Page 33

CHAPTER 32

LIZZY

SURF’S UP

“Come on. Get up.” I straddle Clay and pat him on the cheek, watching his eyes slowly open.

Clay looks at me with a bewildered expression and looks around the room. “Shit, did I sleep in?”

He tries to get up but I push him back down in bed with both hands against his firm pecs.

“Nope. You didn’t.”

He squints at me, clearly still groggy. “Then why are you up and so damn perky already?” I glare at him, arching an eyebrow.

He’s right. I’m definitely perky. I felt so bad about pushing him about skiing last night that when I got up to get more water in the middle of the night, an idea hit me. One that I’m super excited about.

“Just because I don’t like getting up early doesn’t mean I can’t. Now come on, I want you to come out and try something with me today.” He eyes me skeptically and I drop my head back, groaning. “And I promise it’s not skiing.”

“Fine.” He reaches up, grabbing my hips and running his thumbs under the waistband of my shorts, caressing my hip bones. “But if you want me to get up, you’re going to have to get off of me.”

He pushes his hips up into me and I can feel his hard length through his boxers and my shorts. A quiet gasp escapes my lips. I hop off of him, and grab his hand, pulling him out of bed. “Save that thought for later. Now come on, we need to get started.”

He wipes his face with his other hand and swings his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

I smirk back at him. “Nope, because it’s my idea. So you’re going to love it.”

Clay Chapman in a wetsuit is sinfully unfair to look at. He only has it pulled up to his waist and his bare, chiseled abs and chest are on full display. My eyes shameless run from his shoulders to his tattooed pecs, following the thin trail of hair down his abs to the V just above the waist of the wetsuit.

This early in the morning, it’s a private display just for me on the sandy bank of the Deschutes River. We got out of the house before everyone else was up. I texted V that I was still hungover and was going to stay in for the day. She said no problem and they’ll see me at dinner. I’m just hoping she didn’t come up to my room to check on me after we left. And Clay, well, everyone already knows he wasn’t skiing and they would probably just assume he went out for a longer run this morning.

“Where the hell did you get wetsuits?” he asks, his deep voice still somewhere between irritated and confused about what we’re doing here.

“Jeez, I thought you were a morning person,” I tease, “and they’re TJ’s. He said we could use any of the gear when we got here, remember?”

He shakes his head and pulls the sleeves on before shimmying the rest of the way in. Already in my wetsuit, I walk over to him, and help him with this zipper.

“You look good in this.”

He glowers at me. “And why do I need this again?”

I smile back playfully and point over his shoulder. “Because we’re doing that. ”

He looks over his shoulder, palming his face when he sees the surf park and the two rental surfboards already propped up against a boulder by the river’s edge.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I press my lips together, trying to hide my grin and the giggles welling up inside. I shake my head. “Nope. Not kidding at all. We’re both going to get out of our comfort zone today.”

He runs his fingers through his dark, inky hair before turning back to look at the river again. I walk up beside him, leaning my head against his bicep.

“I’m sorry I asked you to ski yesterday. I get that there’s baggage there. But I want to see you have fun on this trip. I want to see you give up a little control.” I grab his hand and start walking towards the river, pulling him with me. “Besides, you’re a world class athlete, right? Should be easy for you.”

His frown morphs into a wicked, almost boyish grin at my tease. “Want to make a bet?”

I almost immediately regret my decision when it’s Clay’s turn. Did I think I actually had a chance to beat him in any sort of competition involving athleticism? No.

But I did want to see him enjoy himself and let go for once. That’s worth losing any bet, even if it involves naked morning yoga for a week. I’m pretty sure that's a win for both of us anyway.

My first attempt, if I could even call it that, was to surf the manmade waves in the sectioned off channel of the river. It did not end well. I instantly fell off the board, backwards into the cold water. Clay sprinted into the shallow water to make sure I was ok .

Now, I’m starting my second attempt, getting ready to stand up on the board.

“Come on, princess.” I look over at Clay sitting on a boulder at the edge of the water. He’s smirking and laughing at me, clearly enjoying watching me struggle. “Think about your prize when you win.” I’d be pissed at him if I wasn’t so glad to see this side of him, laughing and joking.

I toss my head back and groan, prompting another laugh from him. I try again, laying on the board before hopping up. A second passes and then another. I start to gain my footing and I even make a turn. Alright. For my first day trying this, I’m pleased with myself. This is sort of fun. I might want warmer water on the beach instead of central Oregon’s cold river water, but I would definitely try this again.

“There you go,” Clay says from his perch on the boulder.

I turn my head to smile at him, reaching up to wave back.

And there it is. I lose my balance, bite it, and fall into the water again.

He takes his time to swim out to me, grabbing the board, and checking on me again.

“That was better,” he teases, tucking my hair back over my shoulder. He reaches for my hand, pulling me to my feet in the shallow water.

“Let’s see you try,” I scoff playfully, shoving him in the chest, almost losing my balance again. He catches me and pulls me into him. Even through these wetsuits, I can feel his warmth.

He grins and gestures with his head towards the boulder he was sitting on. “Alright then. My turn.”

I wade over to the boulder, prop up my board, and hop up onto it to watch him.

I watch as he wades into the water. He looks focused as he lays on the board before he pops up into a standing crouch in one smooth motion .

He makes short, smooth graceful turns, left and right before losing his balance and falling into the water.

He pulls the board back to him, shakes his head in frustration and slaps his hands, sending beads of water flying. He lays back on the board, ready to try again.

“Not bad, Chapman,” I shout.

He looks at me and gives me a small smile before turning back to the waves, clearly focused. I can see that competitive side in him now.

He takes a second before popping back up into a low crouch. But this time, he doesn’t fall. He makes turn after turn, riding the wave.

Of course.

Of course, he’d be instantly good at this.

I stay silent watching him. The longer he does it, the more natural he looks. The intensity, the harsh scowls I’m used to, all of it fades away.

He keeps reacting to the waves, not trying to control them. He looks relaxed, calm, and confident. He looks like his brother, Tanner.

I hold my hands to my lips, trying to contain the smile spreading across my face. This is what I wanted.

And then I see it. The harsh man, the one who’s given up so much, slowly fades away, revealing what should have always been there. He smiles and laughs with each turn he makes.

I watch in pure glee. I’m in awe at the happy, beautiful, twenty-eight year old, enjoying life to the fullest. The smile on his face, with his dimples popping, is so warm and infectious that it would melt glaciers the same way it melts my heart.

Finally, he hops off his board, grabs it, and wades over to me.

He props the board up next to mine and stands between my legs facing me. I cross my arms and look up at him, trying to look annoyed but I can’t hide my excitement.

“Did you get bored or do you just want to rub it in that you’re better? ”

He shrugs. “Maybe a little of both.” He winks before leaning down to kiss me. I loop my arms over his shoulders, pulling him to me. My mouth opens and his tongue grazes mine before he pulls away. He presses his forehead to mine.

“Thank you.” His raspy voice is softer than I’m used to as he still catches his breath.

“For what?”

He lets out a long, ragged sigh. The rush of warm air across my cheek sends goosebumps over my damp, cool skin.

“For everything.”

We walk into the garage at TJ’s house, still in our damp wetsuits. Clay opens the door heading into the mudroom.

“Anyone home?” His voice booms through the house.

He waits a second and shrugs. “Guess no one’s here.”

“You sure?” I ask, hoping to have a moment, maybe a few moments, alone with him in the middle of the day.

He waves his hand and looks around the garage. “TJ’s car is gone and Tanner’s Sprinter isn’t in the driveway. I’m pretty sure it’s just us.”

He grins at me, clearly thinking the same thing judging by how fast he strides towards me. His hands find my hips, and his lips crash down, meeting mine. His mouth is taking and hungry. I’m just as wound up as him, wrapping a leg around his and pulling him tight against me.

“Now can we get these damn wetsuits off?” I pant.

“Yes, thank god.” His hands move from my hips to my zipper, pulling it down in a swift motion. He peels the wetsuit down my shoulders and off my arms. He freezes, his stare feral when he looks down at me. “That fucking bikini. I’ve thought about it so many damn times.”

I lean up to him, whispering against his cheek. “I thought you’d like that.” I remember the way his jaw dropped when I wore this bikini in the hot tub that first night at the condo.

He steps back, unzips his wetsuit and peels it off. His eyes never stop raking over me, leaving a trail of scorching flesh behind. But when he gets his wetsuit below his waist, it’s my turn to stare at the bulge in his board shorts that are straining to keep his length inside.

I bite my lip, already desperately aching between my thighs. I want him inside me. He grabs our wetsuits from the floor and hangs them along the drying hooks on the wall before striding back to me.

His mouth crashes down to mine again in a hot, messy, frantic kiss. His full lips are overpowering mine. His tongue slides over mine. He pulls back, staring at me with that emerald wildfire intensity that makes me clench my thighs in anticipation.

“Your room.” His voice is a command, not a question or suggestion. A command that I’m all too eager to follow, for now at least. Because I have one more surprise for him today.