Fly Away with Me

by Susan Fox

  By the time she arrived at the shore, Aaron had pulled his kayak up on the beach and was waiting to guide hers into shore and help her out. She caught his arm for balance, raised herself, and then gingerly stepped out into the water. “Brrr.” The soles of her feet met a strange surface, and as she splashed ashore she studied the grayish-white particles that made up the beach. “It’s not sand.”

  “Shells, mostly. Pounded by waves.”

  The beach felt coarse underfoot but pleasantly so, like an exfoliating massage, if such a thing existed. She’d never had time to spare for massage or mani-pedis. Nor did she have much occasion to wear a bathing suit, and she felt exposed, even though her tee was long enough to cover her bikini bottom. It would be silly to put on shorts, though, because that bottom was damp.

  She freed herself from her life jacket and wandered down the beach, picking up a pebble here, a shell there, a colored bit of weathered glass. If she were back in Ottawa, she’d be busy at her desk, dressed in a suit and low-heeled pumps.

  Several battered logs littered the beach, perhaps washed up in a storm. She plunked down on one. “This is a lovely spot. The SkySongs have done well for themselves, for two former hippies.”

  Aaron walked over, carrying the waterproof bag. “They’re good people. Smart. Value-driven, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think I do. My parents are like that, and I try to be, too.”

  He pulled out a large towel and spread it on the crushed-shell sand. When he sat down on it, took off his sunglasses, and extended a hand to her, she took his hand and joined him. She tugged the damp hem of her tee down over the tops of her thighs and removed her sunglasses because the sun was behind them.

  “Tell me about your work,” he said, taking two bottles of water from the bag and handing her one. “You said you’re with a foundation that funds charities? How did you get into that?”

  She had a long, refreshing drink. “I think I told you that Mom’s a high school teacher—on sick leave this past year—and she’s a great one, really caring about the kids. Dad studied business admin and went to work for a charity that provides assistance to amputees.”

  She stretched, feeling the pull of well-used arm and shoulder muscles. “His father lost an arm in the Korean War. You should see the photos all over Dad’s office walls, of amputees enjoying life thanks to help from his organization. He’s the executive director now.”

  “Sounds like a real good guy.”

  “The best.” And he, like Eden, had had a tough year, trying to give his best to a demanding job while also dealing with Nana’s estate and helping his wife with all the cancer-related appointments and care.

  She went on. “I learned as I grew up that I, too, wanted to make a difference in the world. Law appealed to me, but I hadn’t decided what I’d do with the degree. Then, just before I was admitted to the Bar, I saw a job posting for assistant to the program counsel with the Butterworth Foundation. I researched what the Foundation did and was impressed, and I guess that came through during my interview because I got the job. I learned from the program counsel and then, when she left, I got her job.” It didn’t pay nearly as much as a law firm would, but she loved it.

  “What exactly do you do?”

  When he raised his bottle, she was very aware of his bare arm only inches from her own. Though a large part of her would rather touch than talk, he’d chosen a subject dear to her heart and she was pleased by his interest.

  “I handle contracts, liaise with the boards and staffs of funded organizations and applicants, and help with our own grant applications and fund-raising drives. We’ve funded so many worthwhile groups, Aaron. From programs to keep teens in school to ones that assist seniors in staying physically and mentally healthy and as independent as they possibly can be.” She was so excited about the various programs, she wanted to rush on and list all of them, but she didn’t want to bore him.

  “It must be hard to decide which groups to support.”

  “Very. My assistant and I work with some of the prospective applicants to help them develop strong proposals, we do in-depth analyses of those proposals, and we present our findings and recommendations to our own board. The board makes the decisions. We get more worthy applications than we can afford to fund. That’s why I get so involved in the Foundation’s own fund-raising.”

  She settled more comfortably against the log. “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but I do feel kind of guilty for being here, relaxing and enjoying a beautiful morning.”

  “You can’t save the whole world, Eden. I bet even your parents took some time off to relax.” He winked. “You and your sister had to come from somewhere.”

  She gave a surprised splutter of laughter. “I refuse to think about that.” But she couldn’t stop herself from noticing how the sunshine had turned Aaron’s eyes a deeper blue with glints of light, not unlike the ocean that lapped at the beach.

  “I got the deli to pack a picnic lunch,” he said.

  “Great idea. Thanks.”

  “But it’s not noon yet. We really shouldn’t eat until noon.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I never took you for the conventional type.”

  “I know how you like to keep to a schedule,” he teased.

  She might be slow on the uptake when it came to male-female flirtation, but she was getting a clue where this might be going. “Then how do you suggest we fill the time until noon?”

  “We could always go for a swim.” Humor glinted in his eyes.

  “I felt that water. My feet are still in shock.”

  “Okay. Rather than cold, we could try a little heat.”

  When he leaned toward her, intent clear on his face, she didn’t point out that the sun was providing more than a little heat already. Instead, she moved forward to meet him. After all, if today she would decide whether to sleep with Aaron, she needed to do her research.

  That morning, after she’d had a few posters made at the village pharmacy, Aaron had driven her to We Got It to stick one on the bulletin board. Then he’d taken her for a thorough, if unproductive, interview with an old hippie named Maury, who lived in a decades-old trailer up the side of a mountain and probably hadn’t shaved since the day he’d first tried it and discovered he didn’t like it. Then Aaron had offered kayaking with seals, to the prettiest beach she’d ever seen. Not only that but he seemed genuinely interested in her work. So far, he’d earned a lot of points in the pro column. Now, if the previous two kisses hadn’t been a fluke, fueled by wine and moonlight . . .

  They hadn’t. Or maybe the combination of ocean, seals, crushed seashells, and sunlight was an even stronger aphrodisiac. Or perhaps she had sunstroke, because as soon as their mouths fused together, her brain turned to mush. All thoughts of pro-con lists disappeared. She closed her eyes and fire burned behind the lids, vibrant shades of red and orange. Heat blazed through her, the blood in her veins molten, her body throbbing with arousal like one huge, beating heart.

  Somehow, she and Aaron had moved from sitting against the log to lying on the towel, her on her back, his body half-covering her as they kissed. The hair on his legs tickled her bare skin. Her hands were under his loose tee, caressing the smooth skin that stretched tautly over firm muscles. Through his shorts, his erection pressed insistently against her thigh.

  He tugged up her T-shirt and ran his hand over her rib cage to cup her breast through her bikini top. As he brushed his fingers over her nipple, the small bud tightened almost painfully hard against the thin fabric.

  “Take off your shirt,” he said.

  She sat up and freed her hair from its ponytail, then pulled her T-shirt over her head slowly and, she hoped, in a seductively teasing way, revealing her blue bikini. The warm sunshine felt good on her skin, skin that had rarely been exposed before. “I’m going to need sunscreen. Why don’t you apply it for me?”

  * * *

  Aaron gaped at the beautiful, pale-skinned woman who lay back down on the towel. He’d seen bi
kinis skimpier than her blue one, but she sure did look sexy, and when she’d invited him to apply sunscreen, there’d been distinct flirtation in her tone. Just what did she mean by it?

  This was Eden, the city girl who was unsure of herself in his world, yet who was finding her way. The serious woman who kept questioning whether she really wanted to be with him, the one who felt guilty for having a moment’s fun.

  The one who kissed him as if it was the one thing in the world she most wanted to do—which was exactly how he felt about kissing her.

  What was she opting in to? A little harmless sunbathing? More fondling and foreplay? Or maybe, if he was really lucky, sex on the beach with the sound of the ocean for music? Earlier, she’d said she wanted to take things slow, so he would do exactly that. There was nothing wrong with slow, particularly if the journey ended up at the right destination.

  He took her sunscreen from the waterproof bag. Before opening the tube, he tugged off his ripped-sleeve tee. He was a hiker, a runner, a kayaker. He had a good body, muscled and dark-skinned, and he was quite willing to use it to his own advantage.

  Warm sun on his bare back, the familiar scent of the ocean fresh and clean on the air, the squawk of gulls wheeling high above them. Eden’s gaze on his torso, appreciation in her eyes.

  He wondered about that ex-boyfriend of hers. Was he a fit guy, a physical one? She’d said they met in law school, so Aaron imagined someone who was more her intellectual match. But maybe not so physical, and right now he wanted Eden to get out of her mind and enjoy that healthy, lovely body of hers. He squirted sunscreen onto his hands. “This stuff doesn’t last all that long and you got splashed when we were kayaking. Best to be safe and apply it all over, even the places you sunscreened before.”

  “That makes sense.” Her voice had slid a notch deeper, warm and sultry as the sunshine.

  He started with the more neutral areas, applying lotion to her shoulders and arms and then to her legs, working upward to midthigh. Stroking her supple skin was a temptation that made him impatient for more.

  Next, he smoothed lotion onto her face with a careful touch. He worked down her neck and then her upper chest, and then he was caressing the top curves of her breasts above the cups of her bathing suit. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, taut and aroused.

  His cock was in the same state, hard with need inside his board shorts.

  She’d asked for sunscreen and that was exactly what he was giving her. For now, at least. He started again at the bottom band of her bikini top, applying lotion to her rib cage, the dip at her waist, the flare of her hips, and the flat belly above her bikini bottom, making sure not to ignore her cute navel. The woman was flawless—in a city-girl, indoorsy way. He might’ve preferred a tan and the kind of muscles built by outdoor exercise, but he already knew he and Eden were opposites in many ways. That actually made their short-term encounter even more intriguing. He could introduce her to adventures she’d never experienced before.

  Maybe even sexual ones. What had that long-term boyfriend of hers, and the men who came before, been like in the sack?

  As his lotion-slick fingers traced a line along the top band of her bikini bottom, Eden’s tummy fluttered with quick, shallow breaths. Her hips twisted a little. Pure physical desire urged him to rip off that flimsy garment, yank off his shorts, and give them both the satisfaction their bodies craved. But he wasn’t a lust-crazed kid. He could control his urges.

  He returned to her upper legs, where he’d left off around midthigh. He stroked up the outside of her legs, her hips, stopping again when he reached fabric. And then, finally, he tracked the tender skin of her inner thighs, making his touch as sensual as he could.

  She parted her legs slightly, giving him better access, and as he leaned closer he smelled something new on the ocean air: a hint of delicate feminine musk, the scent of her arousal.

  He caressed the sensitive flesh that bordered the leg band, moving from the outside into the center. She gave a soft moan and her pelvis tightened and lifted, as if she was offering herself to him, begging him for more. That was when he stopped touching her.

  Her eyes were closed, cheeks flushed, lips parted. She looked aroused and expectant. He sat down beside her, his back against the log. “Guess you’ve managed to avoid swimming. You don’t want to wash off that lotion now that I’ve gone to the work of applying it.”

  Her eyes flared open. “What?” She turned her head to stare up at him in surprise, clearly having anticipated that he’d continue seducing her. Her gaze moved from his face, down his bare torso, and her eyes widened again when she saw the erection that tented his shorts. A smug smile curved her lips. “Work? So that was work, was it? You’re saying you don’t enjoy touching me?”

  He laughed. “I’d never get away with such a bald-faced lie. I just wanted to check whether you were paying attention or if you’d fallen asleep.”

  She raised her arms and stretched, slowly and sensually, her hips shifting, her back arching, her breasts thrusting upward. She stacked her hands behind her head. “I’m not actually feeling sleepy.” She stretched again, a shimmy that rippled down through her body.

  A word popped into his head, an old-fashioned one he’d heard Marlise use: fetching. Eden looked fetching. The way he understood it, the word meant pretty and tempting. Something that made you want to go after it, the way a thrown ball compelled a dog to run and fetch it. “So what do you feel like doing, Eden? Maybe a brisk hike through the woods?”

  Her lips twitched, but she straightened them. “Hmm, that does sound invigorating. Sure, why not?” She sat up, made as if she were going to rise, and then stopped. “Or we could be lazy and stay here. Why don’t you lie down beside me and see if we can come up with any way to pass the time until lunch?”

  “I kind of liked what we were doing before. I’d like it even better now that we’re wearing fewer clothes.”

  “Hmm, I’m not sure I recall . . .” She gave a sexy grin.

  “Then I’ll have to remind you.”

  He kissed that grin right off her lips, turning it into a gasp that was raw and sexual. That gasp did him in, along with the memory of the musky scent of her arousal. They were two healthy adults, alone on a beach on a warm June day.

  From her mouth he moved to her breasts, sucking and laving her nipples through her top, and then pulling up the fabric and savoring the softness of her breasts and the pebbly hardness of her nipples. Eden clamped her hands around his head, holding him there as she arched forward to press herself against his greedy mouth. He reached behind her to undo the clasp of her top and her body jerked.

  Her hands freed his head and grabbed the front of her bikini top. “Aaron, wait. We’re outside.”

  She was just now thinking of that? “We’re alone. There’s no one else for miles. And the seals won’t care.”

  “But . . .” She glanced around. “What if someone comes?”

  “Sounds carry. A car, a boat engine, even the splash of a kayak paddle. We’ll hear them.” Although when he kissed Eden, he was pretty much oblivious to everything else. Of course for him, the idea that someone just might happen upon them only added to the thrill.

  Either she felt the same way or she bought his story about sounds carrying because she let out a long breath and then peeled off her bikini top and tossed it aside.

  Aaron took a moment to enjoy the sight of her, topless in the sunshine, flushed, with tousled hair. He slid down on the towel to palm her mound through her bikini bottom. She gasped again as he cupped her firmly, his fingers sliding between her legs. The fabric crotch was wet, the insides of her thighs warm and damp. He fondled her until she writhed and then he hooked his fingers in both sides of her single remaining garment.

  She’d asked for slow, but her body telegraphed urgency. Needing to be sure, he said, “Eden? Are you good with this?”

  “Yes! Oh yes. Please, Aaron.”

  Relieved, grateful, curious, and aroused, he drew the blue bikini bottom dow
n her hips and the long line of her legs. She had a neat patch of curly brown hair, so sexy and womanly. Her thighs pressed together in an instinctive gesture of modesty or shyness. With both hands, he gently coaxed them apart and then slipped his fingers between them to learn her most intimate secrets. He stroked the glistening, rosy folds, teased them apart, and eased two fingers deep inside as she whimpered and rubbed against him in a clear demand.

  His body was making its own demand clear, too. He let her go to pull off his shorts, take a condom from the waterproof bag, and sheathe himself. When he was ready, he turned back to her and found her wide eyes staring at him.

  “Aaron,” she breathed. “I want you so much.”

  “Not as much as I want you.” The words came out rough with need.

  He hooked his hands under her thighs and lifted her to him, then set his mouth between her legs, drinking her essence, tasting her passion. His tongue circled the tiny bud where her need centered, faster and faster, then flicked over it. When he sensed she was on the edge, he withdrew, shifted to lean over her body, and eased into her in a long, achingly slow thrust.

  She moaned as he did it, and again when he withdrew almost all the way. When he returned in a harder, faster plunge into her center, she cried out, her body clutching and spasming as she climaxed.

  It took every ounce of his self-control to hold steady, to not follow her into orgasm. But he managed it, and when her spasms slowed, he began to thrust again. In and out, changing pace, varying the angle, driving her higher again.

  She raised her legs and hooked them around his hips, meeting his thrusts. Her hands were on his back, gripping, urging him on. Their bodies twined, hers slippery with lotion. Her breath came in soft pants between swollen pink lips. His own rasped with the pure physical joy of sharing this moment with this woman.