“Look – if you really don’t want to –“ I started.
“Brah.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
He softened the tiniest bit in his tone. “You said I didn’t sound enough like a surfer. And I figured ‘dragooned’ wasn’t too surfer-like. So I added a ‘brah.’”
“…oh.” I figured he was trying, so I gave a weak smile.
He sighed. “So… what do you know about surfing?”
I scrunched up my face, trying to think. “Well, you use a board … and you ride on waves…”
The look on his face was one of dawning horror.
“…um… and it looks like fun…?” I said with a wince and an apologetic smile.
He groaned and shook his head. “This is going to be a long, long day.”
17
He sighed and gestured at my clothes. “Alright, take off the T-shirt.”
I froze. “Why?”
“What’s the matter? Didn’t you wear a bathing suit?” he asked with more than a hint of mockery.
“Yes, but – why?”
Now he was getting annoyed. “Because nobody surfs in t-shirts, that’s why.”
“But don’t they surf in wet suits?”
He looked amused. “You have a wet suit?”
“…no…”
“Then take off the t-shirt.”
I had known this moment was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. Embarrassed, I shucked off my daisy dukes and pulled my T-shirt over my head.
“It’s from Kansas. I haven’t had time to get a bikini,” I said, trying to explain.
To my relief – and, I have to admit, a tiny bit of disappointment mixed in – he didn’t seem to care.
“It’s fine. Alright, here’s the board.” He laid it down in the sand. “Go ahead and lie down on it like you’re paddling in the water.”
“Wait – aren’t we going in the water?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
He looked at me in irritation. “Because doing it in the water is difficult, so we’re going to spend some time up on the shore first.”
“Then why’d you have me take off my clothes?!” I asked in a huff.
“Because nobody gets on a surf board with all of their clothes on, so I don’t want you to get used to it!” He was seriously irritated now. “You know, if you don’t want to learn –”
“I do, I do, I just…”
I was thinking you might be trying to look at me.
Which, to tell the truth, wouldn’t be so bad…
…except you don’t seem that interested.
He got tired of waiting for me to finish my sentence, so he asked, “You just what?”
I didn’t know what to say. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth.
“…I’m shy.”
Which was sort of the truth.
Although, if I had on a bikini, I think I might be less shy, strangely enough.
He scoffed. “You didn’t seem that shy last night when you bugged me incessantly to teach you.”
“That was different.”
“I’m sure it was. Come here.”
He put his hand on the small of my back and pushed me over to the board.
Immediately, a thrill of pleasure shot up my spine. Oh my God! His touch was electric – unlike the way anybody else had ever touched me before.
Well, in a socially acceptable manner out in public, anyway.
As soon as I stepped onto the board, he immediately put both his hands on my bare shoulders and pressed down on me gently.
Ohhhhhh…
“What are you doing?” I asked. I hoped I didn’t sound as out of breath as I felt, just from his touch alone.
“Lie down on the board,” he commanded.
“Why?”
“Are you going to question every single thing I tell you to do?”
“But people stand up when they surf.”
He put one hand on my shoulder and virtually forced me down onto the board.
“More learning, less talking.”
More touching, less talking, please.
But I did what he asked and lay down completely on the board.
18
So began my first surfing lesson. He demonstrated paddling there in the sand, even going so far as to get down on the beach beside me and move his arms in the way he wanted me to copy. (I also got a pretty good look at his ass out of the corner of my eye. It was spectacular, let me tell you.)
We spent at least an hour talking about the different parts of the board – the deck (the part you stand up on), the rails (the sides), the nose, the tail. We talked about breaks, and swells, and ‘popping up,’ which is going from lying on the board to standing. He told me about when to paddle and when to ‘duck dive’ – going under the water with your board to avoid waves slamming into you and pushing you back.
Finally, after a whole lot of talk and not much touching at all, he took me out into the ocean – apparently just to paddle and possibly bodysurf.
“That’s a thing?” I asked.
“What?”
“Bodysurfing!”
“You’ve never heard of bodysurfing?” he asked in astonishment.
“Yeah – for seven-year-olds.”
“It’s a thing for newbie surfers, too.”
“When they’re seven years old?” I asked sarcastically.
“No – when they’re incredibly overconfident,” he said as he walked past me with the board under his arm.
“I’m not overconfident!” I insisted as I ran to keep up with him.
“I’m sensing otherwise.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“Maybe I am, but you’re still starting off bodysurfing.”
I opened my mouth to say something else.
“End of discussion,” he snapped, and set the board down in the water. “Now get on and paddle.”
I stepped out into the water as a wave rushed up and whooshed over my feet – and immediately screamed bloody murder.
“AAAAHH!”
He looked at me in alarm. “What?!”
“It’s cold!” I whined.
His expression flooded with both relief and incredulity. “Oh my God – seriously?”
“Don’t you think it’s cold?” I asked timidly. I realized he thought I was ridiculous, but I still sought some sort of confirmation that I was right.
“It’s June in Southern California,” he said in a deadpan voice. “This is not cold.”
“But it’s, like, 8AM! In the morning! Maybe we should wait to go in until I buy a wetsuit,” I suggested.
He scowled. “Why would you buy a wetsuit? You don’t even know yet if you like it enough to keep doing it.”
If you touch me again like you were before, I’ll like it alright. Enough to buy anything.
Wisely, I didn’t say that out loud.
Instead, I just whined. “But it’s CO-O-OLD!”
He crossed his arms over his massive chest and gave me what I can only describe as an enigmatic smile. “Well … only one way to get used to it.”
I didn’t get his meaning until he started advancing on me.
“Oh no,” I said, putting up a finger. “No – no – ”
It became clear that he wasn’t going to listen to me.
A part of me wanted to give in, to let him wrap me up in those big, strong arms. But another part of me said Screw that – this water is COLD.
That’s the part of me that won out. I turned and started to run.
“NOOOOOO!” I screamed and laughed at the same time.
Didn’t matter. He was way faster than me and had no problem with splashing through the cold water while I was trying to stay as splash-free as possible.
Unfortunately – and fortunately – he caught me.
I say fortunately, because I got to feel those big, strong arms wrap around my body. My heart skipped a beat when I felt his warm skin against mine.
U
nfortunately, that part didn’t last very long.
“NOOOO!” I screamed – no laughter this time – as he scooped me up against his chest, ran out into the surf, and threw me flailing into the water.
My heart had skipped a beat when he swept me up. I think it damn near stopped when I went under.
Remember a couple of years ago, when everybody was doing that Ice Bucket Challenge? All the celebrities would make a video where they got doused in ice water?
I’m pretty sure that’s what this felt like. Yeah, there wasn’t any ice or bucket, but it was still plenty damn cold.
I came up gasping from the water, feeling – and, I’m sure, looking – like a drowned cat.
“I HATE you!” I shouted.
He laughed. He looked happier than he had all morning.
“Bastard!”
I ran after him, intent on doing to him what he had done to me. He laughed even harder as he kept just a few steps ahead of me at all times, taunting me. We ran in circles through the water until I finally jumped on him, basically leaping into his arms, and we fell into the water – both of us laughing.
I didn’t quite realize how sexual it all was until the waves receded and he was left there lying on the sand with me on top of him, looking down at him.
I could feel every inch of his warm skin against mine – made even more delicious by the cold water everywhere else.
As we both lay there, panting, looking into each other’s eyes, I half-expected him to kiss me. To grab my head and force it down so that he could put his burning lips against mine.
Didn’t happen.
“…we should surf,” he said slowly, in a way that made me fully aware of the awkwardness of the situation.
“Yes,” I said. “We should definitely surf.”
I rolled off of him onto the wet sand. He got up, and then hauled me to my feet. And we set off together back into the waves to retrieve the board.
But oh, how I wished we could have stayed like that a little while longer, me lying on top of him…
19
I paddled around as he gave me more instruction. He was a real drill sergeant – and he seemed to enjoy it. I splashed him every chance I got, but he didn’t seem to mind. Usually he would just splash me back, which I did not like.
At the very end, I even rode a few waves in – and really enjoyed it. I was beginning to think, Hey, I’m getting really good at this surfing thing, when he took the board under his arm and headed up towards the shore.
“Where are you going?” I asked indignantly, my hands flung out to my sides like What the hell, dude?!
“We’re going up on shore now,” he announced.
“Why?!”
“We’re going to practice your pop-ups.”
“That’s getting on the board, right?”
“Yep.”
“Why can’t we try it out here?”
“I thought the water was cold,” he said mockingly.
I stuck out my tongue, then said, “It is, but some asshole threw me in and now I’m used to it.”
He grinned. “You just want to stay in the water because I don’t want you in the water right now.”
“…maybe,” I said, putting my hands on my hips and cocking them to the side.
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re kind of a brat?” he asked good-naturedly.
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re kind of a jerk?”
“Lots of people. But nobody I’ve ever taught surfing to before.”
“Have you ever taught anybody surfing before?”
“No comment.”
“You haven’t!” I said, pointing my finger at him accusingly. “That’s why nobody’s told you that you’re a jerk – because they all would have!”
“Maybe, but I don’t care – you still have to do the pop-ups on shore. You need to get your balance locked in solid, and the best place to do that is on land first.”
“My balance is solid!” I insisted.
He raised his eyebrows as he laid the board down in the sand. “Who’s not overconfident?”
“I’m not!”
“Yeah? Prove it,” he taunted me. “Get on the board and pop up.”
I stuck out my tongue at him as I lay down on the board. After a couple of seconds, I popped up – which is basically going from a push-up position into that stereotypical Cowabunga, I’m surfing! pose, but in more of a squat. And I did it rather gracefully, if I do say so myself.
Unfortunately, he pushed me over as soon as I was on my feet, and I sprawled face-first into the sand.
“Hey!” I yelled as I flipped over.
The bastard was laughing at me again.
“That was cheating!” I shouted.
“That was barely a tap,” he said. “If you’d been balanced, you wouldn’t have fallen over, or you would have rocked and then righted yourself.”
“Whatever, cheater,” I said as I threw a handful of sand at his shorts.
“Watch it now,” he warned.
“You watch it,” I said, and threw two handfuls of sand against his washboard abs.
Mmmm… washboard abs.
“You keep doing that,” he said, “and I’m going to throw you back in the water.”
That really wasn’t a deterrent. It was more like a promised reward.
So I kept throwing sand.
As promised, he scooped me up in his arms, squealing and squirming. I playacted like I was trying to get away, but instead I just used the opportunity to push against that massive chest and his humongous biceps.
Oh my God…
Getting dunked in the water again was soooooo worth it.
And it didn’t even feel like the Ice Bucket Challenge anymore. More like the ice tea that’s been sitting out at room temperature and getting condensation all over everything challenge.
“Well,” I said, “now that I’m in the water, I might as well do the pop-ups out here.”
He groaned. “You never give up, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. You want to pop up out here, you can pop up out here.”
“No cheating!” I snapped.
“I won’t need to,” he said over his shoulder as he walked back up on shore to retrieve the board.
I watched that magnificent ass in his board shorts every step of the way, and felt a little sad when he picked up the board and turned around. Although the front view was stellar, too.
Once he got back over to me he placed the board in the water. “Have at it.”
I laid down on the board, popped up like a ninja –
And promptly fell in the water.
When I came up sputtering, he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Shut up,” I growled as I got back on the board.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you grin awful loud.”
I tried it five more times, and fell in the water every time.
“So,” he asked with a self-satisfied smile, “how’s that whole ‘popping up out on the water’ thing working out for you?”
“Ha ha ha, funny funny funny,” I grumbled as I grabbed the board under my arm and trudged back up to the sand.
20
We worked on popping up for another 30 minutes or so, until my legs felt rubbery. Eventually I collapsed on the sand and rolled over onto my back.
“I can’t go on,” I moaned. “Just leave me here until high tide comes and gets me.”
He laid down in the sand beside me, his gorgeous body sprawled out next to mine. I have to say, looking at him certainly put a spark of life back into me.
He shook his head. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”
“I’ve been told it makes life more fun,” I said.
“So that’s been your experience? More drama equals more fun?”
I winced. “No… not really.”
He smiled. “How about a lunch break then?”
I immediately sprung up into a sitting position and clapped my
hands. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”
“Seems like somebody isn’t ready for the ocean to take them quite yet.”
“Not until after I have my lunch, anyway. I’m buying.”
He waved me off with his hand. “I can buy my own.”
“You’re teaching me how to surf. The least I can do is buy you lunch,” I insisted.
He stroked the blonde scruff on his chin thoughtfully. “That is true… that is pretty much the absolute least you could do.”
I scooped up a handful of sand and threw it on him. He laughed.
“Now I’m not going to buy you anything!” I said.
“That’s fine.”
“You were supposed to fight back,” I pouted. “Of course I’m buying you lunch.” Then I gave him a smirk. “And if you’re a good boy I’ll buy you a drink, too.”
He folded his hands behind his head with his arms flung out wide on the sand, giving me a gorgeous view of his chest and rippling abs. “Well, I’m not a good boy, so I guess I’m buying my own drink.”
“Fine – be a bad boy, I’ll still get you the freakin’ drink.”
God, I want you to be a bad boy to me… I thought silently as he hauled me up from the sand and we trudged up the beach towards the boardwalk.
21
We found a hotdog vendor – not the sort of cart with boiled hotdogs that I was used to back in Kansas – but a Mexican street vendor with a grill full of half-charred sausages, onions, and green peppers. It smelled absolutely delicious.
“Are we sure this is okay?” I whispered to Ian. “I mean, like, health code violation-wise?”
“You’re a surfer now,” he said as he picked out a Coke can from the ice chest next to the grill. “You gotta learn how to live dangerously.”
“Well,” I said, as I took my lunch from the smiling hotdog guy, “If I’m going to get salmonella, at least I’ll get it on a full stomach.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ian laughed as he led the way back down to the beach.
We sat on the sand as we ate. The food was absolutely delicious.
To start up conversation, I returned to something he’d mentioned the previous night. “You said you lived in the Bay area – you mean San Francisco?”
Sex On The Beach: Bad Boys Club Romance #1 Page 5
