Page 37 of Nights at Seaside
They kissed for what felt like hours, with the stars shining down on them, and the bay ebbing and flowing just beyond the dunes. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t caught up in need and out of her mind with desire. She was blissfully, happily swept up inthem.
Being with Sawyer felt too right to be wrong.
“You’re beautiful, Sky. Inside here.” He pressed a kiss above her heart. “And in here.” He kissed her forehead.
His hands slid up her arms, light as a feather, leaving a trail of goose bumps. He brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed each one.
“I want to cherish you.” He dragged his tongue along her wrist, spreading a rush of heat through her.
He lifted her arm above her head and kissed the sensitive crease of her elbow, working his way up to her neck, then along the curve of her shoulder again. He dragged his tongue along the ridge, and then followed the line with his finger, and when he stopped, she knew he’d noticed her tattoo.
“May I see?”
She rolled onto her stomach, and he gathered her hair to one side and lifted her shirt, then traced the lines of her tattoo with his finger.
“Roots,” he said. “They run deep.”
“Family,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes as he traced the roots across her shoulder blade, then down the center of her spine. His finger trailed up the trunk of the tree. Then he pressed his lips to the center of her back.
“Lay your head on my shoulder. Your heart next to mine,” he whispered. “I’ll take it all. Hear it through.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll wrestle your demons, to remain beside you.”
She wondered at his words, but as his hands moved down, and he traced the wordBlessedthat was tattooed at the base of her spine, she felt more at peace,happier, than ever.
“After I lost my mom, when I got back on my feet, I had that done. Her name was Bea, which means blessed.”
He pressed his lips to each of her vertebrae. “Why are there only two limbs on the tree?”
She rolled onto her back. His eyes were so dark, so serious, that she felt herself falling into them again—falling into him. “When I designed it, I didn’t know what my future would look like, so I left it blank. After my father got out of rehab, I added two limbs to symbolize his growth and mine.”
“Same cloth, Sky. You weathered your mother’s death and your father’s alcoholism. I’ve endured the slow loss of my own father. Every word on my back symbolizes a piece of me or a piece of him. A piece of my family being chipped away. The twisted, awful pain, and the incredibly wonderful memories. You and I wear the scars of our lives in words and symbols.”
She didn’t wait for him to lower his lips to hers. She arched up to press her mouth to his, opening up to him in ways she never had to anyone else. The way he spoke, as if every word came directly from his soul, drew her further into him and made her want to know more about him, to feel the emotions inside him.
His arms circled her. She’d already become accustomed to the way he held her so close, like he couldn’t get close enough, and she felt it, too. Her emotions swelled when they were together, and her desires spiraled through her, vying for more—more of him, more of his time, more of his truths.
Their kiss spoke of their intense connection, without pretenses, without fear or a frantic pace. He deepened the kiss, and she didn’t want to hold back anymore. She didn’t care that this was only their second date, or that she’d once said she’d wait to have sex if she felt herself falling for a man. She didn’t want to wait until she fell head over heels in love—she wanted to feel their bodies join together, to feel herself tumbling down that magical slope.
Her fingers moved over the hard planes of his chest, to the grooves between his abs. He covered her hand with his.
“Sky.”
He searched her eyes again, and she wanted to thank him for being so patient and for caring enough to ask again just to be sure. But she got lost in the emotions gazing back at her.
“You’re sure?”
“Very,” was all she could manage before wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.
Chapter Ten
THE NEXT MORNING Sky awoke early to an empty room, with the early-morning sun peering down on her through the glass ceiling of the rooftop room in Sawyer’s house. She rolled over and found a handwritten note on the pillow beside her, and like the one he’d given her the other night with his phone number, it was written on a torn scrap of paper. Lying beside it was a single pink Knock Out rose. She smiled as she lifted the rose and inhaled its sweet aroma, then read the note.
Crying out in your movements. Graceful, longing, hanging by a thread. The longing I see. Set it free, lovely. Come to me.
She marveled again at his words, wondering if he was the P-town poet. Turning the paper over, she found another note, written less hastily, every letter carefully formed.
You were sleeping so soundly I couldn’t bear to wake you. There’s coffee on the counter and clean towels in the bathroom. I’m sure by the time you wake up I’ll be inside, but if not, join me? S.
