Doing as I’m told, I gasp as I see the entire ocean laid out before me in a vast stretch of dark blue with dancing flecks of yellow from the sun.
“Wow.”
“Amazing, right?”
“It’s incredible.” Maybe it’s the kiss of salt against my skin combined with the cool water and warm sun, but I’m tingling. Or maybe it’s the man at my back. “I’ve never felt so tiny or insignificant. It’s like a different world out here, ya know?” I’m glad he can’t see my face as embarrassment overcomes me.
“That’s what I love about it. Out here there’s no judgment, no expectations. It’s just you and eighty-two million billion gallons of salt water.”
“That’s a lot of water.” I breathe deep, taking in the damp ocean air, and close my eyes. The crashing waves and cawing seagulls lull me to a place where I’m only a girl with a boy. I don’t hear the cries of my sister, don’t see her mutilated face, or feel the pain of her loss. As my legs dangle off the board, I’m free to bob with the ebb and flow of the tide. Not anchored to my promises, obligations, but completely unburdened. And for a moment, I pretend I’m who I want to be, not who I need to be.
His hand runs down my bare arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. He shuffles forward, and the heat of his chest hits my back, his strong thighs framing my smaller ones. Big hands run over my hips, around my belly, and his breath is hot on my shoulder.
Just a girl . . .
His lips trace an invisible path to my neck.
And a boy.
I drop my head back and relax into his embrace. He moans and slides his hands up to my breasts, cupping them gently before running his thumbs back and forth over my peaked nipples.
“Torture not being able to touch you.” Squeezing my breasts, he bites my shoulder as a delicious combination of sensations rack my body.
I shift my gaze left then right and find the closest people are surfers, but they’re at least fifty yards away and closer to the beach. Perfect.
Slow and carefully, I press forward and pivot around, reversing my position so that I’m now facing him. His eyes flare, and his wet hair is dark blond now as it sticks to his forehead, making his eyes appear brighter. He lifts my knees and pulls my thighs over his. I suck in a breath as his hands go to my face, tilting my head to dip in for a long deep kiss. Salt, coconut sunscreen, and mint flood my mouth in a delicious combination that has me moaning into his mouth. His grip tightens, and my head swims as his tongue lashes against mine. I hook my arms around his neck in an attempt to get closer. Our damp bodies slide easily and he groans, fisting my hair as the centers of our bodies make contact. One hand on my ass, he tugs me up and onto his hips. I wrap my legs around his waist and grind down against his hardness, searching for much-needed relief.
He rips his mouth from mine, panting. “Shit . . . I need you.”
“Shhh, babe. This time,” I whisper against his lips, “I got you.”
I slide my hand between us and unlace his board shorts, dipping my hand inside and taking him in a strong grip.
A growl rumbles in his throat and power surges through my veins.
He leans back, propping his weight against the board behind him with one hand while the other is still threaded in my wet, salty hair. He watches my hand wrapped tightly around him, stroking, and rolls his bottom lip between his teeth.
My heart races, and my legs quiver at the visual of him watching me pleasure him. How could something so seemingly innocent feel so weighted with meaning?
“Feels so good, baby.” His grip in my hair gets tighter. “Don’t stop.”
I lick my lips, wishing we were somewhere more private where I could get away with more. I quicken my pace, and his abdomen flexes. The fly of his shorts loosens more to have him almost completely exposed but hidden between our bodies.
He pushes up, and I drop back off his lap and onto the board. His hand dives between my legs, and pushing the thin fabric of my bikini aside, he buries two fingers inside me. I cry out at the intrusion, forcing my eyes to stay focused and avoid rolling back into my head as he meets every stroke with a thrust of his hand. I hold onto him with a hand gripped into his hair behind his neck, and we chase down our orgasms with a primal force that I’ve only felt around Mason.
Needing so badly to bring him pleasure with my hand while showing him how good he makes me feel is a heady mixture. Our lips crash together, hungry, uncoordinated, but beautiful in their untamed passion.
His body tenses seconds before mine implodes. Stars dance behind my eyes as I slam them shut and bite down on his lip to muffle my whimper. He pants heavily against my mouth; our chests touch with the force of each inhale.
“You okay?” He massages the spot on my scalp now warm from where he was fisting my hair.
“Yeah, I am.” I’m grinning so wide he has to hear it in my voice. “Are you?”
I sit back, as he rights my bikini bottoms and tucks himself back into his shorts.
“Baby, I’m way fucking okay.” He flashes a smile that promises a thousand kinds of dirty then grips the board and throws his weight to one side, capsizing our little love canoe.
The cool water against my heated skin refreshes me and draws me from the lazy post-orgasmic slumber. When he comes to the surface, he shakes out his hair and pulls me to him, holding to the board to keep us afloat.
His lips run along my hairline, and he inhales deep. “I probably shouldn’t have done that, but honest to God, I can’t control myself when we’re together.”
With miles of ocean at our backs and far away from the breaking waves, too distant for anyone on the beach to see what we’re doing, I can’t think of anything better to do out here than what we just did. Oh, well maybe one thing.
“I’m glad you did. I’ve been wondering how I would get through the rest of the weekend without touching you.”
He leans his forehead against mine. “Who thought bringing the kids to the beach would be a good idea again?”
I laugh and drop a quick kiss on his lips. “You did, remember?”
“Changed my mind.” He drops his eyebrows low, his voice serious. “I’m ready to take you home.”
“We are home.”
His eyes dart to the side, and a slight grimace twists his lips.
I cup his jaw. “Hey, what is it?”
He recovers immediately, as if he didn’t even realize how much his expression gave away. “Nothing.” He kisses the inside of my palm. “Now, are you ready for your surf lesson?”
Almost as if on cue, a large wave breaks just ahead of us. “Out here?”
“No. We’ll go to the baby waves closer to shore. I just brought you out here for privacy.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Smart man.”
He grips my thigh, and with one more kiss, he hoists me back up onto the board. We resume the same positions and paddle closer to shore. At one point, a large wave swells up behind us, and Mason tells me to hold on. He paddles hard and then stands up between my legs. His powerful legs work to steady us as we ride the wave in. Flat on my belly I laugh as salt water splashes my face, cooling and reviving.
“Alright, surfer girl.” Once the wave dies, he hops off the board in shallow water. “Let’s see what you got.”
My belly flutters with nerves, or maybe it’s the sweet way he called me surfer girl.
“I’m ready.” I push back to center myself on the board. He keeps it steady in the waist-deep water, and his eyes cast back toward the incoming, but manageable, waves.
The sun shimmers off his wet abs, and my lips tingle to lean in for one taste.
“When I say go, paddle hard.” His gaze stays back as if he’s reading the tide. “When you feel the board catch, you wanna pop up.”
“Pop up?”
He nods and fixes his eyes on me, the blue seeming brighter surrounded by thick dark, wet lashes. “Stay centered on the board. Keep your feet at the back, here.” He slaps the tail end. “The sweet spot. Once you feel the board catch, push up on
your hands.” He shows me by locking out his elbows in front of him. I nod. “Then push back on your knees. From all fours, bring one foot forward, but keep the other one where it is, then stand.”
Hands, knees, all fours to a lunge, stand. “Got it.”
“Always keep your feet centered and don’t forget to bend your knees.” He swings his gaze back to the incoming waves.
“Paddle, catch, pop. Okay, I can do that.” I crank my head around and follow his gaze to incoming white water. “This one?”
“No.” His triceps flex under the pressure of the wave that pummels me and the board, but his grip keeps us in place. “Okay, this next one.” He squints for a second before swinging excited eyes to mine. “Ready, surfer girl?” His lips tilt and salt water drips off the tips of his hair.
I blink and turn forward. “Ready.”
He angles the board just right. “Paddle as hard as you can. You’ll know when it catches.”
I nod, my belly flip-flopping like crazy.
“’Kay, babe, here ya go.” He shoves the board just as a swell builds behind me. “Paddle!”
My hands dig into the water, one after the other. Hard and fast, I push through the ocean until my shoulders burn.
“Shit, shit, shit, I’m gonna miss it.” I groan and throw every last bit of my strength into pushing myself ahead of the wave.
Then it happens. The board thrusts forward on its own.
“I did it!”
“Atta girl!” Mason’s voice is laced with pride. “Now pop up!”
Pop, right! I push up to my hands and knees then wobble. Stay centered. Bringing one foot forward, I pop up. The board tilts, almost tossing me off, but I regain my balance. I did it! I’m not going nearly as fast as Mason and I did on the bigger waves, but I’m still moving.
“Go, Bea!” My siblings cheer me from the beach, and I sway but manage to stay up on two feet.
“Yeah, baby!” Mason yells.
Holy shit! I’m surfing!
“Woo hoo!” My holler is mixed with my laughter as the power of the ocean propels me forward.
And for the first time since before Svetlana died, I feel free.
Twenty-three
Mason
The sun is getting lower, and our little group of ragtag beach-goers is running out of steam.
After we ate the peanut-butter sandwiches and grapes that Trix brought for everyone, I busted out my ice chest full of mini-mart snacks, including chips, candy bars, and flavored sports drinks. The kids went nuts, and for a second, I felt guilty like maybe their parents wouldn’t want them gorging on crap, but when I caught the soft look on Trix’s face while the kids gobbled up chocolate bars and cheese puffs like it was their job, I knew it was something more.
My guess is they don’t get the opportunity to indulge in shitty food while living on a budget. After watching Isaac power down four sandwiches and having been a sixteen-year-old athlete myself, I’d be willing to bet it takes every cent they have to keep him fed, and that’s only one of the six kids living at home.
I pop my shades up, squinting into the lowering sun as Isaac carves into a wave on my short board. Is there any sport this kid doesn’t dominate?
Isaac picked up on surfing the long board quickly and had asked if he could take mine out. I went with him, showing him the basics, the differences in how it moves, and gave him some pointers on a few waves.
“He’s getting really good, Mason!” Trix is lounging back on the sheet. Thankfully, her gorgeous bikini-clad body is wrapped in a sweatshirt, as Leah dozes off in her lap.
I rip my gaze away to follow the direction of her pointing finger. Isaac’s still holding his own against the sunset break. I scan the horizon for surfers, who appear like black dots, noticing it’s gotten more crowded since the sun started to set. Usually, this beach doesn’t attract the surf locals as much as some of the heavier breaks in the area. Cowell is a great place to learn to surf, but the seasoned shredders prefer a more challenging wave.
However, with some recent big open-ocean storms and El Niño, the waves at Cowell are a wild card and predictions are high.
I shake off the edginess that pricks against my skin, but maintain a visual on Isaac. Truth is, when the local surfers come out, not a single outsider is safe.
The bump of a swell rolls in from the distance, and all the little black dots paddle into position. My eyes stay fixed on Isaac. I stand up, trying to gain a better vantage point, blocking the glare with my hand.
“Mason?” Trix is up and next to me. “What is it?”
“Nothing, he’s fine.” For now.
I watch as the wave builds, and little does Isaac even realize, he’s in the optimum position, but not in the right order of the line up to catch this one.
Bottom line, this wave doesn’t belong to him.
If he catches this wave, he’s going to get his ass kicked.
The swell builds, barreling in, and I see the exact moment that he realizes where he’s at. He turns his board around, paddling in front of a group of black dots.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath.
“What?” She grabs my hand.
Isaac moves, completely unaware that he’s thrown down a challenge and is shit deep in a paddle battle. My jaw locks down and I grit my teeth. Lose, Isaac. Don’t out paddle these guys.
He hits the lip of the wave at full force. It catches, grabbing Isaac along with one other guy on his outside. Shit. I move, headed for the waterline, dread heavy in my gut.
The guy catches up to him. Fuck. He dives off his board and takes Isaac down.
Trix gasps. “That guy went after him!”
Motherfucker. “Yeah, your brother dropped in on his wave.”
Now let’s just hope the dude’s not a local.
“What does that mean?” I don’t look, but I know Trix is scanning the water just as I am, waiting for her brother to resurface.
“Isaac was in the wrong, but . . .” I squint as two black dots surface only to be surrounded by four more. “Fuck. Stay here.”
“Mason . . .” Fear and worry lace her voice.
I kiss the top of her head. “It’ll be okay; just stay with the kids.”
I run into the water, hopping small waves until it’s easier to swim. I break the surface with a dive, powering through waves with urgency. Surf conflicts escalate quickly and under no fucking circumstances will I allow Isaac to learn this lesson the hard way. I make it to the group of guys who are chest deep and bobbing in the current.
“Hey.” I barely get the word out when Isaac takes a fist to his jaw. “Fuck.”
Fights are bad enough, but fights in water while waves thrash all around are almost impossible to win. I make it to Isaac just as he’s about to swing on the guy, wrapping my arm around his chest.
“Let me go, man!” Isaac tries to kick from my hold, and I, again, give the kid credit for his strength. “That fucker hit me out of nowhere!”
“Yeah, I know.” I drag him toward shore. “Don’t worry.” I look back to see that, sure enough, they’re following us in. “It’s not over yet.”
As soon as our feet hit solid ground, the group of guys descends. Trix moves toward us, but I hold a hand up to keep her far enough back so that she can hear what’s going on, but she’s not close enough to get hit.
“Fucking, kook.” The guy shoves Isaac, who at sixteen stands eye to eye with the dude that could be twice his age. “Go back to your island, chink.”
Isaac rushes the guy. I hook him around the waist before he makes contact and toss him behind me. “Enough. He’s new to Cowell, doesn’t know the rules yet.”
“No shit, asshole. That’s what I’m here to teach him.” The guy puffs out his chest, and his crew backs him up. They’re all tense, flexed, and I know from experience they won’t walk away until Isaac bleeds.
“Listen. Give him a pass just this—”
They all burst into laughter, but quickly sober and step into my space. “Maybe you’d lik
e to take the beating for him. Break our rules; pay our fines.”
I hate to play this card, but I grew up in this area and know for a fact that it’s my only chance to save Isaac from an ass-kicking. “This ain’t your break,” I say low enough to avoid drawing attention.
A short bulky dude with a shaved head and wild eyes shoves my shoulder. “What the fuck you know about it, kook?”
A growl bubbles up from my throat, and I swear if there weren’t the eyes of little kids on me, I’d destroy this cocky fuck.
“B3 protects this break.” I know it, they know it, and even though I’m no longer an active participant in the local surf gang, these guys understand me.
They each blink, pass a guarded look to each other, and glare at me. “Whatchu know ’bout B3?”
“Emery, dude . . .” Dickhead number two whispers something that sends Emery’s eyes to my hip. He tilts his head, and his eyes widen. “No shit?”
My tattoo isn’t obvious, but anyone familiar with B3 and everyone local is more than familiar with, if not terrified of, The Brotherhood. They see the waves of the B3 emblem curling up from my hip.
They visibly tense.
“I think it’s time you guys move on, yeah?”
They flash looks to each other, trying to hide their concern or fear with the nonchalance of gangster badasses and failing. “Keep your friend safe. Guarantee if he dropped in on one of your brothers he’d never live to talk about it.”
That’s probably true.
They strut to their boards and head back into the water. With my hands propped on my hips, I feel the unexpected release of tension in my muscles. That could’ve been so much worse.
“Mason?” I turn to see Trix holding the little kids to her body while the bigger ones crowd around her.
I turn to Isaac, who looks like a ticking time bomb. His fists are clenched, jaw hard, and back rigid. “Go for a run, man. Blow it off. Letting that shit fester will do you no good, understand?”
He’s scowling at the guys who are back to being black dots on the horizon. “I could’ve taken him.”
Fighting for Forever Page 20