Page 43 of Passionate Defense

“I’ve got you,” he groaned.

Wanting nothing to distract her, except him, he pulled her upright. With an arm around her hips and one at her chest, he drove up into her, his face buried in her sweetly scented hair. Her fingers curled into his forearm, holding on, while her other hand latched onto his outer thigh. They rode the waves of ecstasy together, their cries of fulfillment dispersed in the salty air and masked by the crash of the ocean’s tide along the shore.

After, as he held her, still buried deep, he pressed his lips against her neck and murmured, “I wouldn’t have made you wear that shirt, beautiful, at least not in town.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” she exclaimed with a soft chuckle. “You are diabolical, Professor.”

“What can I say? I’m a freak.”

Her smile was dazzling as she recognized her words from weeks before.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I would have worn that shirt for you, even in town. I just wanted you to spank me.”

“You couldn’t have asked?”

“In the words of my BFF, what would be the fun in that?”

Distant voices and a dog’s bark drifted up to them from the shore not far away. That was Ethan’s clue to separate. He moved them as one, his bigger body blocking the sight of her near nakedness, as he eased slowly out.

Lanie twisted in his arms and wrapped him up tight. Winding her fingers in his hair, she pulled his face down for an ardent kiss. “That was so hot!” she exclaimed, leaning back against his arms and beaming up at him.

Grinning widely in return, he inquired, “Which part, the bondage, the ass warming, or the outdoor sex with the whole Atlantic at your feet?”

“All of the above. Except for the arguing—I didn’t like that—or hanging upside down over the rail with my hands tied. Yikes!”

“You were safe every second.”

“I know, Ethan, but still...”

Laughing, he gathered her up for another steamy lip-lock. After several minutes of renewed passion, she reluctantly pulled away.

“I hate to ruin the moment, but you made a mess and are dripping down my leg.”

Letting her go, he tucked her bikini bottoms in her hand and sent her toward the door with a playful swat. “Go get cleaned up. I need to change into my trunks. Then we’ll pack a cooler and hit the beach.”

“Sounds great. I think I saw a couple of boogie boards in the garage.” In a flash, she took off calling, “Last one down has to carry all the stuff.”

He was after her like a shot, his long legs covering more ground, on her heels at the bottom of the stairs. She blocked him, laughing wildly with every step. Lanie scrambled to the top first, celebrating her victory with a little dance. He followed, his eyes taking in her bare lower half as she bounced up and down, arms raised as if she were Rocky having climbed the seventy-two steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum. Pleased she didn’t have Balboa’s physique, his eyes raked over every delectable hollow and soft feminine curve.

She halted, her eyes alight with mischief as she looked down at him. “Did I mention all the stuff includes the cooler, the beach umbrella, beach bag, and boogie boards?”

In answer, he began stripping down his shorts right there on the stairs. “I guess that means you’ll be making several trips, slowpoke.” When his khakis hit the treads, she squealed and was off again.

Ethan won of course, at one point lifting her at the waist and moving her aside. Lanie had cried foul and called him a barbarian. After much good-natured teasing and gloating over his victory, he’d carried all the heavy stuff anyway, leaving her their towels and beach bag.

* * *

THEY SPENT A GLORIOUSafternoon strolling hand in hand on the beach while the waves lapped around their ankles, splashing in the surf, and sunbathing in the early September sun as they soaked in the last warm days of the season. They also swam and paddled in the waves on the short boards. When an enormous wave caught Lanie unaware and stripped her of her bikini bottoms, Ethan hooted hysterically. Lanie had been vindicated a few moments later, as an enormous wave took Ethan under. When he came up for air sputtering and wiped the salt from his eyes, Lanie was running back to shore with his trunks held over her head like a victory flag. He’d had no qualms about chasing after her bare-assed naked. He took her to the sand in a soft arm tackle, rolling to protect her from his weight. Tickling inappropriate places was the punishment for her crime.

Going back to rinse off the sand, Lanie soon started shivering and bailed. Although the air was still warm, the water temps were cooler as fall approached. She settled back on their towels, choosing to sit on the warm beach and watch her intrepid husband body surf in the crashing waves. When he emerged a long while later, he shook off like a shaggy dog, sending a spray of water all over her. He made a production of drying her off to make it up to her, the whole time undoing the ties of her bikini top. Afterward, he spread sunscreen meticulously on every square inch of her exposed skin.

“Flip over. I don’t want you to burn,” he ordered, but she could tell he was enjoying every stroke, caress, and reactive wiggle. When he lingered over her breasts, she objected quietly.

“Ethan, I think you’ve got it covered.”

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