Sierra
I placed the open slices of bread on the cutting board and furiously spread mayonnaise and mustard over them.
I couldn’t believe Roger Wyatt was dead. The man I blamed for ruining my life wasn’t here anymore. It was a lot to take in. What did that mean for Blake? He was dealing with the death of his father. I had missed so many events in his life.
I hurried to wrap the turkey sandwiches and tuck them inside plastic sleeves. He would be here any minute. I couldn’t think about Blake’s dad or the past. Today was all about the future.
I watched Blake anchor his boat on a secluded end of the bank where few tourists visited. I wondered if he tried to stay away from potential fans on purpose. I was constantly at odds trying to figure him out. He had to be feeling that way too. Was that what this was? An attempt to make me fall in love with the island again so I wouldn’t sell the house?
Light bounced off the water and caught the glistening of a swimming school of fish. Sometimes wild ponies could be spotted on top of the dunes, playing a game of tag. I peered at the horizon, looking for the horses.
It had been eight years since I had been to the Cape, but Aunt Lindy had taught me well how to pack for a day at the beach. I’d never forgotten her lessons. I had a cooler full of drinks, sandwiches, and suntan lotion. Blake smiled as he loaded the cooler and other bags onto his boat.
“You know I usually just bring a six-pack of beer and sometimes a bag of chips.”
“I wanted to make sure we had everything we needed.” Maybe three bags were too many for a day trip, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him.
When we anchored, he helped me spread the blanket on a stretch of beach a few feet from where the waves were lapping against the shore.
I sprawled out on the blanket with a book while Blake started on a beer. I kept reading the same page over and over again. I couldn’t get past the second paragraph. Every time I looked up at Blake, all I could focus on were the endless amounts of chiseled muscles. There was something mesmerizing about his bronze skin, and my imagination was taking over as I watched him rub more lotion on his arms and chest.
“Either you can’t take your eyes off me, or you want some of this. Do you want me to put some on you?” Blake held out the lotion bottle with a coy grin. “The sun is serious today. I would hate for you to get burned.”
“All right.” It made sense. I didn’t want to get a sun burn this late in the summer.
I rolled onto my stomach, allowing him full access to my back. He poured a generous amount of coconut-scented oil in his palm. He rubbed his hands together, working the lather all over my back.
I closed my eyes as the circular motion of his hand deepened while he explored the curves of my hips. He pulled the ties that fastened my bikini at the middle of my back and laid them on either side of my ribs. I relaxed into the blanket as he massaged the untouched skin with more intensity, a move that almost brought a moan from my throat. He inhaled while his thumbs worked the small of my back, slowly dipping below my waistline.
“How does that feel?” he teased.
“Uh-huh,” was all I could manage to stammer.
“Is that all you have to say?” he asked. His hands made their way down my thigh, pressing in all the right spots.
“Do you want me to tell you to stop?” I giggled, hoping he would keep going.
It took everything in me to keep my hands and mouth off this man.
Blake laughed and, with one firm hand, pulled the edge of my sun-kissed shoulder so that I rolled toward him. He gathered the scraps of bikini fabric clinging to my skin, letting his fingers brush across the pink flesh of my breasts, and tossed the top over our heads.
I’d never felt so beautifully exposed before.
I gasped as his mouth found mine. His lips were firm and urgent, but I could feel the want and longing lingering between us. Playful teasing turned hot the instant he bit down on my bottom lip, just enough to make me catch my breath.
I yielded to his tongue and tugged him down against my breasts. His skin was hot from the sun, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders, as if that would keep me from spiraling out of control. Yes, I wanted this, but I hadn’t thought it through. Everything felt too good to stop. I could taste the salt on his neck as my lips grazed over his shoulder and worked up toward his ear.
Arching toward him, I drank in the feeling of his rough hands exploring the inches of my exposed skin. Gradually, his lips trailed down the line of my neck until he was hovering over my breasts, casting a shadow on the creamy skin that only a few minutes ago had been covered in a bright pink bikini top.
He stopped, and for a second, I worried something was wrong. I watched him, his eyes raked over me, taking in the curves of my body, my golden hair splayed all around the beach blanket, the rhythmic motion of my chest breathing in and out, and my eyes. I wanted him. I hoped he could see it. Everything happening between us right now felt hot, intense, and like we were in the same place, for the first time in eight years.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Sierra.”
He reached for my hands and brought them over my head, nestling them in the sunbaked sand off the edge of the blanket. I lightly pulled against his grip, wiggling closer to him, but steadily resisted the urge to struggle against his control.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
I nodded.