I raise my knees as he grinds his hips slowly against me. His mouth finds mine and he sucks on my tongue. I grab his tight ass, feeling the muscles contract and relax as he finds his rhythm with pushing into me. It’s the kind of connection that is so electrifying that I’m almost instantly on the verge of coming, but yet, I want it to go on and on. I want to feel the weight of his body on mine and the hardness of him as he masterfully works his way in and out of me.
When I press my toes against the mattress, I get just the right leverage in pushing back against him, just the right pressure on my clit. My breathing quickens as my orgasm builds. I pull away from his kiss and bite his earlobe.
“Yes,” I whisper, “just like that. Don’t stop.”
He keeps going and I can hear in his breath that he’s getting closer too. But all in a rush, I come first, squeezing my legs around his waist as he continues to pump deep in me. I cry out in pleasure, unable to stop smiling as he then does the same. Not quite simultaneous orgasms, but so close.
* * *
When I wake, the first thing I register is Ford’s arm heavy against my waist. His warm body is pressed to mine from behind, his breathing steady and deep as he sleeps.
We’d lingered in bed after making love, content to hold each other for a long while before rousing ourselves for a quick shower and then a late-night dinner of room service while wearing the hotel robes. Afterward, we’d cuddled on the sofa, trading control over Spotify as we shared with each othe the music we each love. He’s definitely got that laid-back surfer thing going with his bands, too, as he’s partial to Mumford & Sons, Bon Iver, Florence + the Machine, The Lumineers, Lord Huron, and X Ambassadors. I like all those bands, too, but to broaden his horizons, I introduced him to my favorite band from Mexico, Zoé. After that, I selected songs by La Ley, a Chilean band, then Spanish artist Ana Torroja, and finally Juanes, a Columbian group. At some point, I fell asleep, curled up against his chest. He later got us both to bed.
But I didn’t end up sleeping well, my mind preoccupied with the way we had made love. Like real, tender love. It was both satisfying and unsettling. Unsettling because I’m not supposed to feel this connected to him. He’s supposed to be my vacation fling.
Finally, I got up just before five in the morning, pulled on a robe and went out onto the balcony. The sky was starting to turn a paler shade of blue and I could hear birds making their morning sounds. I was staring at the ocean in the near distance when Ford came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso as he leaned down and kissed the side of my neck.
Neither of us said anything as he then untied my robe and slipped it off my body. A quick glance assured me no one else was out on their balcony this early in the morning. As a still cool morning breeze rushed over my exposed body, I shivered. But I didn’t make any move to cover up or stop him from squeezing my breasts and pushing his hardness against me. Instead, I pushed my ass right back into him and then braced my hands on the iron railing while he tore open a condom packet. He took me like that, standing out in the open, each of us stifling our moans, even when he finally made good on the promise he’d made in his truck and fucked me so hard that my legs shook.
Afterward, he pulled me back to bed and I fell asleep quickly.
I’ve made up for the time I lay awake during the night apparently because it’s now ten thirty. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late. I’ve spent so many years sacrificing sleep in favor of studying and working that I’ve trained myself to survive on five hours a night. Now, I take a deep breath and release it, feeling refreshed.
Ford stirs and pulls me closer to him.
“Good morning, honey,” he murmurs into my hair.
Turning to face him, I tuck my head under his chin and take comfort in the way we naturally fit together.
“You okay?” he asks, stroking back my hair.
I’m not. I’m feeling oddly emotional with the thought that I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I don’t want this to end.
But I can’t say that.
“Yeah, just waking up,” I say, but I don’t dare look at him.
“Let’s go grab breakfast from your fancy buffet,” he says. “Then it’s time to get you in the water.”
We had made plans last night to do as he had suggested before to get us both on a longboard so he can help me ride a wave. I’d forgotten that we still have this time. He doesn’t have to go to work. We have all day and one more night.
Looking up at him, I smile and smooth back his bedhead. “I can’t wait,” I tell him.
* * *
We’re sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant overlooking the spectacular view of the deep blue ocean just beyond dozens of elegant palm trees, our plates overloaded with omelets made to order, bacon, breakfast potatoes, rustic sourdough bread so fresh it melts in your mouth, and local fruit. We’re eating slowly and watching each other with knowing small smiles. It feels like we both have visions of our time together running through our minds, including that first night at his place, in his truck, and on the balcony.
God, he makes me feel giddy.
“Gotta say,” he starts, “that was the best sunrise I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, is that why you got up at that hour, condom at the ready?”
He laughs. “I got up to see where you’d gone, honey. And when I found you on the balcony, the sunlight that was barely coming up gave me a perfect view of the outline of your gorgeous body through your robe. That quickly gave … rise to other ideas.”
That sends a shiver of desire through me but before I can respond otherwise, my cell phone buzzes with an incoming call and we both look at it.
It’s sitting face-up on the table and Bryce’s photo glows on the screen. It’s the photo I had put there over a year ago, the professional portrait his law firm had arranged for marketing and press release purposes. He looks stiff in his Windsor-knotted blue and gold tie, starched pale-blue dress shirt, and navy suit. But he also looks handsome and intelligent. The truth is, by outward appearances, he’s a catch. He just wasn’t the one for me.
“You need to get that?” Ford asks.
“Um, no.” I press the button on the side of the phone to send it to voicemail. “So—” I stop when my phone rings once more. Bryce again.
Ford squints at me in that way of his. “Go ahead. It’s okay.”
The back-to-back calls actually concerns me and so I answer, wondering if there’s an issue with the case I need to deal with.
“Hello?” I say softly, turning in my seat so my profile is to Ford.
“Hey, there you are. I’ve been hoping to run into you, but you’ve disappeared,” Bryce says.
“Um, I’m not sure what you mean?”
“You haven’t answered my emails.”
“Oh. I’m just behind, I guess. I’ll catch up to them in a few days.”
“When can I see you?”
“Why would you want that?” I ask cautiously as if Ford would care that I’m talking to my ex-boyfriend.
“You want me to say it? I will. I miss seeing you, Ava.”
I furrow my brow at this, confused by his sudden desire to see me. We haven’t spoken about “us” since Christmas, almost four months ago. And we haven’t seen each other since he bested me in that deposition. I can’t imagine why he’s claiming he misses me now. Unless something is going on with the case. My gut tells me he’s trying to manipulate something out of me to gain a legal advantage. The bastard.
“Listen, I’m out of pocket. I don’t have anything in front of me, but I really think I should review all matters before we talk again. I don’t want this to turn into a conflict of interest.”
“There’s my girl,” he says with a laugh. “You always come to it.” He sighs. “All right. I’ll see you at the ABA event, anyway, won’t I?”
He’s talking about an American Bar Association event I know is on my calendar but it’s something I haven’t thought about since before I got to Maui.
“I
don’t know about that,” I say.
“Yeah, right. There’s nothing that would stop you from a nice dose of networking and we both know it. See you in the bar line, maybe?”
“Goodbye, Bryce.” I disconnect the call and slowly turn back to face Ford, though I don’t meet his eyes. I can feel him watching me, waiting for some kind of explanation.
“Real-world stuff?” he finally asks.
“Yeah.”
“Work or personal?” He pauses. “Or both?”
I take a sip of my orange juice, taking my time. “Used to be personal. Now it’s just work,” I admit.
He nods. “The guy who has no idea what you want?”
“That’d be him.” I try to make my voice light, dismissive.
“His loss, Ava. Truly.”
I meet his eyes and see such warmth and kindness there. He’s really unlike anyone I’ve ever met.
And there I go again, feeling way too many feelings with this guy. I blink away the emotion and stare down at my plate, focusing on the scoop of fresh mango I had taken from the buffet. I spear one piece with my fork and hold it up, watching a tiny trickle of juice run free.
“Es un mango,” I say softly, amusing myself with the recollection of what I had thought when I first saw him.
“Si, y eres tan dulce y deliciosa,” he replies, telling me I am just as sweet and delicious as a mango.
My mouth falls open in shock. “You speak Spanish?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got a very rudimentary vocabulary.”
Now I’m compelled to tell him the same thing he said that first night were together on the beach, “Where did you come from?”
Squinting at me ever so slightly, he smiles and shakes his head a little. “All I know is I’m right where I want to be.”
My mouth drops open and then I laugh out of sheer delight. He has a phenomenal way of making me feel like I am something special.
And then he leans forward and takes the piece of mango into his mouth from the fork I’m still holding up. As he slowly savors it, he watches me with unmasked desire and I feel the same for him all over again. That, along with the realization once more that there isn’t enough time left.
13
Ford
“Ford!”
Well, she finally did it. She screamed my name.
But not because I’m giving her a mind-blowing orgasm. No, she’s screaming my name because she’s overcome by the utter freedom and joy that comes with riding her first wave. I’m behind her on the longboard, helping balance the board while she soaks it all in. She’s wide-eyed, a huge smile plastered on her face. The wave dies out and she turns to me, nearly toppling us both off into the water.
I grab her waist and manage to keep us up.
“Again, again, again!” she says with the unbridled excitement of a child.
Laughing, I kiss her quickly before pulling her down so I can paddle us out into position again.
There’s nothing like that first wave. I had told Ava that it would be unreal to her. But she didn’t really know what to expect. Seeing her experience that sensation of, for a very brief time, being one with the water was incredible. Sharing the gift of surfing is the best thing you can do. It opens up a connection that is hard to describe. Only once you’ve been in the water this way can you understand what it is. There is no other world when you’re surfing. There are no worries about your job, bills, or other life demands. There is only the water. And when you’re in it, it’s all you need. It fulfills everything you feel you could ever want. Coming out of it is the hardest thing to do.
I can’t believe how many years I sacrificed away from this kind of peace. It’s why I now get up early, even with a hangover, to get in some waves every chance I can. I’ll never stop wanting to make up for that lost time.
And now I’ve got Ava feeling a sliver of this sensation, too. It’s amazing to share this with her, to know that she gets it.
We manage to catch a dozen more small waves, and with each one, Ava is just as thrilled by the ride. Her energy is contagious, making me smile just as broadly as she does.
When we take a rest during a long lull in waves, I lie flat on my back on the board and she climbs on top of me, fitting her body along mine. We kiss as the board moves gently with the ebb and flow of the water. When she rests her head on my chest, I wrap my arms around her in complete contentment. Connected this way and with the water beneath us, I don’t think there’s a more perfect feeling in the world.
* * *
It isn’t until we’re back on the sand, drying off, that I think again of that phone call she had. She had suddenly snapped into corporate lingo that sounded very familiar. It made me wonder if she was a lawyer. But she’s already told me she isn’t. Still, it was a reminder that she’ll be heading home. And her home includes the kind of working life I’m determined to keep my distance from.
“What do you want to do with the rest of your last day?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the tinge of sadness I feel. This thing with her hit me so unexpectedly, so fiercely, that I don’t know how to manage the sense of loss I feel with knowing she’s leaving tomorrow.
“Ooh, is it my pick?” she asks with a laugh.
“Yeah, you choose. I’ll spring for a fancy dinner if you want.”
“Hmm, tempting. But I think what I really want is more of what we already had.”
“Hot sex?” I ask hopefully.
She smirks. “Yes, that. But also, I want to go back to Makai’s. And I want to hear you play guitar.”
“Cheap date,” I say approvingly and she playfully slaps my arm. I grab her and pull her to me so she’s sitting between my legs, her back to my chest. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her and kiss her temple. “Perfect date,” I amend.
This time, she relaxes and looks back and up at me for a kiss, which I gladly give her.
* * *
Our time plays out as Ava requested and we have a blast with each other. She’s fun and witty and such a pleasure to be with. I’m so tempted to tell her I’ll be in LA soon, to tell her we should get together there. But that would turn this carefree night into something different. It would mean we’d get into what that real world looks like. What she and I have right now is pure. It’s simple. We’d lose all the easiness we have in this moment. Why mess with this perfection? I do, however, have thoughts of tracking her down in LA once I’ve dealt with my business there. I need to focus on that first before I can give her the attention she deserves.
On this last night, we indulge in another bottle of “our” tequila at Makai’s, snatching it on our way out the door so we can drink it while sitting on the cold sand down by the water.
“Tell me something,” she says, leaning her shoulder in a way that tells me she’s tipsy.
“What’s that, Hula Girl?”
“Is that place of yours legal?”
I follow her eyes to my partially hidden beach shack. “No, not exactly. Make you feel like an outlaw?”
She sputters out a laugh.
“You tell me something,” I say and nudge her back.
“Okay.”
“When are you going to actually do a hula dance for me?”
“Oh!” she says excitedly and struggles to her feet. “Yes, let me see if I can figure this out.”
“Just pretend you’re trying to get a signal on your phone.”
“Ha-ha,” she says with a smirk. “Okay. Don’t laugh.”
“I won’t.”
She stamps her foot in the sand when she sees my smile. “I mean it!”
“I won’t, I promise. I’ll probably be dealing with a raging hard-on, not laughing, anyway.”
“Ford,” she says.
It’s meant to be an admonishment, but it comes out slow and sexy. God, I love the way she says my name.
“Go ahead.”
For some reason, she clears her throat. It’s not as if she’s about to sing, but I guess this helps her re-set. Raising her arms an
d angling her hands and fingers delicately, she starts to sway. Her hips move from one side to the other in tandem with her arm movements. It’s not even close to the real thing, but damn if it isn’t the sexiest dance I’ve ever seen.
I watch her appreciatively for another thirty seconds before she drops her arms and laughs.
“Ta-da,” she declares with a curtsey.
Getting up, I join her at the shoreline, pulling her into my arms. “That was fucking amazing,” I tell her.
“I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
I cup her face in my hands and look down at her. “I like you. I like you so much.”
Her eyes sparkle as she touches one of my hands. “I like you, too.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“Hot sex?”
That’s the obvious answer. The not so obvious answer I was looking for has to do with what we’re going to do once she goes home. But I know why she didn’t go there. On the surface of things, there’s no way we can survive outside the little bubble of her vacation. I’m committed to rebuilding my life here in Maui and she’s obviously got her life waiting for her in Los Angeles. There’s no choice but to just go our separate ways.
Unless ….
Unless I can see her again in LA But again, I don’t want to get into that right now. Right now is about living in the moment.
“Definitely hot sex,” I say, nodding so emphatically that she laughs. “But first, how about a little nighttime swim?”
She looks dubiously at the dark water. “I didn’t bring my bathing suit.”
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