41. embrace the wind

41

EMbrACE THE WIND

My days off this week are back-to-back. I take it as a sign and fill my calendar with activities that used to make me happy. On Wednesday I go skydiving in the morning and paragliding in the afternoon. On Thursday I take the first boat to Catalina Island and spend the day scuba diving. By the time I arrive home, my credit card hates me, but I feel good. Proud of the fact I didn't spend my time off wallowing. I crawl into bed that night and pass out without thinking of Leo once.

I dream about him instead. It's an old dream, the one where I'm surfing on sand dunes. Only this time the dunes are moving like real waves, a fierce wind driving coarse sand into my eyes. Leo is waving from the top of a nearby dune, flickering in and out of sight like a mirage. No matter how hard I try to reach him, the sand waves push me back, back…

I wake up covered in sweat, with just enough light in the sky to give me an excuse to get up. Grateful I'm working the breakfast shift today—I'm in no mood to go surfing—I take an extra-long shower and nurse two cups of coffee. At seven thirty, I grab a granola bar and head out. Ferdi slips outside with me, embarking on whatever adventures his day holds.

Even though November is in full swing, there's a wicked heat wave in town. And heat wave means thousands of people flock to the coast. The café is slammed for breakfast, barely slows midmorning, and ramps up again at lunch. Outside, the boardwalk and beach are packed with the usual circus of tourists and locals.

"Dying," gasps Trish, sagging against the hostess podium in a rare lull. Her dark skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, her cheeks deeply rose. The air conditioner stopped working an hour ago. Ceiling fans whir overhead, but without a breeze they're just stirring hot air.

Fanning myself with a menu, I nod. "Shouldn't have bothered showering this morning, that's for sure."

I glance back to check on my tables, and when I turn back around, a familiar figure stands in the doorway.

Déjà vu.

Vincent waves at me and steps inside. "Hi, Amelia! It's hot today, huh? Bet you wish you were surfing."

"Hi," I say weakly, my gaze darting past him but not finding an adult. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Half-day today. Dad picked me up. He forgot something in the car, but he'll be here in a sec. Oh, I'm supposed to give you this."

I accept a folded square of lined paper, aware of Trish's avid focus and my own pounding heart. This can't possibly mean what I think it means.

"Open it!" says Vincent brightly.

"Yeah, open it," hisses Trish from the corner of her mouth.

The paper is smooth, almost cool. I unfold it to find a square of writing in the center.

Trish leans over my shoulder. "Here's a pen," she whispers, pulling it from behind her ear and all but shoving it into my fingers.

"Hi, Dad!"

My head whips up. The first thing I see is a bouquet of wildflowers. The second thing is a set of hopeful, crystal-blue eyes. I blink hard, but he's still there. So is Vincent, who grabs the flowers and pushes them into my arms.

Behind me, I hear several "Ahhs" and "Ohhs" from customers and coworkers.

"She hasn't circled one yet, Dad," whispers Vincent.

Leo glances at the paper, currently crumpled against the stalks of flowers. I can't feel my face, but I must be smiling or crying or shaking or something, because Leo grins.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Can I pick you up at six?"

I nod.

He takes me to a popular sushi joint in Santa Monica. The place is wall-to-wall people, and the servers must be part-time acrobats for how fast and skillfully they move in the narrow aisles between tables.

Up until we were seated, I was nervous Leo was nervous, and constantly scanned him for signs of distress. Though I didn't find any, I wasn't convinced of his shift in attitude until we sat and he reached across the table to link his fingers with mine. Since that moment, I've been in heaven.

The restaurant is so loud we don't talk much, but communicate in subtle touch. He barely looks away from me throughout our meal, following the path of every morsel to my mouth with hungry eyes. The air between us grows painfully electrified.

I never knew eating could be foreplay.

When I lick a drop of soy sauce off my lip, Leo's expression turns pained. He lifts a hand. "Check please."

Giggling like teenagers, we hightail it back to his car. In unspoken agreement, he drives to my place. It's closer. By the time we get inside, my hand is down his pants and my bra dangles at my waist. Undressing the rest of the way isn't graceful, but it's fucking perfect.

"God, Amelia," he groans, peppering kisses across my breasts as he carries me to the bedroom.

I'm unhinged. Dying to have him inside me. But I'm also drunk on his response to me. It makes me bold. It makes me free.

Before Leo can lay me on the bed, I wiggle from his arms, jerk him around by the shoulders, and shove his chest. He lands on his back, eyes wide with surprise, miles of beautiful, aroused male for my viewing pleasure.

Dipping my fingers between my legs, I cup a breast with my other hand. "Do you want this?"

He hisses, his cock twitching in anticipation. "You have no idea how much. Come here, please."

I drag wet fingers to my clit and play with myself, delighting in his agonized groan. It doesn't take long for me to be perilously close to orgasm. "I like it when you beg, Leo, but I also like it when you take what you want."

In two seconds flat, I'm facedown on the mattress. Leo's hot body descends on my back, his teeth finding purchase on my shoulder. I'm still reeling from sensory overload when he drags me to my knees and slams inside me.

"Fuck! Yes! "

I don't know which of us the words come from, if they're spoken or in my mind. But his next words ring loud and clear, punctuated by deep, possessive thrusts.

"I'm keeping you," he murmurs darkly. "This pussy belongs to me. It's been mine for years, but I was too much of a chickenshit to take it. I'm not making the same mistake twice. Do you understand?"

My filthy unicorn.

"Yes, yes, yes," I gasp with every breath.

"Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours!"

"Nothing is going to come between us," he growls. "I won't allow it. You. Are. Mine. "

"Oh… God…"

I come so hard I see white. Leo is seconds behind me—hot breath on my neck and a low grunt in my ear. He collapses atop me. The weight of him is so epic I don't care that I can barely breathe, and I even murmur a protest when he flips us over so I'm sprawled on his chest. Stroking the sweaty hair at my temples, he gently lifts my head.

"I love the look on your face right now."

"Derrrf?"

His smile is smug. "Exactly. Freshly fucked. No guards up, no thoughts, just feeling."

I smile and kiss his chest. "Shut up, Leo. I'm not thinking. Talking requires thinking."

He chuckles and wraps strong arms around me, shifting us once more onto our sides. I bask in the afterglow, my limbs loose and warm, my face tucked against his neck.

"Amelia?"

"Hmm?"

"I meant what I said."

"I know. My pussy belongs to you."

He pinches my hip. "That, too, but I meant the other part. "

"Too much thinking," I moan.

"I'm keeping you," he whispers.

My heart swells, so full, so hot. "Okay," I whisper back. "Can I keep you, too?"

"I'm already yours."

A smile on my face and peace in my heart, I drift to sleep.