Breaker's Passion (6 page)

Her mother was better now, but not by much. She still wanted her eldest daughter to find a good man, marry, and pop out a few more grandchildren for her. As if the nine she already had from her other daughters weren’t enough. She couldn’t accept the fact that Mr. Right was in fact Ms. Right. They had long ago compromised on that subject. Jeanette never asked and Colby rarely told.

The Detroit Tigers were handily beating her favorite team, the Seattle Mariners, when she set the KFC bucket next to the four empty Bud Light bottles and drifted to sleep.

The dream tonight was not about death but the very essence of life. The woman’s face was not clear but her unruly blond hair fell into Colby’s face as she hovered over her. Her body was hard and warm on top of Colby’s, and the woman wouldn’t let her go until she had her fill.

It all started with a good-night peck on the cheek. Colby didn’t know exactly where they had gone, but she was standing in the doorway of the woman’s house thinking the evening was over when the woman slid her arms around her neck and kissed her. Seriously kissed her.

She instinctively gathered the woman in her arms and pulled her closer. The woman deepened the kiss, her tongue quickly exploring the inside of Colby’s mouth. Not breaking their kiss, she pulled Colby into the house, slammed the door shut, and pressed her against it.

The anonymous woman was not at all shy about what she wanted, and almost before Colby knew what was happening her shirt was open and her pants were on their way to the floor. Not being one to lag behind, she got busy.

Before long they were prone on the woman’s bed. Colby feasted on full breasts with hard nipples. She kissed the stranger from head to toe and many times in between. She caressed the woman with her hands and mouth inside and out, until she begged for release. She was insatiable and took her repeatedly until she was begging for rest.

Then the roles were reversed. The unknown woman devoured her, taking her over the brink and back more times than Colby could remember. They consumed each other until too exhausted to do anything but collapse on the moist, tangled sheets.

Like her other dreams, when she woke she was drenched in sweat, her breathing ragged. This time, though, her body was alive, every nerve active, her head buzzing with sensation. Her hands were shaking and her legs weak as she staggered to the bathroom. Snapping on the light she splashed her face with cold water. Her reflection in the mirror was one she hadn’t seen in a long time. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dilated, her hair disheveled. She was sexually aroused almost to the point of pain, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. A very long time.

Elizabeth woke feeling like a truck had run over her. Her head was pounding and, if she was careful, very careful, she might not end up bent over the pristine, expensive toilet. Of course if she hadn’t had that final cocktail last night, or even the three or four before that, she wouldn’t feel like this.

After the woman left she was too keyed up to go to her room. She went instead to the bar by the pool and dropped her credit card in the hand of the young bartender. Like the surfer, he was Hawaiian, with dark skin that she suspected was as smooth as the woman’s had been. The waitress was very attentive and, thank goodness, not Hawaiian, Elizabeth was not sure how many more pairs of dark eyes she could handle.

Groaning, she gingerly got out of bed and, holding her temples, shuffled to the bathroom. The sound of the shower water was like cymbals crashing, and it hurt to think what it would feel like when it beat against her scalp. She tried to brush her teeth, but watching the back-and-forth movement of the brush added to her nausea. Already naked, she stepped into the warm spray.

An hour later with a cup of weak coffee and a piece of dry toast staying in her stomach, she felt almost human. Her head still throbbed and the bright midday sun hurt her eyes so much she had to put on her sunglasses, even though she was still inside. After dozing on the couch for another hour or so, she ventured out to the patio.

The beach was crowded, more so than yesterday. Four young kids were making a sand castle at the water’s edge, not far from a man who was apparently watching them. Three teenage boys were tossing a Frisbee back and forth, and Elizabeth hated to think they might be the three who interrupted them last night.

“Last night, God. What was I thinking?” she said out loud, as if asking would give her the answers she wasn’t able to find last night in her—how many was it—five or six mai tais? She repeated the question, this time in her head. It hurt too much to talk.

She obviously hadn’t been thinking. If she had, she never would have kissed the surfer, let alone practically had sex with a complete stranger on the beach. Sure, they were in a secluded place, or at least they thought they were, but still… Talk about sand in all the wrong places. Or would it be the right places? She shook her head at the confusion and immediately regretted the quick movement.

She sat at the table on the patio, a half-empty bottle of water in her hand. The smell of the hibiscus threatened to unsettle the food she’d been able to keep down, and she took a long slow drink. It seemed to settle the rolling in her stomach and she repeated the action just to be sure. It was after noon, which was about the time she ventured out to the beach yesterday. And saw the woman.

At least she could have learned her name last night. She hated thinking of her as the surfer or the woman or, worse yet, the stranger. Her name was probably something exotic, befitting her heritage. Why was she giving surfing lessons and not running some huge conglomerate, curing cancer, or adorning the cover of some fashion magazine? She had an aura of success, confidence, and something else Elizabeth couldn’t put her finger on, and her intuition was rarely wrong. Maybe she was running away from something—a bad breakup or a gambling debt. Maybe she… Elizabeth saw the woman again. She was walking this way carrying her surfboard. The board that had been against her back while the woman was pressed against her front.

Good God, it was happening again. Her throat was dry, her head dizzy, and the throbbing in her veins settled in her groin. Who was this woman and why was she so affected by her? Elizabeth’s eyes never left the figure as she neared. Today she had on dark green shorts and a bikini top that clearly displayed the perfectly round breasts Elizabeth held in her hands the night before.

The woman hadn’t seen her yet and, with no idea why, Elizabeth slid down in her chair. She heard voices.

“Hey, Breaker, wanna head out?”

“Not right now, Stingray. I’m looking for somebody.” It was that same voice. Her clitoris started to throb.

“You lose a student or something?” The other person laughed.

“No, nothing like that. Just looking for somebody I met the other day.”

The person laughed again. “Jesus, Breaker, you get more girls in a month than I get in six. What is with that? Do all the lesbians in the world know about your talents between the sheets?”

This time the woman laughed and Elizabeth almost dropped her water. It sounded like they were directly in front of her.

“Come on, Stingray, I should be so lucky. Don’t you know by now not to believe everything you hear, especially if it’s coming from Dink and Sandshark? They’re so full of shit. What they don’t know they make up, and you fall for it every time.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’ve seen you in action, Breaker, and you didn’t get that name by settling down with just one. Or two or three, for that matter.” Another laugh.

The voices drifted away and Elizabeth cautiously eased back to a sitting position. The woman from last night was walking away from her, her strong muscles glinting in the sunlight. The man she was talking to was already halfway to the water’s edge.

“Breaker.” She tried out the unusual name and suspected it was a nickname of sorts, like the people she referred to. Her brain flashed to the old beach movies she used to watch as a kid growing up in San Diego.

And what had the guy said? She didn’t get the name Breaker by settling down with one or two? Did that mean what she thought it did? That the woman had left a trail of broken hearts up and down the beach? Elizabeth remembered her fleeting thought the night before that the woman was far too practiced in seduction. But right after that Elizabeth didn’t care and wanted nothing more than to be her next conquest. “Jesus, I’ve got to get out more,” she said to the retreating figure.

Funny. She didn’t feel cheap or used, as she probably should have. Then again, she’d gone willingly into the trees. There was no seduction about it. She wanted the woman. Correction, she wanted Breaker, and she would have had her if not for their nosey audience. What did that make her? She was willing to have sex with a woman she had said less than ten words to. She was a highly respected university president and was acting like one of her students.

“Get a grip, Collins.” She stood and watched the woman walk farther down the beach.

Colby was more than frustrated. The dream last night had left her turned on and on edge. She hadn’t had a wet dream in years, and the fact that she had one was disturbing enough. She had not really desired another woman since Gretchen died. That part of her was understandably dormant, and Colby didn’t intend to bring it out of hibernation. She had sex, but her body’s reaction to the woman was telling her something different.

She had spent practically every free minute this afternoon uncharacteristically looking for the woman from last night. Caught in flagrante once before, she had simply shooed off the voyeurs and finished what she had started. Why hadn’t she done the same with this one? She was certainly willing. In fact, she was giving just as much as she was taking.

After what seemed like forever, the last class of the day was over. Hurriedly, she gathered the boards and tucked them in the shed to the left of the lifeguard shack. She would come back later and load them into her truck for proper storage at her shop. She didn’t know the person manning the lifeguard tower but, other than a polite wave, didn’t pay much attention to who was ten feet above her. She was more interested in who she might find at the pool or farther down the beach.

Strolling more casually than she felt, she passed through the pool area, glancing left and right for any sign of the familiar figure. By the time she reached the bar she had caught the eye of several women, none of whom she paid much attention to. She ordered a bottle of water.

“You’re pretty good out there,” someone said over her right shoulder. She swung around prepared to deflect the come-on but instead found herself looking into the deep green eyes of the woman in her arms last night.

“Thank you,” she replied instinctively. She fell back on politeness, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. She wanted to ask if the woman wanted a drink but cringed inside. The question sounded like a total line.

“How long have you been surfing?”

The woman’s voice was warm with a touch of amusement, an errant strand of hair whipping across her tanned cheeks.

“Practically my entire life,” she replied. She couldn’t help but ask if the woman wanted a refill of the drink in her right hand. When she declined she asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

“I suppose we should talk,” the woman replied, and started walking toward an unoccupied cabana. Colby followed her closely, taking a long look at her backside. The woman didn’t say anything else until they were both settled on the thick-padded lounge chairs.

“I must say you kiss as well as you surf.”

Colby choked on her water, then sat up and coughed a few times, taking deep gulps of air.

“I’m sorry, did I surprise you?”

Shocked was a more appropriate word. When she was finally able to speak she said, “Honestly, yes. It was the last thing I expected to hear. I didn’t think you’d even speak to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She looked at her as if their experience on the beach was the most natural thing in the world.

Colby sipped her drink before she answered. She needed a minute to think of an appropriate reply. Finally, she said, “Too embarrassed by what happened?”

“Making out with a complete stranger or getting caught?” The twinkle in the woman’s eye was a challenge.

“I was referring to my hand down your pants, but your two would work just as well. Take your pick.” Colby liked her spunk and unabashed banter.

“Well,” the woman said, finishing her drink. “I have to admit I usually know the woman’s name before I let her hand into my pants. Same with kissing. I enjoyed both but was grateful for the interruption.”

Holy shit. This woman was like nobody she’d been with since returning to the island. She was direct, honest, and unafraid to say what was on her mind. A familiar tingle began in her groin. This woman would surely say exactly what she wanted in bed too.

“I’ll return the compliment and, in the interest of full disclosure, I guess it was better for those boys to stumble on us when they did than ten minutes later.” Colby was regaining her equilibrium.

“Really?”

“Really. They would have seen more than even I care to show.” She never took her eyes off the woman.

“Are you shy?”

The woman scanned her chest, down her legs and back up again.

“Not in the slightest. But there is a big difference between a bare breast and someone’s face buried between somebody else’s legs.” If this woman could be this bold, she would too. She was even more surprised when the woman removed her water from her hand and took a swallow.

“And is that the position you think we would have been in?” She licked a drop off her top lip.

The air between them sizzled and Colby’s precarious equilibrium shook. “That’s where I was headed.” She returned the look with one of her own that said, “And you wouldn’t have stopped me.”

Minutes ticked by and her world subtly shifted. Colby wanted to wrap her fingers in this woman’s blond hair and use it to pull her mouth to hers, to lick her teeth, which were as white as a Florida beach. She was instantly aroused at the memory of how she had responded in her arms, how she tasted, how she arched into her touch. She wanted her again, this time more than their fevered groping of the night before. Much more. Finally, she held out her hand. “Colby Taylor, surf instructor.”