Waiting For You (Beautiful Surrender #1)(5)
Author: Ava Claire

One kiss, and I was putty in his hands.

One kiss, and I knew he was right.

I was going to beg.

Chapter Four

I knew that Logan wasn’t home, but I still paused after I opened the sliding door, checking to see if he was waiting to pounce. Wanting him to pounce.

After we kissed yesterday, I’d been ready to beg then and there, but he’d ended the kiss, fixed his towel (and showed me just how much he enjoyed kissing me), then did exactly what I asked. He left.

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to go after him, or worse, pull out my trusty vibrator to finish what he began. It would have just made me want him even more. That kiss had everything I’d been looking for, starving for: passion, need, uncontrolled desire. If I nearly came from his kiss, what would the rest of Logan do to me?

Absolutely nothing. The rational part of my brain took the wheel. Logan Mason is off limits. He’s…he’s…exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

I knew it was crazy. This kind of thing took time, right? Even if I had a bad case of lust at first sight, I knew myself well enough to know that it would be impossible for it not to become something more for me. Some people could hook up and check their emotions at the door, but I hadn’t mastered that ability. Logan would rock my world, and even if we agreed it was casual, with no strings attached, my heart would get in the way. I wanted his body, but I also wanted to know his story. Where was he from? What things drove him wild? What things did he hate?

And that was exactly why I was doing recon before I went to the beach for the day. I couldn’t risk running into him when he’d gotten under my skin. Telling him to go the first time had been easy, but that was before the kiss. It would be impossible now.

The coast was clear, so I pulled my beach bag over my shoulder. I closed and locked the sliding door behind me. According to the information book in the studio, the neighborhood was safe so I didn’t have to lock up, but I was from Sacramento. It wasn’t much, but my laptop was my life and I didn’t want some beach bum to break in and hawk it on Craigslist.

I rounded the corner, eyeballing the hot tub with disdain. When I’d first booked the studio with me and Jason in mind, I’d had plans that involved his body and my body –

I banished the thought with a sniff. My fantasies would have been dashed anyway. He’d be too tired or not in the mood, and when I looked disappointed, he’d make me feel even worse by whining about how much pressure I put on him.

My heart was filled with lead as I remembered his favorite line: I love you, Mel. Isn’t that enough?

I pulled my shades from the crown of my head and dropped them over my watery eyes. As soon as I stepped through the gate and got on the street, the ocean air flooded my system. My tears dried. March was the perfect time to come here. It wasn’t high season so the streets were clear, with only a local or two walking past with their pets or surf gear. The sun warmed my skin and the breeze kissed my flesh. My swimsuit was beneath my cardigan, my oversized jeans rolled up mid-calf. I saw the water, blue and vast, in the distance. I snapped a picture with my phone, entertaining the thought of sending it to Jason, but then I talked myself out of it. I’d ignored every other attempt to re-open the lines of communication, and I needed to keep it that way.

I sent it to Stacia instead. Her reply was swift.

Stacia: Jealous! Slept with any surfer guys yet?

I laughed out loud and quickly typed a reply.

Me: Absolutely not.

I almost told her about Logan, but I knew her. She’d tell me to screw him ASAP, and the devil on my shoulder needed no encouragement. I tucked my phone back in my bag as I crossed the street. Pleasure Point, in a word, was breathtaking. The sun glittered like diamonds on the water. Frothy white waves rose and fell as surfers bobbed and paddled, fading into the blue sea. I followed the stairs to the beach, kicking off my flip-flops. My feet sank into the sand, the golden brown particles squeezing between my toes. I watched the surfers ride the waves, envious of their agility. I could swim well enough not to drown in an emergency situation, but it was nothing beautiful or effortless looking. And if you added a surfboard? Yikes.

I watched them for a few more minutes, walking to the edge of the water, then I moved back up the stairs. Benches lined the sidewalk and I picked one in the sun. I’d sunbathe for a bit then head to Capitola Beach and whip out my blanket and umbrella.

I closed my eyes, dueling warmth and chill rocking me gently until unconsciousness swallowed me whole. In my dreams, Jason was pulling me into the water, ignoring my words. We were going too deep, too far from the shore. He let me go and I flailed, my body sinking into the dark water. The soft blue darkened to navy, then pitch black. His voice was as cruel and dark as the water.

“For once, I have to do what makes me happy.”

“Melissa?”

The voice wasn’t Jason’s. It was…Logan?

My eyes flew open, locking onto Logan’s intense evergreen gaze. My shirt was open in the front and he was flicking his eyes from my face and chest, but it wasn’t in an erotic way.

He winced, his eyes narrowed in concern. “How long have you been out here?”

My head was still foggy with sleep so I frowned, not understanding. “What? I–” My mouth hung open in a silent cry of agony when I moved. My skin was tight…no, that word didn’t seem right. Tight would have been bearable. This felt like my skin had been pulled like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. This was a deep, paralyzing pain that consumed my face, neck, and chest. I looked down and confirmed the obvious. My skin was an angry red. How long had I been out here? Gritting my teeth as I moved, I rummaged through my tote bag. I woke up the screen of my phone. I’d been asleep for over an hour!

I glanced peevishly up at Logan. It seemed like there were only two emotions that reigned when he was near. Either I was so aroused I couldn’t stand it, or I felt so awkward and gangly that I was embarrassed. At the moment, I could tick the ‘embarrassed’ box.

“I’m such an idiot,” I groaned.

His eyes softened. “Yeah, but you make it look incredibly adorable.”

I blushed. Or I think I blushed. It was hard to feel anything but pain.

He held out his hand. “Luckily for you, I’m kind of amazing when it comes to these delicate situations.”

“When people burn themselves to a crisp?” I quipped.

“Helping a damsel in distress.” My eyes narrowed defiantly and he chuckled. “Let me help you, Melissa. No strings.”