“Really?” he sounded delighted, and turned his full attention to me. “I’ve never seen any pictures of me surfing.”
My heart gave a quick, unhappy flop: my poor boy had never had parents who cared that he was good at something.
He sat down on the towel next to me, his skin glistening with drops of seawater. Trying not to get distracted, I showed him the shots I’d caught, and he raised his eyebrows.
“Wow! You’re a really good photographer, Caro.”
“I have excellent subject material,” I said, then snapped a close-up of his exquisite face and chest.
“What’s that for?” he said, blinking in surprise.
“Just so I know you’re real,” I told him. “I think you’re a figment of my overwrought imagination, and you might disappear when I wake up. But now,” I said, waving the camera at him, “I have proof.”
He grinned and shook his head, as if I was a little bit crazy. Which I was. Like he’d said: crazy in love.
He pushed me down onto the beach towel with his damp body, and kissed me in a way that told me how he felt. I stroked my hand over his wet hair and smiled up at him.
“You’re so cute when you’re wet.”
“So are you,” he said, with a leer.
We ate lunch on the beach, panini from the shop and some fresh fruit sold by a bored teenage boy, who was slouched under a beach umbrella.
Sebastian continued to flirt with me, tease me, and toy with my bikini straps, which I found ridiculously adorable. It was all I could do to stop myself from leaping on him there and then. But we were both enjoying just touching each other, playing and spending time together, without having to worry about what anyone else thought, said or did.
In the afternoon, he fell asleep in the sun and I lay watching him for nearly an hour, almost unable to believe my luck: that he was really mine, and that I was his.
We spent the rest of the day on the beach. Sebastian even persuaded me to go for a surf with him, although I thought the water was really too chilly to be pleasurable.
“Come on, Caro, I’ve wanted to try this for ages. Let’s take the board out and catch a wave together. I’ll do the paddling and I can stare at your gorgeous ass while I’m doing it.”
Which was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I lay on the board first, and Sebastian jumped on behind me. He couldn’t resist giving my ass a quick bite.
We paddled out to just behind where the waves were breaking, then as the water started to rise, Sebastian turned the board around and we began to speed down the front of the wave.
“Get ready to pop up!” he yelled, above the crashing surf. “Go!”
I scrambled to my feet and felt the board wobble slightly, then Sebastian was behind me, one hand steadying me as we raced down the face of the wave.
It was the most extraordinary feeling, riding that wave together. In some ways it was a metaphor for the life we were starting out on. Who knew when we’d fall off? But by trusting each other and moving as one, the ride would be longer.
Eventually, Sebastian conceded that I really was cold, and we belly-boarded back into the beach.
“Your nipples are hard,” he said, pointing out the darned obvious.
“Well, what a shocker,” I said. “I’ve never seen them like that before.”
“Is that right? I’ll see what I can do about it later.”
“Promises, promises,” I sighed.
His eyes widened and his nostrils flared with the challenge.
“Bed, woman. Now.”
“Don’t you want to find somewhere to have dinner first?”
He shook his head. The Chief wanted sex, not food. I really, really wasn’t going to argue.
We booked the room behind the beach shop, but were interrupted en route to our sexcapades by the owner, who was desperate to talk to Sebastian about surf spots in California. I left them mulling over whether San Diego or Monterey had the better breaks, even though I could feel Sebastian’s eyes following me across the beach.