He started scratching my scalp again, and my eyes closed in pleasure. Then they dipped to my neck, massaging my aching muscles. Heat pooled low in my belly, a wanton, heavenly sensation bursting everywhere his skin touched mine. Sage gripped the back of my neck firmly — possessive — and my toes curled.
Those fingers dragged between my shoulder blades, loosening the tight bundle of muscles that screamed at me all day long. Back and forth his fingers worked, my body moving with them, my back arching off the mat.
I opened my eyes again, and Sage looked even hungrier. It was so dark in that room, and everyone else’s eyes were closed, and I entertained a brief fantasy of fucking him right here, right now, on my mat. We’d have to stay quiet, so quiet —
Sage placed his fingers on my spot — the spot — the one just on the side of my neck. Held my gaze, trailed those fingers up to my ears. Made tiny, purposeful circles on my earlobe, then danced them back down again. To an untrained eye, Sage was giving me a head massage — but I knew he was reminding me of all the times I’d blissed out under his talented lips as he kissed that stretch of skin over and over.
My nipples were hard against my sports bra and his starved eyes flickered over them. His jaw tightened. I wanted his palms to shift down my collarbone, my chest, over my nipples —
“Begin to awaken your body with small movements,” Sage said, voice raised. There was a roughness that hadn’t been there earlier. “Stretching your arms and legs, slowly re-entering the room.”
I was awake, wide fucking awake, every nerve-ending mourning the loss of Sage’s talented fingers. I poured my body over to the side, sliding up into a cross-legged pose. Everyone’s attention was centered on the sexy yoga teacher in front of the room. Sage grinned, pressing his hands together in front of his chest.
“Thank you for allowing me the privilege of teaching you these past few days. It’s so wonderful, in the mad rush of our daily lives, to come home. I was raised on the beaches right outside this studio, and this small town contains my very best memories.” Sage’s eyes found mine. “I fell in love here. That kind of soulmate love that only happens once in life. Being here, with all of you, has reminded me of how beautiful that can be.” He cleared his throat, re-focusing on the class. “I have an abundance of gratitude for my time here with you. Remember — these ninety minutes can be your peace within the chaos. You always deserve peace. You always deserve rest. You always deserve love.”
It took a long time for the room to clear — fans were clamoring for Sage’s attention. He was so good with his students, listening intently. He showed them poses that worked for their different abilities and cheered when they shared personal triumphs. He wasn’t smarmy, or cheesy. His love for yoga radiated through every touch, every action.
And I was happy to watch him for an hour, lightly doodling on a small sketchpad I’d brought just in case inspiration struck. And by the time an exhausted-looking Sage walked barefoot to my mat, I’d drawn him five times in five different yoga poses.
“Olivia,” he grinned, sinking down next to me.
“Beautiful class, Sage McAllister,” I said. “And quite a passionate head massage.”
He blushed. “Yeah, well, you inspired me.”
“Did I?”
Sage reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I couldn’t quite read his expression.
“Are you okay? You thinking about the contract you need to sign? For the TV show?”
He shook his head, sliding his hand in mine. “I’m thinking about taking you on a date, Olivia.”
5
OLIVIA
Sage and I sat on a bench on the Boardwalk, kids and families and tourists streaming behind us in loud, chattering groups. Playa Vieja’s boardwalk was tiny, but earnest, and a place we’d frequented as high school sweethearts. We were sharing a bucket of popcorn and two cheap beers, bare feet in the cool sand.
“This is already the best date of my life,” I teased, nudging Sage’s shoulder with mine. “I’d take this overly-buttered, overly-salted popcorn that Marie sells at the candy shop over some trendy Brooklyn restaurant any day of the week.”
“That good, huh?” Sage grinned, holding a kernel between his fingers. I leaned forward, grabbed it with my teeth.
“Aw yeah,” I said. “I don’t know, Sage. Those six years in New York were perfect for what they were. I was wild and adventurous and made art and lived a little dangerously and didn’t give a fuck about anything. But for months now, all I’ve been thinking about is home. Here. I want to eat breakfast burritos at the Paradise Cafe and listen to the old surfers talk about their best waves. Spend random Tuesday nights with my parents and brothers. Sink back into a place that moves more intentionally and isn’t afraid to embrace its weirdness. That’s Playa Vieja to me. I’m ready for it now. If I could be a broke, happy artist anywhere, I’d choose here.”
“I see that for you, Liv,” he said. “I’m so incredibly happy to hear that.”
Sage was staring at the waves like he could physically stop them with his mind.
I recognized that look.
“So I guess you’ll be staying in Los Angeles then? For the show?” My words hung between us, and more than a minute passed before Sage grimaced, taking a swig of his beer.
“Olivia, can I talk to you about something?” he asked.
“Always,” I promised. “Spill the beans, McAllister.”
That got me a shadow of a smile. “I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing anymore. With yoga, or the show, or my studio. I, well…I keep thinking about my teacher training, which I started just a few months after we broke up. At this hole-in-the-wall studio in West Hollywood. Maya, my teacher, pushed me past what I thought were my physical and mental limits. She saw that same thing you did — I was restless with no direction. But suddenly I was going to yoga five days a week, training to be a teacher, and my body…settled. Does that make sense?”
“Of course,” I said, wishing I still had my sketchpad. Sage’s profile in the waning light would have made Renaissance masters weep.
“We learned that yoga was a practice for everyone, a practice for the people. Because every person in our society deserved to feel physically and mentally free. To commune with their breath, their muscles, their place in this world. Regardless of their ability, body shape, wealth or status. It’s not something you earn, it’s your right.”
“Do you believe that?” I asked.
“With my whole heart,” he said. “But then, what the fuck am I doing, Liv? I guess, the first time my studio waitlists got long I thought it was okay, even though you shouldn’t have to wait weeks to take a yoga class. Especially one that’s $50 a class.”
I whistled beneath my breath.
“I know,” he said. “It’s terrible. And then I did a private session for one celebrity, a minor movie star who’s super active on social media. I didn’t know it would create this ripple effect so quickly. Now everything feels out of control, and I’m pulled in a million different directions, and none of it feels good.”
“That’s an easy thing to get trapped in, Sage,” I said. “I talk about it with artist friends all the time. If we’d go commercial. It’s every person’s choice, and I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t considered it. Money is essential to live, but the more you have, the more you want.”
“Now I think about money all the time,” Sage continued. “And I feel strange saying this, but every time a fan comes up to me, my ego gets this reward. I don’t want to like it, but I do.”
“Ah,” I sighed, popping a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “The great Sage McAllister is human.”
“Or a fucking monster,” he said.
“No way,” I said. “It’s not that bad yet. So you moved to LA, got sucked into the celebrity scene, and made some bad choices. Who hasn’t? Every decision you’ve made, thus far, is reversible.” I brushed a curl from his forehead and our gazes met. “Tell me what you love about teaching yoga.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat, because everything he said made sense within the context of who I knew Sage to be. During our relationship — even though we were teenagers and supposed to be self-centered — Sage was kind-hearted, open-minded, always willing to help those who needed it. He just always lacked a purpose, and it seemed like Sage had finally found a passion that fit.
“I think that’s beautiful, Sage,” I finally said. “And I think you can make all of those things still happen.”
But not with a TV show, I wanted to say, but he needed to come to that conclusion, any conclusion, on his own.
“Seeing you in that yoga studio, Olivia…it was like every uneasy feeling I’d had these past few years slammed into me. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. The things that make me feel good are you and yoga. But not fancy, expensive, body-shaming yoga. A real practice for real people.”
“Interesting idea,” I said. “I bet you could create something like that in Los Angeles.”
“Or here,” he said.
Butterflies swirled in my stomach at the thought of Sage and I, back in Playa Vieja, together.
“Or…here,” I grinned.
He caught it, returning the gesture. “You’re the only person I’ve confessed these feelings to,” he said. “I have to give Rita my answer tomorrow.”
“Do you know what your decision will be?”
“I think so,” he said softly.
The sea breeze wove a complex pattern between us, and when I inhaled it was the scent of sweet nostalgia — our young love, the way we used to run recklessly into the waves of Playa Vieja without a care in the world. Head first, heart open.
I sat up on my knees, tilted Sage’s face toward mine, and brushed my lips against his. A teasing caress, nothing more.
“You make me feel good too, Sage,” I said, our breaths mingling. “You make me feel everything.” And then I slanted my lips over his and kissed my high school sweetheart for the first time in six years.
A kiss I thought would be tender was instantly wild. Sage’s fingers dove into my hair, holding me still, while his other arm yanked me against his body. His firm lips were as sure and sexy as I’d remembered. Sage used to kiss me for so long and so well I’d almost climax. It was the way his lips moved over mine, the soft vibrations of his groans, his palm, stroking down my spine to land possessively on my ass.
And then my lips parted and his tongue slid against mine. A gentle stroke, a teasing exploration, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave myself over to the passion of this moment. The feel of utter, total completion.
“There’s something I can’t stop thinking about, Liv,” Sage whispered against my skin, lips trailing over my jaw. Kissing down my neck.
“What’s that?” I sighed, moaning when his mouth landed on the spot.
“I keep thinking about the first time I was inside you,” he said, sucking my sensitive skin between his teeth. I arched against him; thread my fingers into his curls.
“Oh, yeah?” I was all nerves and electric sensation.
“Right over there on that beach,” he said, lips tracing the shell of my ear. We were making out in front of everyone on the boardwalk, and I didn’t give a good goddamn. “Right there, on that beach, I had the privilege of fucking you.”
“Yes,” I said, the memories flying back. The pain, the pinch, the sweet, heady fullness of Sage’s cock. “You made me come on my first time. That takes talent, Sage McAllister.” Sage scraped his teeth along my earlobe. I was vibrating with arousal, subtly shifting my hips against his waist.
“With some help,” he rasped. “You fingered your clit, remember? Showed me how you touched yourself while I stroked inside you. Still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Sage,” I panted, because it was too much: the erotic memories, his lips on my neck, the feel of his hard, muscled body against mine. “I have an idea. For the next part of our date.”
“And what’s that, gorgeous?” he grinned and licked his tongue into my mouth. I clutched his face, rocking my hips against him. Trailed my fingers down the rippling strength of his stomach onto the hard, thick length of his cock. He hissed in a breath, jaw tight.
“Why don’t you fuck me on this beach right now?”
6
SAGE
It was like the universe had sent Olivia Nguyen back to Playa Vieja to remind me of all that was good in life. To remind me of the values I’d once held dear.
That we all had the ability to rechart our navigation — or even tear the map in half and start completely anew.
The love of your soulmate will do that for you.
Olivia and I raced across the warm, moonlit beach, just like we had all those years ago, the night we’d lost our virginities to each other. And just like that night, my heart roared like a lion in my chest, a combination of nerves and adrenaline making me feel invincible.
“Here,” I said, dragging us behind a large outcropping of dark rocks. “No one can see us down here from the boardwalk.”
“To be honest, I don’t really care,” Olivia said, and I dragged her against me for a bruising kiss.
“You’ve become quite the depraved individual over the past six years,” I growled, nipping at her lip.
She shrugged, tried to palm my cock, but I grabbed her wrist.
“Get on that beach towel,” I said, reaching around to slap her ass. “Now.”
She smirked, dropping down, stretching out sinuously. Beckoning.
I crawled slowly up her body, ghosting my lips along her stomach, between her breasts. With one hand, I wrenched her wrists over her head, pinning them in the sand.
“I think about all of our firsts all the time,” I said, smiling against her lips. I slid my palm under her tank-top, flattening my fingers against her strong belly.
Olivia laughed softly. “We were always pretty eager to learn from each other. I’m pretty sure you and I invented sexting.”
I chuckled. “Always the dirty girl, Olivia Nguyen.” I edged my fingers under her sports bra, stroking the swell of her breasts. I swallowed a ragged groan, needing control in this vital moment between us. “Remember when you drew me on this beach and you felt this for the first time?”
I dragged the tips of my fingers over her hard nipples, and she arched up in the sand.
“I’d been fantasizing about…about second base with you for months.” She bit her lip, pushing her nipples up into my fingers. My thumb circled and circled, drawing her nipple into tight peaks. Olivia was sighing, head thrashing on the sand. But I took my time, content to stroke and tease her nipples. I captured her lips and gave her a long, bruising kiss as my fingers roamed beneath her sports bra.
“What about…this?” I rasped, pinching. Exploring.
“Oh god yes,” she said, eyes bright with lust.
“And what about…this?” I sucked her nipple through the fabric, soaking it with my tongue.
Olivia’s wrists almost came flying off the sand. I pulled her up to a sitting position so I could remove her shirt and bra, tossing them to the side. The moonlight caressed Olivia’s tan skin, dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders. I gripped her face, kissed her hungrily.
“Sage,” she panted.
And then I took her nipple between my lips and she cried out. I let out a low growl against her skin, palms moving down her bare back. Then I shoved her back to the sand and flicked my tongue over the tight peaks.
Olivia was already chanting my na
me, and I’d barely touched her. She was always like that, brazen-hot and hungry for pleasure. I sucked her nipples, pulling them between my teeth, as my fingers slid inside her yoga pants, over her underwear.
“The first time I made you come like this Olivia, I felt like a fucking god,” I hissed, finding her soaked and hotter than ever. I stayed over her underwear, teasing her clit with gentle circles. Olivia was moaning now, eyes closed and throat exposed.
“The first time you made me come I felt like I was flying,” she sighed. “That feels so good, Sage.”
I moved down the contours of her body, tasting her hipbones, the freckle near her belly-button. I slowly, slowly peeled away her final layers, until Olivia was naked on the beach in front of me.
“I didn’t know how amazing it would feel to touch you here,” I said, stroking between her folds. Hooking two fingers deep inside the tight glove of her pussy. “It wasn’t easy, finding your g-spot, and I remember trying a lot.” I smirked down at Olivia, who was smiling and writhing under my ministrations.
“Don’t be cocky,” she said, but then I landed right on that spot of nerve endings, and her back bowed entirely off the sand. She clutched my hair, pulling in for a deep, searing kiss, biting my lip as I curled my fingers inside her.
“But do you remember the first day I did this?” she said, reaching under my shorts to grip my cock.
“Fuck,” I grunted, shocked at the sensation.
She teased me, tugged me, laughing against my lips as I groaned, chanting my name as I fucked her cunt with my fingers.
“We were always so hot for each other, Liv.” I untangled her fingers from my body so I could settle between her parted legs. I kept my fingers inside her as I inhaled the warm, earthy scent of her pussy. “I’ve missed this.” I kissed her thighs, licked her delicate folds, rolled my tongue around and around her clit, just missing it.
“Oh god, the first time you licked my pussy,” Olivia said, both hands in my hair now, holding me in place. She was rocking her hips, rolling her body, desperate and needy.
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