. Thank God that emotion was gone at least. He didn’t want to feel like too much of a shithead. At least no more than he already was.

“Promise me one thing,” she said. Her voice barely carried to his ears.

“What?”

“It’s over in the morning. We go back. Shut it down. Family friends, photographer and subject. All the normal stuff is fine.”

He couldn’t help but touch the delicate line of her jaw again. She was like softness and determination all in one. “What’s tonight, then?”

“An escape. That’s all.” Her fingers locked on his, their palms sliding together. “I get tired of thinking sometimes.”

He took another kiss, this one fast and hard. His tongue swept into her mouth, stroked along the texture of her tongue. Mostly because he didn’t want to acknowledge how true her words were.

Pulling her forward, into the foyer, he kicked the door shut with a nudge of his toes. “Well, then,” he said. “We’ll make sure you don’t think, won’t we?”

The way Tanner looked at her was intoxicating. He made her completely dizzy, even before he kissed her with such sweetness. But she couldn’t make herself answer, not in words. She only let him pull her across the threshold. Maybe she’d leech sanity from him, a quiet moment outside the world.

Even as he pulled her toward the back of the house, she had nothing to say for herself.

He’d lined what was supposed to be the dining room with all sorts of boards. She didn’t even want to do the math on how much money it took to have that many surfboards lined up for use on a whim. For her, he tugged a Lost brand board out of a rack, then stacked it beside his at the back door.

When he pulled her into his arms, she went willingly, tired of feeling like she was letting him drag her through the night. If she was making this choice, she’d make it wholeheartedly and reach for it all with grabby hands.

The touches over her waist snuck under her T-shirt. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her neck. She stretched up, back, letting him have all he wanted. At the same time, she curved her hands around his strong back. Sturdy. He seemed so solid. She could grab on for a ride and he’d never falter.

“Do you have a swimsuit?”

A helpless giggle slipped from her throat. Such a prosaic, ordinary question when she thought she might explode. The night had been too much. Too long, too many highs, and way too many lows that she couldn’t even think about. And here it was, past midnight, and she was about to go out in the water.

Insanity.

That she’d gladly embrace.

“I have one in my bag.” She always did. Being a surf photographer meant she had to be ready to jump in the water at any moment.

He spoke against the tender skin of her throat, his lips moving softly. “Put it on.”

“Yeah, let me hit the bathroom, and I’ll be right back.” Her hand was already digging in her side-slung bag, in the back pocket.

But just as her fingers touched the slick material, he shook his head. “No. Here.”

He looked at her. The dim light made his features blunter. His nose a little more crudely carved, the line of his brow deeper and heavier. A tiny splash of caveman in a handsome guy. “Change right here.”

The protest that rose to her lips was automatic—but it didn’t go anywhere. She couldn’t manage to say it. Her mouth went sand-dry and her throat clicked as she tried to swallow. “Here?”

He smirked at her. A tiny curl of his lips. The pads of his fingers scraped over her waist, above her hipbones. A shiver worked its way down to her pussy, from that touch. He challenged her just by breathing, it seemed. “Yeah. Here. And I’m not going to turn around.”

She squirmed inside her skin. She’d always liked her body, for the most part. Maybe the inside of her thighs could use a little extra toning, but she didn’t do too poorly. Never in her life had she ever had a guy complain about her body. Not that she’d have put up with that for more than a nanosecond.

But all that had been in the moment. Mutual clothes-tearing and lustful groping. Tanner seemed to be asking for something else entirely. Something a little more demonstrative.

More open.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, but her hand went to the strap of her bag anyway. Drew it over her head.

Through it all, Tanner kept his gaze locked on her. On her face, not the motions of her body. The intensity combined with his wicked idea made her nipples bead up, tingling.

He backed up until he leaned against the dining table still planted in the center of the room. He wrapped his hands around the edge of the table, his ass barely seated. But for the casual position, he still looked focused. On her.