by Chrys Fey
She vanished from his line of vision. He kept his eyes glued to the wave, searching for her surfboard flying into the air, a sure sign she wiped out. As the wave rolled in on itself, he craned his neck. When he caught sight of Beth hunching over her board and gliding along the inside of the wave with her head inches from the cresting water, he threw his hands up. She had successfully made the drop and was riding it like a pro.
Looking toward the end of the wave, he held his breath. If she didn’t get there before the barrel closed, she’d crash into it, and a ton of water would slam into her.
His gaze snapped back to Beth. She was cruising along the length of the wave as if it were nothing. He thought she’d slip out of it unscathed, but white froth churned at the backdoor. He was helpless as the wave closed in on Beth and knocked her off her board. She fell backward, and her board rocketed into the air. The board was yanked down by the cord attached to her ankle. It bobbed up and down as water crushed her, twisted her around, and pounded her.
Donovan held his breath until her head broke the soup, the foam left from the wave. She grabbed onto her board and paddled to safety. When he finally reached her, she was panting for breath.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded and sat up. “Yeah, but damn, those waves can beat the crap out of you. Is that what they call ‘eating it’?”
He couldn’t stop himself from smirking. “Yeah. That’s what it’s called.”
“Shut up.” She splashed him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I just need to catch my breath. Let’s go to the lineup. You can have the next wave.”
They paddled back to where they had been and waited for the next set to arrive. The lull lasted several minutes before four waves rose up. Donovan stayed put while another man went for the first wave in the set. He was eyeing the third wave when a shout lifted over the roar of the passing wave.
“Hey!”
He peered over his shoulder to see a second surfer drop in on the one who had already claimed it. The two surfers collided so hard they went flying together over the wave.
Donovan winced.
“Isn’t that illegal,” Beth asked.
“Oh, yeah. Surfers don’t take it lightly when you drop in on them. Those two are probably going to end up on the beach to kick each other’s asses.”
“Really?”
He looked at her. “If someone ever dropped in on you, I’d rip ’em apart.” He turned his attention back to the oncoming waves. The second wave was close, and someone was paddling off to claim it. The third wave was behind it, and it was clean.
“I want this next one,” he said. “Don’t take off on one until I get back.”
“I won’t.”
He turned his board around, waited a heartbeat to make sure he was exactly where he wanted to be, and started to paddle. No one had been charging it when he made a move, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw another surfer a few strokes behind him, trying to catch him. He clenched his jaw as he paddled harder. No way was this snake going to steal this wave out from under him. The surfer inched closer. It was a paddle battle. Whoever could pop up first and make the drop would win the wave.
Donovan threw his arms down faster and pushed the water with his hands harder. His board surged forward, giving him enough headway. He popped to his feet and maneuvered his board to make a clean drop. The face of the wave was beautiful, and the overhead was so high he could stand straight. He easily rode the length of the tube, carving the top every now and then. At the end of the barrel, he kicked out by jumping into the air and turning his back over the wave. When he came back up, Beth cheered.
“I was about to hit that kook with my surfboard when I saw him trying to steal your wave,” she said when he rejoined her.
Donovan chuckled. “See, you’re getting the surf attitude.”
They rode two more waves each, sharing with the other surfers there, before they decided to call it a day. After they passed the breakers, they leisurely paddled back. Once the water became shallow, they stood and walked to the shore with their surfboards under their arms.
“So how did you like your first surfing experience in Hawaii?”
“I’m stoked. No wonder surfers want to surf every day. There’s nothing like it.” She glanced at him and smiled. “Well, okay, sex is up there.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
The water on the shore flowed back, making it difficult to walk as the wet sand sucked their feet into holes. Beth tilted into him as she tried to free her feet. He caught her shoulder.
“Got it?”
“Yeah. I hate it when the sand does that,” she said while shaking globs of sand off her reef shoes.
A scream made Donovan stop.
Another yell hit the air. This one a warning, “Rogue wave!”
Donovan turned to see a large wave crashing onto the shore behind them. Two things rushed into his mind. The first was a curse. The second was Beth. He was reaching for her when the wave rushed into them. He was shoved backward with the force of a stampede. Something tugged harshly against his foot. His body slammed into the ground, and his hands grabbed fistfuls of sand that dissolved in the water. When he managed to get his head above the water, he saw he had been tossed up the sand dune. The sensation of being pulled back had him flailing as he tried to get to his feet, but he couldn’t. It yanked him back down the shore and dragged him over a rock. He latched onto it and held on as water rushed around him. It rose up his neck, tugged on his arms, and pulled on his legs.
When the water lowered and drew back, he peered around. The water would be coming back, and the rock he clung to would be submerged. He shoved to his feet and leapt off the rock. Running up the shore, he yanked his feet out of the sand’s greedy hands with each stride. His eyes scanned the shore where several people were scattered around. Beach chairs had been thrown sideways, and coolers were upside down.
His gaze sprang to a spot of red and black. Beth. She was sprawled face down on the sand. Her surfboard was broken in half. The bottom half was clasped in her hands; she had rammed it into the sand to stop the wave from sucking her out to sea.
His own surf board had been ripped off the rubber string connected to his ankle.
He ran to her as another wave rushed in. When he made it to her, he ripped the Velcro off her ankle and grabbed her arm. “Hurry.” She shot to her feet, and they ran up the sand dune. It wasn’t as tall as it had been moments ago. Water splashed at their heels, but they kept on climbing. At the top, he saw the shore was flooded again. The people who had been sunbathing dashed after their possessions before they could lose them.
Beth collapsed onto the sand at his feet. “What the hell was that?”
He lowered next to her. “A rogue wave. They’re rare, but they can happen. Two or three waves in a set might’ve fused together.”
“Shit, and I thought wiping out was bad.”
Back at their suite, they assessed the damage; Donovan’s knees and hands had been scraped from the rock, and Beth had sand burn on the side of her left leg. Neither of them had serious injuries. Nothing that would deter their honeymoon.
From the edge of the bed, Beth rubbed ointment over her rash. “I take back my wish to surf every day. Maybe every other day.”
Donovan squatted in front of her and kissed her thigh. “I’m sorry.”
She frowned. “For what? You’re not Poseidon. You have no sway over the ocean and the tides.”
“No, but I’m your husband and feeling responsible comes with the territory.”
She put her hand on his face and pressed her mouth to his. “A rogue wave is out of your control, dear husband. Besides, we’re fine.” She capped the tube of ointment. “What were you thinking of doing for dinner?”
“How does going to a luau sound?”
“Fun.”
****
Flaming torches line
d the outdoor restaurant. Several low, long wooden tables overflowed with flowers and food. Beth and Donovan sat on pillows on the ground. Roasting pig scented the air, mingling with the salt of the ocean. Smoke from the pit fire drifted in a soft breeze and rose to the night sky.
The platters on the table consisted of beef, chicken, and fish wrapped in taro leaves. Chicken long rice; baked sweet potato; and poi, a starch staple of Hawaii, were also available for feasting, along with many fruits, including pineapple chunks; watermelon; and lychee, the pink and rough rind covered fruit with a delicate, almost translucent meat on the inside.
Beth and Donovan loaded their plates with nearly every food available. Each bite was like a storm of flavor. They ate until they were full, and then watched Samoan fire dancers. The dancers were shirtless with shredded green leaves around their shins and a red piece of fabric wrapped around their waists and legs like swim shorts. They danced and spun their flaming knives, making flashes of art in the darkness. When they did acrobatic stunts to the beat of the drums, Beth and Donovan cheered along with the audience.
Hula dancers in bright bikini tops took the stage next. Their grass skirts were low on their hips. Leaves adorned their ankles and wrists. Beth turned and covered Donovan’s eyes. He chuckled, and she laughed along with him. He put his arms around her, and they watched the dancers perform with Uli’Uli rattles made of gourds and red and yellow feathers. The sound of the seeds shaking inside them and the movement of the dancers’ hips was hypnotizing. Donovan couldn’t deny it. After their dance concluded, they invited audience members to join them on the stage.
Donovan brought his mouth to Beth’s ear. “You should go up there.”
She rotated around. Firelight reflected in her wide eyes. “Are you crazy?”
“No. I’ve seen you move your hips before.” He winked at her.
She fought not to smile as she twisted her lips to the side. “Fine, but you better record it on your phone, because I won’t do it again.” She rose to her feet and slipped out of her flip-flops. She wore a form-fitting, knee-length, blue and white Hawaiian dress.
As she walked away, Donovan ogled her tan legs and shapely butt. A smirk flitted over his face. Her body could mesmerize him more than a room full of hula dancers.
Beth stepped onto the stage with six other brave people, two of which were men. She was given a grass skirt to loop around her hips. Then the dancers taught her and the other participants how to bend their knees, move their feet up and down, and rotate their hips. It was a quick lesson before the music started, and they all began to hula dance.
From the table, Donovan only had eyes for Beth. She moved with a grace he’d seen her use on the blue mat in her studio, but this was more seductive. Her hips bobbed up and down with a speed that had his eyes widening in satisfaction. Across the distance, she stared right at him. He couldn’t help but feel she was luring him in. His gaze couldn’t stay on her face, though. It kept traveling down her body from her breasts to her feet, but zeroed in on her hips each time.
When the song ended, he clapped for Beth, but all his hands really wanted to do was cup her hips and feel her shake against his body.
She came back to their place at the table and slipped on her flip-flops. He looked at her feet and the pink polish on her toes. She lowered next to him. “So, how was I?”
“Breathtaking.”
She smiled and kissed him. “I hope you know I did that for you.”
“I know,” he whispered back.
In their suite, Donovan unbuttoned his black shirt with a Hawaiian pattern down one shoulder. He put it onto a hanger and set it back in the closet. The sound of Hawaiian music drifted into the room. He peered over his shoulder to see Beth standing bare foot on the carpet a few paces away. She was bouncing her hips, like how the dancers taught her, and moving her arms fluidly at her sides.
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought you said you wouldn’t do it again?”
“I lied.”
He went to her as he had wanted to before and put his hands on her hips. Her hips continued to jump. His gaze feasted on them as they moved. His mouth watered. He took a final step so their bodies molded. The tempo of her hips slowed so they rubbed sensuously up and down against him.
“You’re good at that.” He lowered the zipper at her back.
“Yeah?” She pressed into him. “How good?”
He playfully nipped her bottom lip. “You should feel how good.”
“Mm.” She didn’t stop moving her hips. “Yes, I can.”
He pushed Beth’s dress to the floor. Underneath, she had on sheer, black panties. He eased the straps of her bra off her shoulders. The flimsy fabric clung to her nipples. He tasted the soft, warm skin of her breast. The whole time, her lower body ground against him, intensifying his needs. Unable to resist any longer, he maneuvered her onto the bed where they shed the rest of their clothes and engaged in their own dance.
Chapter Ten
In the morning light, Beth and Donovan lay next to each other, sated after a night of excitement. Donovan had Beth’s right hand caught in his. His fingers were lightly locked with hers, but he kept moving them along the length of her fingers so they rubbed against her skin. The contact was sweet and intimate. They were content enough to lay in bed and just touch fingers.
“We haven’t talked about it since I proposed…” Donovan paused, but his fingers continued to slide with hers.
Beth couldn’t think of what he meant. “Haven’t talked about what?”
“Kids.”
She craned her neck to get a look at his face. His stare was so penetrating her heart skipped a beat. “Of course, I want to have kids with you. I haven’t forgotten our deal to have three.”
Donovan’s smile was quick and boyish. “At least one boy. You remember that.”
“I’ll give my ovaries the memo.”
“And I’ll have a talk with my boys.”
Beth covered her face, smothering her giggle.
“So…when do you want to start trying?”
She watched their fingers glide up and down. They both knew she was on the pill and would have to stop taking it to get pregnant. “I think it would be nice to experience our first year of married life without morning sickness,” she said, gauging his reaction. “What do you say to trying for our first baby on our one-year anniversary?”
Donovan lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “You’ve got yourself another deal.”
Beth threw back her head in laughter. “Is that how we’re going to plan our future? By making deals?”
“Why not?”
She smiled. “I guess it’ll be our thing.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Beth sat up then. She faced Donovan and crossed her legs on the bed. His gaze trailed down her body, eyeing her sheer black bra. Lower down, she wore a pair of his blue flannel boxer shorts. A slow grin filled his face. That look caused the pit of her stomach to churn and a wet heat to bloom between her legs.
She nudged him. “Hey, eyes up.”
His gaze traveled leisurely up her body. That grin was still flirting with his mouth.
She tried to ignore it. “What do you imagine for our first year as husband and wife?”
The tips of Donovan’s finger stroked the curve of her knee. “I imagine everything we already have…coming home to each other, waking up to your beautiful face, watching football games together, cooking side by side, surfing, and learning things about you that I still may not know. I also imagine much more, things I can’t anticipate, good things.”
His words made her heart soar. He might be embarrassed if she said it, but he had a great way with words. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “I like that.”
“What do you envision?”
She tilted her head back as she considered the possibilities. “Being partners in everything from home life to work life.” She paused. “Laughter, adventure, poker. Lots of poker. Going to your
monster truck competitions and losing my voice from cheering so loud.”
“In appreciation, I’ll fix you hot water with lemon and honey,” he offered.
“Thanks. Then there’s the little things like smelling your cologne every morning after you first put it on.”
He tilted his head. Curiosity shone in his eyes. “You’ve never said you like my cologne. Is that why you kiss me so passionately after I spray it? I thought it was because you liked goodbye kisses.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she bit her bottom lip. “Oh. I definitely like goodbye kisses, but the smell of your cologne combined with how sexy you look…it does it for me every time.”
The grin he wore earlier returned. “Nice to know.”
She teasingly whacked his arm. “Back to being serious…above everything else, I envision being happy. And I’m looking forward to all of our firsts as a married couple, like the first time I get to sign my new name, our first house, our first baby, and even our first fight, because I know no matter how angry we get, our love is a tougher opponent and can defeat our anger with a TKO.”
Donovan nodded. “You’ve got that right.”
He pulled her to him so she leaned into his chest. Their mouths fused. He lay back, and she stretched out on top of him. Their mouths didn’t so much as part a fraction. They rode out the long, languid kiss to the crest.
Donovan’s hands slipped up the backs of her thighs, snuck beneath the cotton boxers she wore, and massaged her backside. She eased back just far enough to say, “I also envision something else.”
“What’s that?” His lips moved against hers.
“Sex. Lots of sex.”
“More sex than poker?”
“Hm. Let me think about that a moment.” She sucked on his bottom lip. Then her lips moved down his neck. She caught the fading scent of his cologne there. Even that could cause her stomach muscles to clench in pleasure. She lifted her head to look into his face. Her finger followed the sharp line of his jaw. She lowered to his lips for another languid kiss. Their tongues stroked silkily, hotly against each other’s, drawing out moans.
