Page 12 of Restored Dreams

Surfer girl

[Brut]

Dammit. I lost her. Something in what I said pulled her away from me for a moment, her cheerful expression pinching in pain. Saying her name, I hoped to draw her back to me. The breeze blows, and as her hair slips loose, she twists her head to free it from her face. When she returns to my direction, she grins, noting she’s returned from wherever she went in her head.

We walk forward a step or two, and then I notice I’m still holding her hand. Her fingers are delicate yet warm, and I like the way they curl with mine. We fit, Lily and I, and I’ve missed her. The thought reminds me I’m moving too fast. The orgasm last night. Holding hands now. I don’t want to let go, but it seems like too much. We need to talk.

“So, about las—”

“Was a mistake,” she interjects, cutting off my start. I stop walking.

“I wouldn’t say that,” I offer, scratching at the back of my neck. My face pinches at the directness of her rejection.

Was I startled by what happened? Absolutely.

Was I surprised she got off so fast? Definitely.

Would I take it back? Not a fucking chance in hell.

“I don’t know what happened.” She lowers her head, aiming her eyes for her feet. I glance down to see her toes digging in the wet sand. Cupping her chin, I force her face upward. I don’t like her looking away from me

“I do,” I say, my grin growing, hoping to tease the tension away. Lily closes her eyes, again trying to cut herself off from me. I gently tighten my grip on her chin. “I liked it, Lily pad.”

The comment reminds me of one of our firsts together. Her mouth on me, sucking me dry despite her inexperience. Presently, her face pinks deeper than the sunshine heat on her skin.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she offers, eyes still shut, her voice soft. I don’t want her to be, and I’m about to say as much when her eyes snap open.

“It won’t happen again,” she says with finality in her tone and a head nod for added emphasis. My mouth falls open, ready to tell her how much I want it to happen again when she adds, “I think I’d like to learn to surf.”

Any man knows a change of subject from a woman means the conversation is dead, and most men might see this is as a godsend, but I don’t want Lily thinking our moment on the sand was a mistake. I refuse to see it as anything other than a sign she is still attracted to me in some way, and God knows I’m attracted to her. But I won’t force her.

I tell myself to stop touching her, only I cannot seem to pull back my hand. I’m no longer cupping her chin but stroking the side of her face. My fingers feel a magnetic pull to her, always reaching for her and wanting to touch her in some manner. Brush her hair behind her ear. Cup her chin in my palm. Stroke down her neck. Her skin is so soft, and she smells so good. Tropical. Fruity. New. I want more of her. I want her under me again. I want a second chance.

There’s a million reasons why I can’t have one, why I shouldn’t even consider asking for one. Forefront in my mind has been the Brad guy and all she laid on me last night. I’d like to bury him alive for what he did to her, and without needing more details, I need to know she’s really healed from all that happened to her. Thoughts of Brad remind me I will not force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Being with me again is obviously something she sees as not happening.

“So, you want to surf?” I swallow down the rejection I feel and the questions I want to ask and allow her this moment to distract us.

“I’d like to learn, yes.” Her lips twist as she squints in the direction of the surfers bouncing on the waves.

“I guess we could find you an instructor…” I hesitate. “Or I could teach you?” The offer simply spills out, and for a moment, I think this is a great idea. Then I pause. This is a horrible idea. This means more of Lily on display. I’m already having a hard enough time keeping my hands off her. Speaking of hard, her bikini from yesterday nearly killed me on the beach. All that exposed skin. A news report would read:“Death by heart attack from the sight of a beautiful woman skimpily clad.” I don’t trust myself.

“You would do that?” Her question laced with cheerful hope catches me off guard. I’d do anything for you, Lily pad, I want to reply but clench my teeth to hold back the confession.

“Of course.” The terse answer sounds strained, and her face flinches, but I haven’t removed my hand from her face. A fingertip strokes down her cheek to her lips, tracing over the curve of the bottom one. “I’d like to teach you.”

“I’m ready to learn,” she replies, her voice lowering, adding fuel to the heat already burning inside me.

When I first met Lily, she was so innocent. I obviously didn’t know all the other stuff, but without knowing herself, she was sultry, sexy, and completely unaware of the temptation of her body. She sauntered into our garage one day, and I was a goner. Instant attraction combined with her eagerness, and that was it for me. Close the book.

“Then I’ll instruct.” My voice croaks, rusty, and rough. There is so much I’d love to teach her now and so much I’d like to learn from her. Her playful grin reminds me surfing is on the docket—not the sexual fantasies building in my mind. Though surfing with Lily is going to add to the bank of self-pleasuring images.

+ + +

“Fuck,” I groan. I’ve shown Lily how to paddle out on the board and then rest until the timing feels right. We are in a little inlet, a bay of sorts, where the waves aren’t as rugged as the outer ocean but perfect for learning to surf. With Lily’s athletic build, she’s agile, just as I sensed she would be. She hops up easily. Knees bent. Body shifted forward. Arms outstretched. She surfs.

She’s a natural, and I love the sound of her squeals as she becomes more confident with each attempt.

Until she falls off.