“We’re not at the resort, Jax.”
“I know,” he said with another wink before grabbing his board and running into the waves.
She watched as he lay on his board and paddled out to where the waves gathered their strength. She’d never thought much about surfing one way or the other, but when she saw Jackson dive under a smaller wave to get to the bigger one behind it, she found herself in complete awe.
The muscles in his back and shoulders bunched and moved with every rotation of his arms. Just as he reached the wave, he hopped onto the board as easily as if it were on stationary ground, not a rolling swell that changed shape as it flowed toward the shore. His feet seemed glued in place as he alternated between crouching and standing.
His board sliced through the wave, zigging and zagging as he pushed it in different directions. Then the wave curled over him and anxiety nearly choked her with worry…until she saw him through the watery window, strong and upright. The nose of his board edged out from behind the shimmering curtain, and then she could see him, water spraying in his face, his hand stretching out to trail his fingers through the side of the tunnel the wave had created. Finally the wave ebbed and Jackson dove off into the water.
Then he resurfaced and started the whole thing over again.
Surfing had officially become her favorite spectator sport.
Vanessa sighed. What was she going to do with him? He was the definition of dichotomy, that was for sure. For all intents and purposes, he seemed to be exactly as he appeared: a talented fighter with the carefree life of a surfer. But something didn’t add up. His actions didn’t reconcile with the responsible man she’d heard about all those years from Lucie. Was it a simple case of idolization on her friend’s part? Or was Jackson hiding the real him? And if so, why?
There were definitely some mysteries about the mega-hot MMA star Jackson Maris. The lawyer in her craved the truth. The woman in her wanted to know the man. Unfortunately, the woman in her wanted to know him a little too well.
She was by no means an inexperienced lover. Being comfortable in her sexuality had been one of the few bandwagons she rode on with the feminists. But it had been a looooooong time since she’d let herself have enough time for anything other than work. Besides that, her dating pool had dwindled down to more like a dating puddle, and even that was drying up. There just weren’t any guys she met that felt like they were worth the effort.
But Jackson… She had a feeling he would be worth the effort and then some. Vanessa chewed on her lip and moved ideas around in her head as she watched him conquer yet another wave.
The butterflies in her stomach began a slight fluttering of their wings.
A talk would need to happen prior to make sure they were on the same page with things. After that, there’d be nothing stopping her from getting horizontal Hawaiian-style with Jackson.
Now that she’d decided to give it the green light, the fluttering escalated to a frenzied flight. Anticipation of finally giving in to the desire she felt for Jackson spread through her, settling heavily in her core.
She took a deep breath of salty air and let it out with a smile. She already felt more relaxed. And even though she’d gotten a decent amount of sleep the night before thanks to her allergy pill solution, she still felt a little worn out. Maybe she’d take a power nap while he surfed. Stretching out on the shaded blanket, she yawned and closed her eyes.
She could still feel Jackson’s kiss on her lips as she drifted off to sleep.
…
The sun and late afternoon breeze had already dried Jackson’s body and suit as he lay on his side watching Vanessa nap. He’d come in from surfing about a half hour ago and hadn’t wanted to wake her. She looked so peaceful, so soft. She was a tough woman and always had a strength about her, like a wary alley cat, ready to fight anyone at a moment’s notice should she need to.
But when she slept, her features relaxed, her muscles sank into the sand beneath her, and wisps of curls danced around her face. Her auburn eyelashes, long and slightly curled, lay like fans above fine cheekbones, and her breaths came light and even through parted red lips.
The memory of her taste was its own aphrodisiac. One small sample and instead of quenching his thirst, it only served to addict him more.