He kissed me again, sweeping his tongue inside my mouth and letting it linger. After several moments, my body completely relaxed and I felt a new surge of wetness between my legs. Only then did he begin to move, languid strokes at first, staying deep and stretching me out.
Then he pulled back, almost leaving me completely. I was about to protest when he surged back, filling me up totally as sensation rocked my body.
I couldn’t do much but grip his biceps and moan. It was the single most stunning feeling I’d ever experienced. And he did it over and over again. Until I was panting and my hips started moving, demanding something of their own.
Up and up we went—his body carrying me higher until we were both poised at the very edge of a cliff, staring down at the endless drop.
“Together,” he whispered and then with a final thrust, we both fell, plunging into never-ending bliss.
I could feel him pumping inside me; every single movement he made extended my pleasure even longer.
He collapsed beside me with a soft curse, reached for me, dragging me over his chest, and held me tightly.
“Sweet Jesus,” he said. “That was…” He paused. “I don’t even know what that was.”
“Does that mean it was okay?” I asked, hoping it was at least half as good for him as it was for me.
He lifted me off his chest. His eyes stared at me through the early morning light. “Please tell me you loved that. Please tell me you want to do it again.”
I giggled. “I loved it. I really hope we do it again. Lots of agains.”
He groaned and clutched me against him. “Don’t bother thinking you’ll find better,” he said, palming my butt. “Because you won’t. That was incredible.”
When I closed my eyes in pure satisfaction, I felt him reaching for something. I heard the nightstand rattle. Then the face of his cell phone lit up. “It’s eight thirty. What time do you have to be at work?”
“Ten.” I groaned. How was I going to get out of this bed? “I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I just became even less of a morning person.”
“You missed surfing.”
“That was better than surfing. You are better than surfing.”
And that was how he claimed yet another piece of my heart.
* * *
We showered together. I didn’t want to get my hair wet, so I pulled it into a ponytail and he was kind enough to wash my body. Some parts got really clean.
So I did what every thoughtful girl would do. I repaid the favor.
By the time we were done, the water was cold and I was almost late (you try being on time with a naked, hot surfer in your shower). So I rushed around the bathroom, brushing my teeth and applying lotion (with sunscreen) on my face.
After I got dressed in my Snow Cone Shack tank top and a pair of jean shorts, I took a minute to braid the front section of my hair, starting above my eye and braiding across the front all the way behind the ear. I secured the braid with a small band and pinned the rest up in a little twist on the back of my head with a gorgeous barrette that I bought one night after work at one of the nearby shops. It was handcrafted with colorful pieces of sea glass. Hopefully it would keep me cool.
“What’s with all the girl food?” Cam complained as I came out of the bedroom and grabbed my bag off the counter.
“Uh, two girls live here?” I said.
“Yogurt and granola,” he said, making a face and shutting the refrigerator door. “You need some man food.”
“Why would we need to get some man food?” I asked casually, stepping into the kitchen.
“Because this man intends on sleeping over. A lot.” He wrapped his arms around me and towed me into his chest.
I buried my faced in his shirt and grinned. “I’ll share my yogurt.”
He grunted. “I’m bringing over the bacon. And the Pop-Tarts.”
“You eat Pop-Tarts and bacon for breakfast?”
“Man food,” he growled.
“Junk food.” I argued and pulled back to grab an orange and a cereal bar to throw into my bag. Then I grabbed a bottle of water. “I’m ready.”
Roxie stumbled through her bedroom door as I slipped on my sandals. She looked exactly like me in the morning. One eye open, hair in a twisted mess, and walking like a zombie.
“I’m so sorry. Did we wake you up?”
“No,” she mumbled, heading for the kitchen.
“Coffee’s already made,” I said, amused.
“I had to get up because I have to take my car to get the air-conditioner fixed. It stopped working and I am not driving that thing around in this heat with no AC.”
“Yuck,” I agreed. “I work until four, but I’m not on the schedule tonight at the club. So if I don’t see you before you go in to work, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waved as she stuck her nose into her mug.
“You’re not working tonight?” Cam said as we walked down to the parking lot.
“No, but I work tomorrow night. How about you?”
“I work tonight, off tomorrow.”
“Oh, well, I’ll just take my car so you don’t have to rush between picking me up and then getting to work.” I looked over at my car, noticing something fluttering slightly in the breeze.
I went over to it, squinting, trying to make out what it was as I approached. When I knew what it was, I stopped and stared at it, an odd feeling snaking through me.
“What’s that?” Cam asked, coming up behind me.
There, pinned underneath my windshield wiper, was a one-dollar bill. “It’s a dollar.”
“A dollar?” Cam repeated, looking over my shoulder.
I nodded and pulled it free, looking it over to see if there was anything written on either side. There wasn’t.
“That’s odd,” I murmured.
“Probably someone’s idea of a joke.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, wondering what was funny about a dollar bill.
“C’mon, I’ll drive you. We gotta go or you’re going to be late.” He took my hand and led me away from my Toyota and deposited me inside the Mustang.
I was still gripping the dollar bill as we drove to Broadway at the Beach.
I stared at it the entire way.
Broadway at the Beach was packed. I wasn’t surprised, though, because it was the weekend and it was summer. The weather was gorgeous, clear blue sky, white puffy clouds, and the faint scent of the ocean in the air.