Waves of Romance: Contemporary Romance (Holidays Beach Read Book 2)

by Lori Ann Mitchell

  The waves lulled them closer to each other, and Derek was unable to hide from her gentle, knowing gaze.

  “I stayed at a friend’s,” he said, noncommittally.

  “Good for you,” she said, turning her head gently.

  “I’m sorry, Sage,” he said, shaking his head. “I… I should have listened to you.”

  She sighed, peering back at him with a gentle, almost forgiving smile. “You have to listen to your heart, Derek. That’s how you learn.”

  “Yeah, well, I was listening to everything but my heart.”

  “Guys do that,” she chuckled.

  “Not me, usually,” he said. “At least, not since I met you.”

  She chuckled. “Wow, you’re really philosophical this morning. Or is that just the ‘morning after regret’ talking?”

  “Probably a little bit of both,” he said, before realizing it was something else entirely. “Actually, Sage, I’m just… really glad to see you.”

  Another laugh, causing little wrinkles around her gentle eyes. “Why?” she asked, splashing him playfully with water. “I broke up with you, remember?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “But you were just being stupid, right? Hectic? Rash? Like I was yesterday when I gave in to Colby’s, uh… charms?”

  “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” she asked.

  He splashed her back. “Seriously, Sage. This… this is silly. I’m sorry, I screwed up, now… take me back.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she laughed, joylessly. “Derek, you flirted with another woman – make that ‘girl’ – right in front of me, and my customers and friends. Then, the day after I dumped you, you hopped into bed with—” She wagged a finger, wet and dripping from the sea, when he opened his mouth to protest. “And don’t tell me you didn’t. You both practically dripped sex in those stupid pictures she posted on Facebook. And now, the morning after, you want me to take you back? Did you have a double helping of stupid for breakfast?”

  “Well, when you put it like that,” Derek mumbled, hanging his head. “I just… I miss you. I was stupid. I fucked up, so… what now?”

  Sage shrugged, and bent to her board. “Now we do what we do best,” she said, paddling gently away. “We surf!”

  Chapter 8:

  Sage

  Colby saw him first, and stood, preening like a peacock. Derek ignored her, striding past the World History display she was building in the front window and approaching Sage, a fresh bouquet in his hands.

  She chuckled, nodding to the two he’d left outside Sequels’ front door for her that morning. “Derek, these are sweet, but… I’m allergic.”

  “I’m not,” Colby chirped, waving a hand.

  “Fine,” Derek said, turning on his heel and approaching the door. “I’m sure there is some homeless woman out here who isn’t allergic.”

  Colby caught up to him, leaning in the half-open, half-closed door as Derek paused. “What the hell?” she snapped, inching through the door as it shut behind her.

  Sage didn’t have to strain to hear their conversation. “Why are you ignoring me?” Colby bellowed, waving her hands as her blond hair flapped in the ocean breeze.

  “I’m not,” Derek said, his face – and emotions – flat. “I’m just not falling for your bullshit anymore, that’s all.”

  “What bullshit?” Colby huffed.

  “That bullshit you pulled on Facebook the other day,” he said, calmly. “You said those pictures were private, Colby, but you posted them anyway, even when I asked you not to.”

  “They were private,” she said. “Is it my fault I forgot to switch my social media settings?”

  “Oh bullshit,” Derek replied, Sage watching surreptitiously over her coffee mug. “You knew Sage would see those, somehow. You did it on purpose.”

  “What kind of a girl do you think I am?” Colby asked, sounding affronted.

  “The kind of girl who would brag about breaking up a really great relationship just because she could.”

  “If it was such a great relationship, Derek, then why won’t Sage take you back?”

  “I dunno,” Derek huffed, pacing slightly in front of the store where they still stood. “Cuz I’m a dick, I guess.”

  “That you are,” Colby spat back and, for once, she and Sage finally agreed on something!

  “Yeah, so…” Derek sputtered, waving his big hands. “I’m a dick, great, we’re all in agreement so now you can stop chasing me and ruining my life!”

  With that he turned, tossing the flowers in a nearby garbage can before huffing back to his cottage in the next block. Colby paced, back and forth in front of the store, for longer than acceptable.

  Sage sighed, feeling right in her gut as she walked over and opened the door. “Break time’s over,” she said, steel in her voice. Hey, it wasn’t the first time she’d fired a bitch!

  “What break?” Colby huffed, turning on her with flared nostrils and wide, blue eyes. “It’s not my break time.”

  “Then why are you out here instead of in the store?”

  “You know why,” Colby said, huffing past her to pace some more inside. “I’m out there dealing with your crazy ex.”

  Sage stiffened, her own nostrils flaring. “Watch who you’re calling crazy, Colby.”

  Colby chuckled, a sound like knives piercing leather. “Oh, now you’re sticking up for him?”

  “That’s what friends do, Colby,” Sage reminded her. “You’d know that if you had any.”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to, lady?” Colby huffed, standing taller and puffing out her already considerable chest.

  “This ‘lady’ is talking to an employee,” Sage reminded her. “Or, better yet, an ex-employee. You’re fired.”

  “Please,” Colby smirked, stomping past Sage to grab her trendy purse from behind the bakery counter. “Why, because I took your man?”

  “If you could take him, Colby, then he wasn’t ‘mine.’ That’s why I let him go. And no, since you asked, it’s because you called in sick while you were in the poolside taking selfies of yourself and ‘my man.’ So if you’d care to dispute it, I’d be glad to pull up those time stamps for you.”

  “Don’t bother,” Colby said, reaching for the door. “I wouldn’t come back to this ratty ass bookstore if you paid me to.”

  “Well, actually I do pay you—” Sage said, but Colby was already gone, the clomping of her expensive heels drowned out by the slamming door.

  Sage sighed, collapsing against the bakery counter. She was exhausted. The adrenaline she’d used to confront Colby draining from her body and leaving her limp like a half-empty sack of rice. She spied the clock over the cash register and nodded, grabbing her keys. There was only ten minutes left until closing time, and she was exhausted.

  She tidied up quickly, knowing that without her ex-assistant manager, she’d be opening by herself the next morning and for the rest of her mornings until she replaced her with an actual employee. Still, it felt good to be done and over with.

  Sage hated confrontation, hated drama, hated the petty woman-versus-girl thing that made reality TV so popular but sometimes, a bitch just had to be a bitch. Still, it left her gutted and she walked from the store on leaden feet, chin down, all the way up the stairs to her apartment.

  “It’s chocolate,” Derek said when she was halfway up.

  She sighed and peered at him, sitting on her front stoop. “What?” she asked, though despite all he’d put her through, she found it impossible to stay mad at him. “What’s chocolate?”

  “The rose,” he said, waving a single rose at her as she approached. “It’s chocolate, since you’re allergic to real ones.”

  “Derek, that’s sweet of you, but… you’ll forgive me if I don’t do cartwheels at the moment.” She squeezed past him and opened her door, standing half-in, half-out. “Well?” she asked, playfully. “Are you coming in or what?”

  “Really?” he asked, standing and quickly zipping inside, as if she mig
ht change her mind.

  “I need to vent to somebody,” she said. “Might as well be the guy who caused all my troubles.”

  “I can’t say I’m sorry anymore,” Derek said, sitting at her counter as she opened a bottle of wine. Gently, he rested the chocolate rose beside her purse and keys.

  “I’m not asking you to,” she said, pouring them both a glass of her favorite red.

  “No beer?” he asked, vaguely disappointed.

  “Red wine goes better with chocolate,” she said.

  “So you’ll accept it?” he asked.

  “If you’ll share it with me.”

  “Deal,” he said, unwrapping it quickly. “I forgot to eat again.”

  “Jesus, Derek,” she harrumphed ignoring the rose and whipping up a quick cheese and cracker plate, which he promptly devoured. “How does one ‘forget to eat’?”

  “I was upset,” he said, and the look in his eyes – hurt and beseeching – made the words sound sincere.

  “How do you think I felt, asshole?” she teased him, sampling a little of the rose-shaped chocolate and finding it cheap, sweet and delicious. She followed it with the dry white wine and rolled her eyes with delight. If only he hadn’t eaten the other half.

  “Upset, too,” he said, literally. “And I’d apologize, again, but I can’t do that, remember?”

  “I remember,” she said, pointing to the front stoop. “From a few seconds ago, remember?”

  “You remember what I asked earlier today?” he asked, leaning back in the barstool across from her.

  “I’m wiped out,” she confessed, walking to the couch and finding that he’d turned his barstool around to face her. “Remind me?”

  “I asked what next?” he said, hopefully.

  “You tell me,” she teased him, not wanting to let him off quite that easily.

  “Well,” he said, sliding off his barstool and walking toward her. “How about I bring you a chocolate rose every day until you forgive me?”

  She shook her head as he sank into the buttery love seat next to the couch. “How about you just don’t act like an asshole every time some blond bimbo shakes her jugs at you, Derek? How about that?”

  He sat back a little, eyes wide. “I could do that,” he said. “I’m already doing that.”

  She shook her head, loosening the pretty maroon scarf she’d worn that night to compliment her new grey blouse. “Derek, I’m not the bad guy here, okay? I don’t want to do this every few weeks, with you screwing up, and me breaking up, and then you apologizing and—”

  “Look,” he said, a little steel to his voice as he sat up in the chair, literally on the edge of his seat. “I screwed up, I get it. I apologize, I get it. I fell for all that blond bimbo shit, hook, line and sinker. I can’t take it back, but I’m here, tonight, and I think there’s a reason for that.”

  She nodded, face downturned to hide her sly, sexy smirk. “I mean, you let me in, right?” he prodded.

  “Maybe I was curious,” she said, turning her face to admire him more fully. He was in one of his favorite striped tank tops, brown with blue strips, hugging his lean frame, paired with chocolate brown cargo pants and leather flip flops. His hair looked clean in the shadows that filled the darkened living room. She hadn’t had time to turn on any lights, and the only illumination came from the streetlights outside her sliding glass doors.

  He arched one eyebrow. “Curious about… what?”

  She finished her wine and set the glass down. She hadn’t eaten all day and the wine had gone, slightly, to her head. It didn’t hurt that she’d been lonely this past week, missing Derek in and out of her bed. As she sat, curled up on the couch, the warm glow of anticipation – and desire – began to grow in her empty belly.

  “Curious about how I compare,” she said, voice low and soft to match the shadows that danced across his lean, handsome face.

  “How you compare with who? Colby?” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Trust me, there’s no comparison.”

  “Bullshit,” she croaked before a sly, dry chuckle escaped her lips. “We’re nothing alike.”

  “I didn’t say you were,” he nodded, gulping down the last of his wine before setting the glass aside and leaning even closer. “I’m saying she can’t compare to you, that’s all.”

  He seemed so earnest, so sincere, she couldn’t help but want to test his theory. “Prove it,” she said, kicking off her work flats.

  “How?” he croaked, as if it was their first time.

  “Walk me through what you did together,” she said, chin up and panties growing moist as the idea suddenly occurred to her.

  “What?” he asked, recoiling slightly. “No… that’s gross. Why?”

  “I dunno,” she said. “I guess I’m just curious what you’re like with other girls.”

  “Well, I’m not curious how you are with other guys,” he chuckled, but the way he was looking at her half-open blouse made it clear he was at least considering the idea.

  “I haven’t been with other guys,” she said, gotcha style.

  “Fair enough, Sage, but… still.”

  “Come on,” she said. “It’ll be fun. Almost like I was there that night.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” he asked, squirming uncomfortably.

  “I don’t know,” she confessed. “I honestly don’t. I’m hurt and confused and…”

  The tears came then, hot and salty, the ones she’d been holding back all day, all night… all week. “No, no,” he said, drifting by her side and holding her close. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was make you cry,” he said, gently leaning closer to kiss away the tears. “Sage, you’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”

  “Then why did you?” she asked, pounding his chest playfully. “Why would you do that to me, with my employee no less?”

  “Jesus, Sage, I wasn’t thinking of you, or me, or Sequels or surfing or your employee, I just… wasn’t… thinking.”

  “No shit,” she said, but the fight had gone out of her. “Just like I’m not thinking now,” she said, reaching for his tank top to help him tug it off. He stopped her and said, “No, Sage. Tonight, I do all the work. I owe you.”

  “Yes,” she sighed as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into her loft-style bedroom, the windows above her bed open, and warm summer air blowing in through the fluttering white curtains. “Yes, you do.”

  He chuckled as he gently unbuttoned her blouse before tugging it just as gently off of her. He unzipped her skirt and tugged it off as well, leaving just her bra and panties on.

  “Someone’s wet,” he said, laying her back in her soft, white sheets before pulling her arms over her head. “Let’s see how wet you can get?”

  Sage whimpered at his dirty talk, something new that she found suddenly thrilling. She had missed this, the excitement, the rush of sex with Derek. Some might fault her for forgiving him too soon, but they had never felt his long, tender fingers on their skin, or his full, soft lips against their own. It was more than sex, for sure, but right now, it was sex, plain and simple – and she deserved it.

  She laid back, arms above her head, gripping the metal railing of her antique headboard. Inch by inch, Derek smothered her long, tanned body with tender, supple, and increasingly wet kisses. He paused at her breasts, deftly undoing the front clasp of her bra and tugging it away from her skin. She lay beneath him, raw and wanting, wet and whimpering, as he teased her nipples stiff between his tongue and lips.

  She panted, feeling stupid and helpless and absolutely, totally turned on. She had never wanted to forgive, never planned on forgiving him, and yet… here she was… in bed with him. She wanted to forgive every woman she’d ever judged for staying with a cad, a cheater, a sexy bad boy. Now she knew, knew what it felt like to want someone so badly you forgave their mistakes and even understood them.

  Anything just to feel their touch again and be the object – the only object – of their heart’s desire. Derek tended to her bre
asts, gently and achingly, the sounds of his licking and sucking filling the room as she felt herself moisten by degrees.

  By the time his lips drifted from each tender, swollen nipple and began to pepper her quivering belly with soft, molten kisses, she was wantonly moaning, greedily spreading her legs as he at last pressed his lips to the sodden front panel of her dripping panties.

  “Mission accomplished,” he purred, slipping a thumb under each side of her waist and dragging them off of her so slowly she literally grunted impatiently. He dropped the panties to the hardwood floor, where they landed with a wet, “thumping” sound like a dish rag that hadn’t been wrung out quite enough.

  Her musk filled the room, ripe and ribald, as Derek sank between her legs, a hand on each thigh as he nuzzled her pubic hair playfully, his lips drifting down until they caressed her winkled labia, glistening and slick as she moaned and clung to the headboard, white knuckled as the heat from his lips met the furnace between her legs.

  “Oh God,” she said as, tenderly, expertly, the tip of his tongue rasped against her throbbing bud. “Oh, oh, oh…” It came that fast, sudden and hard, a tidal wave climax that shook her, shook him, shook the bed and found her squealing with delight, an animal sound that left her hoarse and trembling.

  She had fantasized about this moment since she’d dumped him and, every night since, lying in her bed, alone, tempted to please herself but unwilling to admit defeat. Now, the pent up desire burst forth as he paused, only briefly, before placing his lips around her quivering bud to release another massive orgasm, fast on the heels of her first.

  “Je-Je-Jesus!” she gasped, spreading her legs wider as he continued to pepper rolling waves of pleasure from between them. When at last she was hoarse from squealing, drenched in sweat, her thighs sticky with her lather, she closed her thighs around his ears and said, “Please, God, no more.”

  “If you insist,” he said, sliding along her body until they were face to face. “Kiss me,” he said, lips still slick with her juices.

  “Ewwww,” she said, unconvincingly. “Gross.”

  “Trust me,” he gushed, inching closer. “It’s not gross at all…”