Her Perfect Getaway (11 page)

“So what’s the plan for tonight?”
Bailey asked Sullivan, digging her hand in the bag of taro
chips.

He shifted, keeping Elizabeth’s
hand in his as he folded his legs in front of him. He grinned at
them. “A party on the beach.”

***

A party on the beach barely
described the event. Sullivan drove them into a gated neighborhood,
where houses backed onto the beach.

“Holy shit, I
want to live here,” Joslyn said as they got out of the van.

“Who are these people?” Elizabeth
asked when Sullivan circled the front of the van to take her hand
again.

“Mom’s old surf buddy. We keep in
touch. Some of my students take surf lessons from him.”

“And he just happened to have a
party out here tonight? When we were headed out here
anyway?”

“He has parties just about every
week. I knew he’d have one tonight, so I planned our North Shore
trip today.” He started up the steps to the house, leading the
way.

“And he won’t mind five extra
guests?” Haven asked.

Sullivan hesitated with his hand on
the front door. “He won’t even notice.” He pushed open the door and
ushered them inside. In the open, airy living space. Four couples
sat on three long low white leather sofas. They lifted hands in
lazy greetings, barely pausing their conversation, as Sullivan led
the way through the house, into a kitchen that seemed to be all
windows looking out on the Pacific Ocean, the granite counters
laden with food, and onto a deck above the beach. Only then did he
break contact with Elizabeth to step forward to embrace a
weather-beaten blond man who made an exclamation of surprise before
returning Sullivan’s hug enthusiastically.

“Max! So glad you made the time to
come. It’s been too long.”

“It has.”

“Did you go out
today?” The older man inclined his head toward the water.

Sullivan shook his head and stepped
back. “I was escorting these lovely ladies around town. I told them
a party on the beach would be the perfect end to the
day.”

He introduced the women. “Ladies,
this is my mother’s surf buddy, Jon Petrilla.”

“If we’d known,
we would have brought a contribution,” Bailey said, glancing toward
the kitchen.

“Nonsense. We have plenty. We
always do. Enjoy.” Jon narrowed his gaze at Elizabeth, who had
edged slightly away from Sullivan but not enough, apparently. “And
this one is the special one?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks heated. Had
Sullivan spoken about her to this man? They’d only known each other
four days. “Special one?” she echoed.

Sullivan’s cheeks were red as well.
“This is Elizabeth,” was all he said.

Jon took her hand in both of hers
and she sensed he was taking her measure as he did so. Without
releasing her hand, he backed toward the stairs. “Let’s go down to
the beach. Some of your kids are here, Max.”

Elizabeth hung back a little as she
watched Sullivan greet people he knew, some clearly students, some
closer to Jon’s age, some to Sullivan’s own. Despite Jon’s
assertion that he hadn’t seen Sullivan in awhile, Max fit right in.
Jon introduced the women and drew them toward the bar beneath the
deck. The host slipped behind the counter to offer a variety of
mixed drinks. Elizabeth followed Sullivan’s example of a bottle of
Longboard. They moved toward the buffet on a table beside the
stairs, and Sullivan loaded her up with fruit, ribs, and
sweetbread.

When the five of them approached
the fire they didn’t have to ask anyone to make room. The evening
seemed a little warm for a fire, but this appeared to be more about
companionship than keeping warm. As she ate the delicious food, she
listened to surf stories that had chills crawling up her spine. She
thought about the power she’d seen in the water today, that she
heard just feet away right now, and wondered how anyone managed to
survive on a surfboard in those conditions.

“I’ve seen some bad accidents out
there,” Jon said in a voice that was commanding, yet calming. “But
I’ll never forget the one that stopped my heart. The surfer was out
there, carving, some of the best surfing I’ve ever
seen.”

Beside her, Sullivan went still,
his gaze lowered to the fire. For a moment, Elizabeth thought Jon
was telling a story about his mom, but something told her it
wasn’t. Sullivan’s eyes got a faraway look, like he was reliving
it, like he was there.

“Then he went over the falls on a
wave just out there.” Jon pointed to the ocean with his pinky, the
rest of his hand wrapped around a beer bottle. “I saw him go under,
then the surfboard followed him, straight down, nose first.” Jon
aimed his flat hand toward the sand. “I knew he didn’t have time to
get out of the way. I started running, his mother started running,
but of course the surfboard got there first. The waves tumbled him
pretty good and we had a hard time getting to him, then getting him
to shore. Neither of us had thought to get the wave runner. When we
got him to the beach, he was half-conscious and covered with blood.
He’d split his scalp from his ear to the back of his head. The flap
of skin was just hanging.”

Elizabeth shuddered. Sullivan
lifted her fingers and guided them to his scalp where she felt the
bulge of scar tissue.

“It’s amazing you ever went back
in the water.”

“Didn’t have a
choice.” He nodded toward Jon, whose smug look made her stomach
tighten. She’d seen the expression before, on her father’s face
when he was making sure she did the right thing.

She slid her hand from the back of
Sullivan’s head to rest on his bicep.

“Any of you ladies tried surfing?”
Dale Fenton, one of Jon’s—and Sullivan’s—students asked.

“Not likely to after hearing these
stories,” Haven said with a delicate shiver.

“Elizabeth’s gone out with me a
couple of times.” Sullivan rubbed his hand over her back. “Shows
promise.”

“Never too late to start,” Jon
proclaimed. “And good exercise. You feel it in your thighs, don’t
you?”

“Mr. Sullivan tried to teach me to
surf once,” Dale said. “Made me recite the Bill of Rights before he
let me out on the water.”

Sullivan shifted behind Elizabeth,
his thighs on either side of her hips. “Worked, didn’t
it?”

Dale rolled his eyes. “Still have
them memorized.”

“If you’d stuck with me, you’d
have that essay done for your application already.”

Dale leaned forward, digging his
heels into the sand. “I’ll never forget the field trip we took to
the Judiciary History Center. Mr. Sullivan drove the bus. We all
had our boards in the back. Once we got through the center, we hit
the beach. Mr. S let us get our boards if we could answer his
questions. I don’t think Aaron ever got into the water.”

“He should have paid attention.”
Sullivan draped his arms over his knees, his fingers tracing
patterns on Elizabeth’s shins. “Then Cindy took that header and
needed stitches. Almost lost my job on that one.”

“You sound like no teacher I ever
had,” Bailey said with a laugh.

His hands cupped Elizabeth’s shins
and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “I like it.”

She settled back against his chest
and let herself relax as she pictured him in his classroom—probably
colorful with lots of windows and messy man handwriting on the
board. She could imagine him throwing his energy and enthusiasm
into his job, transmitting it to his students.

Would he be as excited to teach in
Texas? The thought shocked her enough that her body tensed with it.
That was future thinking, and this was just a fling.

She couldn’t let herself forget
that.

Chapter Eight

Just a
fling
.

Elizabeth swiped the key card and
pushed open the hotel room door. Sullivan stepped in behind her,
his hand sliding down to the small of her back, the simple
possessive touch sending heat pooling between her legs. He crossed
to the dresser and removed his watch, pressing a few buttons before
setting it down. The domestic display sent another roll of heat
through her, but this settled elsewhere, nearer to her
heart.

She was in a danger zone
here.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.
I don’t want sand all over my sheets.”

“Want company?” he asked over his
shoulder.

“I’ll be right out,” she said
quickly, her hand on the knob to the bathroom, needing distance,
just for a bit. “Why don’t you enjoy the view?” She nodded toward
the balcony doors. Without waiting for his response, she ducked
into the bathroom.

Quickly she
attended business and stepped into the shower for a quick rinse,
chanting her new mantra—
just my body, not
my heart.
She slipped into the new
thigh-length kimono-style robe she’d bought earlier, looped her
hair in a style she’d seen another girl wear, and opened the
door.

The bedroom was empty, but the
balcony doors were open. She stepped outside to see Sullivan
leaning on the rail, looking over the lights of the city to the
beach. He glanced over his shoulder, did a double take and turned
with a full-on grin, his arms folded over his chest.

“My island girl,” he said with
approval.

Elizabeth ruthlessly strangled the
flush of pleasure his words sent through her as he joined her in
the doorway.

“I guess you haven’t really been
out here,” he said.

“Just the first morning, when I
wanted to be closer to the water, so I went out and found
you.”

He slid his hand around her back,
over the silky fabric. He made a huff of approval when he realized
she wore nothing beneath and reached between them to loosen the tie
with a hook of his finger. The robe fell open and he pushed the
edges aside as he backed her against the doorjamb.

“Someone will
see,” she whispered, her pulse kicking at the thought of being
nearly naked on the balcony.

“They might know
what we’re doing, but they won’t see you.” He lowered his mouth to
hers, bringing her naked body against his clothed one.

The gentleness of his mouth on hers
surprised her, the slow caress of his lips and tongue not unlike
the waves below them. She curved her hand around the back of his
neck and let herself float on the rhythm, let her fears drift and
her body take over. His fingers stroked lightly down her sides,
tracing circles on her hips until she pressed closer to him, riding
his arousal through his canvas shorts. He released her mouth to
kiss her jaw, her ear, her throat.

“There!” she
gasped when he reached a particularly sensitive spot.

He obliged, lingering, cupping her
breast at the same time and teasing her nipple with his thumb.
Wetness flooded her channel and she needed him now. Frantic, she
reached between them for the button of his shorts, but he captured
her wrist, lifting his head at the same time.

“Sullivan!” she
protested.

He lifted her against him, his
hands on her naked ass beneath the kimono. She wasted no time in
wrapping her legs around him, and he carried her inside, lowering
her gently on the bed. She barely had time to lift onto her elbows
to watch him undress—God, he was a gorgeous specimen—before he was
over her, naked skin to naked skin, his erection pulsing against
her hip as he smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed
her.

Once more she lost herself in his
rhythm, desire a slow burn instead of an out-of-control fire. He
touched her everywhere, gentle strokes doing as much to turn her on
as their passionate night on the hammock. He released her mouth to
kiss his way down to her breast, flicking her nipple, sucking it
tenderly, repeating the caress on her other breast before
descending further.

“I want—”

He lifted his head from her belly.
“I know what you want.” And he hooked her legs over his shoulders,
opening her to him.

“Sullivan—”

“Max.”

“What?”

“When you say my name tonight,
call me Max.”

Did he understand her use of his
last name was meant to keep a distance between them? Of course he
did. He wasn’t stupid. If he was, she wouldn’t be falling for him,
damn it.

He dragged his fingertips over her
slick flesh, his attention too focused.

“Don’t,” she whispered, but the
rest of the words fled her brain as he lowered his mouth to her,
teasing her folds with his tongue, sucking tenderly on her clit
before sliding two fingers into her channel, dragging her wetness
forth.

She couldn’t think anymore,
dissolving into nothing but sensation as he stroked her, filling
her with nothing but pleasure, holding her on the very edge of an
orgasm she wasn’t even sure she wanted—she didn’t want this feeling
to end.

“Max,” was all she could
manage.

He grinned and rose over her,
pressing a condom into her hand. She opened it with shaking fingers
and reached between them to roll it on, then guided him to
her.