Emily’s Summer Getaway

The salt spray kissed Emily’s sun-warmed skin as she paddled out, her arms slicing through the crystal-blue water in smooth, practiced strokes. The surfboard bobbed beneath her, rolling with the rhythm of the ocean, the steady rise and fall making her stomach flutter with anticipation. The wind tugged at her damp hair, salty and wild, whipping strands across her cheeks. She turned her gaze toward the horizon, where the deep blue met the endless sky, the sun blazing overhead, turning the water into molten gold. Her breath quickened when she saw it. A perfect wave swelling in the distance, curling just enough to promise the kind of ride that sent electricity through her veins.

Digging her hands into the water, she paddled hard, feeling the burn in her shoulders, the rush of blood through her limbs. The moment the wave lifted her, she pushed up, knees bent, body aligning instinctively with the shifting force beneath her. The wind roared past her ears as she rode the wave, the world narrowing to nothing but motion and sensation. Her toes curled against the smooth waxed surface of the board, adjusting to the rush of water beneath her. For a brief, breathless moment, she was flying, cutting through the wave-like she belonged to it, feeling the cool spray against her sun-heated skin. The scent of salt and brine filled her lungs, crisp and clean, tinged with the faintest trace of seaweed.

Then, as all waves do, it begins to collapse. She turned with it, angling herself just right before letting gravity take hold, diving into the warm embrace of the sea. The water engulfed her in a cool rush, bubbles fizzing around her ears, the world muffled and weightless. She felt her bikini top shift off of one breast but paid it no mind. When she surfaced, gasping, her laughter blended with the hiss of the retreating wave. She ran a hand over her face, slicking her hair back, and lay on her board for a moment, letting herself drift. She smiled as she recovered her breast. This tiny red suit was sexy but seemed to want her exposed. The sun was merciless, beating down on her exposed shoulders, the heat a sharp contrast to the cool ocean-hugging her limbs.

Finally, she kicked her legs, guiding the board toward shore, each stroke lazy, unhurried. As she reached the shallows, she slid off, the water lapping at her thighs as she grabbed her board and strode onto the beach. She knew she had gone far from the beach she started on but decided to relax for a bit before going back. The sand was scorching beneath her bare feet, a burning kiss that made her move quicker, the grains clinging to her wet skin. She found a spot where the tide had smoothed the beach into a soft, damp bed and dropped her board beside her. With a sigh, she sank onto her back, the heat of the sun licking over her as she stretched out, her limbs loose and heavy with satisfaction. She let the warmth seep into her, her breath slowing, the rhythmic crash of waves a lullaby against her ears.

The salt clung to her lips, her skin tight with the lingering kiss of the ocean. She inhaled deeply, tasting the briny air, sun-drenched, with just a hint of something richer, something unexpected. A prickle of awareness ran down Emily’s spine, subtle, but unmistakable. She wasn’t alone anymore. She kept her eyes closed at first, listening. She knew this area was safe, even for attractive women on their own. The waves rolled in steady pulses behind her, the rhythmic crash and retreat familiar and soothing. But beneath that, another sound, softer, more deliberate. Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Sand shifting underweight. She opened her eyes lazily, squinting against the sun as she propped herself up on her elbows. She enjoyed the way her breasts strained against the thin straps containing them.

There he was. Standing at the edge of the beach, just where the golden sand met the jagged rocks, watching her. The first thing she noticed was his height, tall, broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the late afternoon light. His linen shirt was unbuttoned, the fabric loose and teasing against his tanned chest, moving slightly in the breeze. He wore dark swim trunks, the cut sharp and expensive, clinging to powerful thighs. His stance was casual, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a glass of something amber-colored that caught the sunlight. She did her best to appear like a sexy ocean goddess. Maybe it was working if the bulge in his trunks was caused by her.

But it was his face that held her attention. Strong jaw, dark stubble, a mouth that looked both firm and lazy, like he smiled only when he meant it. But his eyes were deep-set, dark, assessing. The way they were locked on her made heat curl low in her stomach. She realized she was staring, and that he hadn’t said a word. Neither had she. For a moment, the world held its breath. The breeze carried the scent of him toward her a woodsy cologne, rich and masculine, layered with something deeper, something like smoke and salt. It mixed with the ocean air, with the heated sand, with the tang of saltwater drying on her skin. A slow smirk curled the corner of his mouth.

“You always steal into private beaches like a little thief… or am I simply lucky today?” His voice was deep, honeyed with the unmistakable cadence of an Italian accent, smooth as the drink in his hand.

Emily tilted her head, suppressing a grin. “Didn’t see a sign.”

“Ah, maybe you were not looking.”

“Maybe I didn’t care. Do you?” She moved up onto her knees and folded her arms over her stomach. Framing her breasts, trying to tease him. His smirk deepened. He took a slow sip from his glass, his gaze never leaving hers. She let herself stretch, arching her back just enough to emphasize her curves. He watched the movement, his eyes darkening slightly, and the heat between them sharpened.

He exhaled, long and slow. “You look comfortable.”

“I am.”

“Ah, but I can give you something… much better, Bella.” He said after a small pause. His voice was low, full of something unspoken. An invitation. A dare.

Emily let her gaze trail over him, slow and deliberate. “Is that so?”

He extended a hand toward her. “Come. Find out.”

The breeze picked up, teasing the ends of her damp hair, carrying the scent of salt and something distinctly him. She didn’t hesitate. She pushed up onto her feet, shaking the sand from her hands. She made a show of brushing the sand from her body. Her suit even helped by once again slipping off of her breast. She pretended to be concerned and fixed it. She could see the bulge in his pants was bigger. The sun kissed her damp skin as she reached for his outstretched fingers, her own slipping easily into his warm, steady grip. And just like that, she followed him toward the house. Toward whatever came next. She really hoped it was a day of passionate sex.

The path to the house was a smooth stretch of white stone, warmed by the sun and edged with lush green foliage. The scent of salt and something floral hung in the air, mingling with the lingering notes of his cologne, rich, warm, and undeniably masculine. Emily let him lead, her fingers still curled around his. His grip was firm but unhurried as if he already knew she would follow. The house came into view. White-washed walls, open terraces draped with ivy, windows yawning toward the sea. It looked expensive but lived-in, touched by warmth rather than cold perfection. The kind of place a man like him could disappear to, far from the world.

She smirked, letting her gaze drift back to him. A place like this… he’s definitely used to company.

“So,” she mused, her voice light, teasing. “How many women have you brought up this path?”

He didn’t falter, didn’t even glance at her. Just let out a quiet chuckle, deep in his chest. “Ah… only the attractive ones, cara.” Her stomach flipped. He said it so casually like it was a simple fact rather than a compliment. Heat unfurled in her, not just from his words, but from the way he carried them, with a confidence that didn’t ask for permission. He was defiantly hoping to fuck her and she had no intention of making that hard. Well, he could be hard. She wanted him hard.

“Mmm. That’s a good line,” she said, arching a brow. “Do they all fall for it?”

This time, he looked at her, eyes dark with amusement. “No.” A beat. “But you will.”

A spark of anticipation ran through her. She should have rolled her eyes and played it off. But she didn’t want to. No stupid games. He wanted her. She wanted him. Also, he was right. She already fell for his line. She already liked the way he spoke to her. So bold, unrushed, like he wasn’t testing the waters but claiming what he knew was his. Like she was meant to be here, walking into his house, letting him peel away whatever was left between them. God, she could feel it, that slow pull, the way her body was already tuned to his.