“Whoever upset you tonight deserves a swift kick in the ass. And also, I’d like to shake his hand.”
Her brows dipped and that same hurt from earlier rippled across her delicate features.
“Because if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have gone sprinting by my beach house.” His words made her smile, and he grinned back. An unfamiliar sensation of tightness filled his chest, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just different. “And as soon as I dispose of this,” he said, lifting the used condom off the ground, “I’ll take you to my place and give you the tour. We can shower and get this sand out of all the places where one should not have sand.”
“Okay.” A flush covered her cheeks.
He couldn’t help but grin. She was embarrassed now. He winked and kissed her on the forehead.
Glancing around, he saw that the only garbage can was about half a mile up toward the strip of houses and resorts. As he jogged over to them, he had the strangest feeling that he shouldn’t have left her alone. It was dark after all.
He picked up the pace and tossed the condom in the trash from a foot away. A group of teenagers giggling and whispering passed in front of him. He could smell the joint they were handing around. Ah, to be young.
After they passed, he walked briskly back to the woman whose name he was about to demand. He wished he had his cell phone so he call Keaton and tell him to get everyone out of his house pronto. He’d handle that once he got back to his place though. His fantasies of taking her slow and deep in the shower were running rampant. But when he returned to the spot where he’d left her, they died a screaming death.
He looked in every possible direction. Checked the sand for telltale footprints. There were too many to pick out one particular path.
Lowering himself into the position that mirrored the one she’d been in, he let his head drop to his hands. He’d done everything wrong. She was beautiful. Perfect. Wounded. And she’d wanted him. Needed him. He should’ve refused to give in until she had at least told him her name. Should’ve begged and pleaded until she’d come back to his beach house, where they could talk about whatever the hell had her so upset.
It didn’t even matter now. She was gone.
W hat did I just do?
It couldn’t be undone. There was no going back. The finality of it slammed down onto her hard and fast.
Each time the ocean receded from the shoreline, she felt like it was pulling her along with it. The sand was literally falling away from beneath her. Her heart pounded, rushing a flood of blood to her ears.
She wasn’t this woman—this impulsively reckless woman who got fucked by a stranger on the beach in the dark. What had he said about his beach house? And other people?
How would he introduce her? As the woman who’d just given him her virginity without offering her name or asking for his?
This is shock. I’m going into shock.
She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of here.
Standing shakily, she began to distance herself from the ocean she’d almost walked into. A group of what sounded like teenagers passed behind her, laughing softly and talking about the party they were heading to. She maneuvered around them and practically ran the few feet to the closest beach house—a dark-blue, well weathered, clapboard two-story with a detached garage. She stole around the edge of the garage and peeked back to where she’d last seen her sexy stranger. With each step, she expected to hear a man yell out for her, but what could he yell?
He didn’t know her name.
I have nowhere to go.
It was the only thought permeating the haze of shock that still clouded her mind the next morning. She’d waited until her she was fairly certain her sexy stranger had made his way back to his beach house before walking back to The Atlantica sans shoes.
The place had been practically deserted. The decorations were gone. The wedding was officially off.
A student from a local
Her brows dipped and that same hurt from earlier rippled across her delicate features.
“Because if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have gone sprinting by my beach house.” His words made her smile, and he grinned back. An unfamiliar sensation of tightness filled his chest, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just different. “And as soon as I dispose of this,” he said, lifting the used condom off the ground, “I’ll take you to my place and give you the tour. We can shower and get this sand out of all the places where one should not have sand.”
“Okay.” A flush covered her cheeks.
He couldn’t help but grin. She was embarrassed now. He winked and kissed her on the forehead.
Glancing around, he saw that the only garbage can was about half a mile up toward the strip of houses and resorts. As he jogged over to them, he had the strangest feeling that he shouldn’t have left her alone. It was dark after all.
He picked up the pace and tossed the condom in the trash from a foot away. A group of teenagers giggling and whispering passed in front of him. He could smell the joint they were handing around. Ah, to be young.
After they passed, he walked briskly back to the woman whose name he was about to demand. He wished he had his cell phone so he call Keaton and tell him to get everyone out of his house pronto. He’d handle that once he got back to his place though. His fantasies of taking her slow and deep in the shower were running rampant. But when he returned to the spot where he’d left her, they died a screaming death.
He looked in every possible direction. Checked the sand for telltale footprints. There were too many to pick out one particular path.
Lowering himself into the position that mirrored the one she’d been in, he let his head drop to his hands. He’d done everything wrong. She was beautiful. Perfect. Wounded. And she’d wanted him. Needed him. He should’ve refused to give in until she had at least told him her name. Should’ve begged and pleaded until she’d come back to his beach house, where they could talk about whatever the hell had her so upset.
It didn’t even matter now. She was gone.
W hat did I just do?
It couldn’t be undone. There was no going back. The finality of it slammed down onto her hard and fast.
Each time the ocean receded from the shoreline, she felt like it was pulling her along with it. The sand was literally falling away from beneath her. Her heart pounded, rushing a flood of blood to her ears.
She wasn’t this woman—this impulsively reckless woman who got fucked by a stranger on the beach in the dark. What had he said about his beach house? And other people?
How would he introduce her? As the woman who’d just given him her virginity without offering her name or asking for his?
This is shock. I’m going into shock.
She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of here.
Standing shakily, she began to distance herself from the ocean she’d almost walked into. A group of what sounded like teenagers passed behind her, laughing softly and talking about the party they were heading to. She maneuvered around them and practically ran the few feet to the closest beach house—a dark-blue, well weathered, clapboard two-story with a detached garage. She stole around the edge of the garage and peeked back to where she’d last seen her sexy stranger. With each step, she expected to hear a man yell out for her, but what could he yell?
He didn’t know her name.
I have nowhere to go.
It was the only thought permeating the haze of shock that still clouded her mind the next morning. She’d waited until her she was fairly certain her sexy stranger had made his way back to his beach house before walking back to The Atlantica sans shoes.
The place had been practically deserted. The decorations were gone. The wedding was officially off.
A student from a local
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