For You(37)
Author: Mimi Strong

How did he do that? Just say those flirty things, so matter-of-fact?

We found a stretch of clear, golden sand, where he dropped his leather jacket and whipped off his T-shirt.

He said, “I didn’t bring a towel, but you can sit on my shirt, m’lady.”

I zipped open my purse and pulled out the small towel I’d brought, just in case we went in the water.

His eyes went wide. “You are so much smarter than me.”

I tried not to stare at his lips and think about kissing him again. “Having a kid makes you prepare before you leave the house.”

“I have a lot to learn.” He tugged off his boots and socks, and then wriggled out of his jeans. He flopped back on the sand with his hands behind his head, his muscular arms folded.

The tattoos on his arms wrapped all the way around, and gave him the appearance of wearing more clothes than he was.

I slipped off my shirt and pants, wondering as I always did when I stripped down to my swimwear, how was it that you were considered dressed in a bikini, but not in your underwear, which covered the same areas?

I lay back on Sawyer’s shirt, the coolness of the sea breeze caressing my skin.

Sawyer rolled toward me, propping himself up on one elbow, his body blocking the sun from my face.

“This is the perfect day,” he said.

I nodded in agreement. I didn’t like to notice when things were good, for fear noticing would jinx everything. When my mother and Terry brought home the crib for the new baby, we’d celebrated with a big dinner—celebrated becoming a bigger family. I thought that was a perfect day, but it didn’t last.

I would prefer every day felt the same, rather than feel the excitement of something good and have to worry about it being taken away.

Sawyer reached down and pulled my sunglasses off my face. “You have the prettiest eyes. Are they green, or blue, or gray?”

“They’re whatever you want them to be.”

“Your eyes make me think of the moon.”

His face was in shadows, but I knew his eyes. “Yours remind me of the ocean. The bottom of the ocean.”

“What, like dirt and rocks?”

“No, like sea life. Like your tattoos.”

He leaned down and gave me one perfect kiss, then pulled away.

“Should we be those people?” he asked.

“What people?”

“The ones rolling around groping each other on the beach like there’s no one around.”

I whispered, “No,” even though I desperately wanted him to kiss me again and again.

He moved his free hand to rest upon my stomach, just below my navel. I quivered under his touch.

He murmured, “You cold?”

“Nope.”

He looked down at my body as he moved his hand up, tracing a line along my abdomen.

He said, “Your skin feels hot.”

“Your hand feels good.”

“I could touch you all day,” he said. “Let’s never leave this beach. No matter what happens in the future, let’s never leave this moment. Just me and you, at the edge of the world. At the edge of everything.”

“Okay.”

He reached over and caught a strand of my hair. “Okay, we’re staying.” He pulled the lock of hair under my nose, resting it along my upper lip. “You have this effect on me, like the moon has on the tide. It must be your sexy brown mustache.”

I giggled and swatted his hand and my lock of hair away.

And then he was kissing me, gritty sand falling against my chest as he reached over to bring his torso in line with mine, then on top of me.

I parted my legs and he dropped his knee between my thighs so he was on me, but supporting his weight on his elbows. He kissed my mouth, my cheeks, my neck under my ears.

The sun was hot on my face, shining through my closed eyelids and making everything feel red. The whole world was on fire, spinning out of control, and the heat spread down through my body.

My h*ps moved, tilting to seek more contact with Sawyer’s leg. His upper thigh contacted the spot on my bathing suit where my legs connected, and my hands sought purchase to pull him closer to me. I tilted up again as he kissed my neck, pushing that hot, thrumming part of me against him desperately.

He groaned and shifted his weight up, and I felt the length of him hardening inside his swimming shorts. Separated by only a thin bit of fabric, his rod was unmistakable, long and thick.

I reached down and grasped him through his shorts, clutching near the base.

He groaned and playfully nipped me on my earlobe.

I could barely catch my breath, and I was moving, being rolled over, on top of him. Now he had his head back, and I licked his beautiful neck, my tongue finding his Adam’s apple, my lips finding his pulse. My h*ps pressed down against his, the pleasure irresistible, and I rested my elbows alongside Sawyer’s head and gazed into his green eyes for a moment before closing my eyes and kissing his lips.

His kisses were incredible, with the most incredible mix of passion and restraint. His hands were hot and heavy on my back, and then moved down to my butt. As he cupped my bu**ocks, he rocked me up and down against him.

I lost myself in the ecstasy of the moment, but then we shifted, and I felt the grit of sand between our torsos. That sensation brought me back to reality, and the fact we were lying in a public place.

Extracting myself from his embrace, I muttered, “You’re so bad.”

He slapped my ass lightly as I rolled away. “You’re the bad one. The way you attacked me like that.” He shook his head, grinning. “Unbelievable.”

I adjusted the top of my bikini and fished my sunglasses out of the sand above my head.

Sawyer sighed and rolled his head to the side to stare at me.

With the sunglasses hiding my eyes, I took a long, thorough look over his chest. He had almost no chest hair, but it didn’t seem to be shaved, because there was no stubble. His chest was defined and sexy like a hot guy on a calendar. The tattoos of the octopus and the other sea stuff looked so natural the way they were placed, as if he’d always had them, right from birth. He did have some thicker dark hair, but it began just below his navel.

As I looked down further, I saw something that made my breath catch in my throat. Our little makeout session had caused some excitement below, and as a result, he was peeking out of the waistband of his shorts.

“Um, Sawyer?”

He reached over lazily with one sandy hand and traced his finger up my forearm. “I love hearing you say my name.”

“Are you, um, comfortable?”

“Yeah. Why, are you too hot? Too cold? Time for ice cream already?”

“Hmm.” I didn’t quite know how to say it. Couldn’t he feel that? If I didn’t do something soon, he was going to get a sunburn.