Page 38 of Nights at Seaside
She walked to the windows overlooking the water and noticed a few pencils and pens and a scrap of paper against the wall. He’d said this was where he wrote songs, and she imagined him sitting by the window, overlooking the sunset as he scrawled verse after verse. She gazed out the window and caught sight of Sawyer down on the beach. His shoulders were rounded forward, his hands fisted, as he punched the air. He bounced on the balls of his feet, the way she’d seen fighters do on television. He was shirtless, and from her vantage point, the words on his back blurred together, shadows of darkness inked into his skin.
She watched him with interest as he fought an invisible contender. She pressed the note to her chest. She hadn’t ever woken up alone in a man’s house before, and strangely, she didn’t feel as though she’d been abandoned. Sawyer intrigued her. There were so many layers to him. He’d cherished every inch of her body last night with tenderness and had taken her equally as roughly and possessively in the wee hours of the morning, somehow knowing exactly when or what she’d needed and wanted with every touch.
She gazed out the window as Sawyer turned toward the house. Even from so far away she could tell he was smiling as he lifted his hand in a similar wave to the one he’d given her outside her window in P-town. She felt a pang of excitement race through her and then realized she was standing there naked. A shiver of embarrassment slid over her and just as quickly melted away.
After a moment he went back to fighting the invisible opponent.
He was a fighter.
But boy did he know how to love a woman.
Twenty minutes later she’d showered and used his toothpaste on her finger as a toothbrush as best she could. She dressed in her clothes from the night before and headed out to greet the day and find the man who had set her head spinning. As she descended the stairs she realized that there were substantial railings on both sides that she hadn’t noticed last night. For his father, she assumed, and she wondered if he could still navigate the stairs.
How had she missed the enormous gaping hole that was cordoned off in the center of the house between the living room and the kitchen? And what on earth was it for? Outside, she realized just how consumed by their passion she must have been, because she also hadn’t noticed the wheelchair ramp beside the steps, or the heavy railings on the steps there, either. She walked around the back of the house and found more recently installed ramps, one leading to the patio doors, another to the first level of the deck, and it looked as though another unfinished ramp ran between the first and second levels of the deck. Sawyer had obviously been hard at work to prepare the house for his father, and that touched her even deeper.
She headed over the dunes. The sand held the chill of early morning beneath her bare feet. The sounds of the waves met her as she walked over the top of the dune and Sawyer came into focus. He faced the water, one powerful leg planted in the sand, his other foot rested against his inner thigh. From the rear she could see his elbows and knew his hands were pressed together. She had done yoga for many years, but was surprised to see a man as big and strong as Sawyer—a fighter—practicing something so passive. In her mind, she pictured fighters in constant motion, spirals of tension wound tightly together and bound by anger. Sawyer was proving her wrong at every turn.
In an effort not to distract him, she walked a little closer, then sank silently down to the sand and watched him. Sky was as taken with a hot male body as the next woman, but she was even more drawn to who a person was inside, and she liked who Sawyer was. When he’d said that it took strength to allow herself to be weak, it had resonated with her in a way that she hadn’t fully realized until later, when he’d slept soundly behind her, holding her in his arms. She’d felt feminine and protected. She’d always enjoyed her femininity, but all around her society sent messages that women were supposed to be strong.
As she watched Sawyer standing as stable as a mountain in front of her, the memory of his touch lingered on her skin.
She guessed she wanted to have her cake and eat it, too, because she wanted her own business and to know that she was building a future doing the things she enjoyed. She wanted to be respected and treated as the smart, creative person she was—but she also reveled in the feeling of being soft and feminine in Sawyer’s arms. Cared for and protected. The fact that she was getting tired of being protected by her brothers wasn’t lost on her. Maybe this was what happened when younger sisters began spreading their wings.
Sky wasn’t sure, but for now she had other things on her mind. Wanting to be protected was a world away from knowing the guy she spent the night with walked willingly into a boxing ring to punch and be punched. Her stomach knotted with the thought. She had been pushing away thoughts of his career for two days. Before they’d slept together she was able to separate what he did from who he was. She realized, as she sat there watching him with a gentle breeze sweeping off the bay and seabirds pecking at the sand, that she’d probably handled things backward. She should have given his career serious thoughtbeforeshe’d opened her body, and her heart, to him.
Now her thoughts were blurred by the memory of his touch, the sweet things he whispered in her ear, the look of want and need, appreciation and lust, that filled his eyes when they were making love.
SAWYER SENSED SKY’S presence before he heard the sweet little sigh that followed her deep inhalation. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone this morning, but he’d been too revved up to lie beside her. He’d already kept her up half the night, and he knew she probably had things she had to do today. If he had lain beside her for one minute more, he wouldn’t have been able to resist taking her in his arms and making love to her again. And after his run, when he’d seen her standing in the window, his body had reacted even more strongly. He’d had to rely on yoga just to center himself and calm down.
He lowered his foot to the sand and turned to find her gorgeous eyes trained on him, spurring a rush of sweet memories of their beautiful night together.
“Good morning,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her. He’d loved waking up with her in his arms and seeing her smiling face now. And the way she was looking at him, like she felt the same pull he did, made his chest feel as though it might burst.
“Hi,” she said in a breathy, soft voice.
He knew he’d always think of that voice as her morning voice. She spoke with the tone of a satisfied lover and the shiver of a new girlfriend full of hope.
“Thank you for the rose and the note.”
He draped an arm over her shoulder, and it felt natural when she rested her head against him. “I’m glad you liked them, because, Sky, Ireallylike you.”
“I really like you, too,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
She turned to face him, and she looked so beautiful that he had to press his mouth to hers again.
“Sorry,” he said as he brushed her hair over her shoulder. “You looked so beautiful, and you smell so good…and I’ve thought about kissing you all morning.”
Her lips curved into a smile that sparkled in her eyes. “You’re apologizing for kissing me? More, please.” She leaned forward with a sultry look in her eyes.
He could kiss her for hours, get lost in her taste, her warmth, and the sexy little sounds of appreciation that slipped from her lips. When they finally parted, it took a moment for her to come back into focus, and he could tell by her heavy lids that she was still hovering in a lustful cloud, too.
He pressed his hand to her cheek. “How can your kisses transport me so far away?” He tipped her chin up and kissed her again, softer this time. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Ask you?” she whispered, making him smile.
“You said you had something to ask me.”
