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I grin at her request, loving the boldness of this woman who isn’t afraid to tell me what she wants.

“Well, I really hope there are some condoms on this boat,” I say, my finger now slowly trailing down her stomach and between her legs, brushing over the wet fabric of her bikini bottoms. “Because I don’t typically surf with them on me.”

Alana smiles, rolling over to the small built-in cabinet beside the bed. “There’s a stash in here,” she says, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out a strip of them.

I push aside the pinch in my chest at the fact she knows they are there and that she’s probably done this with other guys before me. This isn’t a thing between us, and I don’t want it to be either. I’m not interested in a relationship, and I’m pretty sure Alana isn’t either.

This is just sex.

I grab the strip from her hand and drop it on the bed beside her, our eyes locked as I now hook my finger into the crotch of her bikini bottoms, brushing my finger over her. She lets out a soft moan that is sexy as hell, and with a grin, I pull them down and off her legs. Her bikini top is next, and when she’s lying naked on the bed beneath me, I actually lick my lips at just how fucking delicious she looks.

This girl is like a wet fucking dream.

“Rough and hard, huh?” I ask, brow raised in question.

“Uh huh,” she says, her eyes dropping to the obvious bulge in my shorts.

Chuckling, I don’t give her the satisfaction of taking my shorts off just yet, instead resting my hands on her thighs as I push her legs wider, my mouth going dry when I open her up to me. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I can see it already.”

Alana bends one of her knees, a smirk on her face as she asks, “Wanna taste?”

“Hell yes,” I blow out before lowering my mouth and doing exactly that. The second her taste is on my tongue, I’m groaning, my mouth closing over her clit as I suck and lick relentlessly. She might want to get fucked hard, but she’s about to get devoured first.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out and I feel her fingers slide into my hair, tugging on it as she writhes beneath me.

With a grin, I place a hand on her hip, holding her in place as I continue my assault, licking and sucking hard as I push two fingers into her. She comes almost immediately, her loud groan filling the small space of the bedroom.

“Fuck, that didn’t take long,” I say with a grin, lifting my face from between her legs.

“You are ridiculously good at that,” she says, her chest heaving as she looks down at me.

With a laugh, I stand, pushing my shorts down and reaching for a condom. “I’m ridiculously good at fucking too,” I tell her.

Alana’s gaze is fixed on my dick, watching as I roll on the condom. “That sounds awfully cocky of you,” she says as her eyes lift to meet mine.

With a grin, I crawl up her body until I’m hovering over her, hands on either side of her head. “Want me to prove it to you?” I ask, my eyes on her mouth.

She smiles, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “Uh huh,” she says, nodding.

I lift my hand, pulling her lip free with my thumb before I lean down and press a kiss to her mouth. I intend for it to be quick, but Alana’s hand curls around the back of my neck, holding me to her as she teases me with her tongue, tasting herself on me as my own lips part and I deepen the kiss.

Fuck, this girl.

“Hard and rough, right?” I eventually say, my mouth against hers.

“Yep,” she says, grinning.

I straighten so I’m on my knees, giving her a wicked grin before flipping her over so she’s lying on her stomach. Grabbing her hips, I yank her back so she’s on all fours, her arse pressed against my dick. Leaning forward, so my stomach is resting against her back, I gently bite her shoulder as I whisper, “Then hold on.” Before thrusting deep inside her in one powerful stroke.

“Fuck,” she cries, her hands clenching the sheets.

I don’t give her a chance to get ready, my fingers digging into her hips as I start to thrust, pounding into her with relentless strokes, each time feeling like I go even deeper and deeper. It feels so fucking good. I don’t think I’m going to last very long either and when my gaze drops, watching as I sink inside her, I have to fight the urge to come.

“Jesus, you feel good,” I grunt, my hips slapping against her arse.

Alana glances back at me, a sly smile on her face as she lifts a hand, moving it between her legs. “You okay back there?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I breathe out, the word getting caught in my throat as she starts to touch herself, her pussy already clenching around my dick in a way that feels exquisite. “Fuck,” I groan, never stopping my thrusts as Alana now rubs furiously at her clit, almost like the two of us are racing each other to the finish line.

But then her eyes close and I feel her start to clench around me, her back arching as she pushes her arse back against my hips and lets out a low moan.

“God, I’m gonna come,” I growl, my grip tightening as I pound into her, feel her coming undone on my cock. It’s enough to send me flying, my balls tightening as I suddenly explode inside her, coming harder than I think I’ve ever come in my life. “Holy shit,” I groan, collapsing onto her, my front hot and sweaty pressed against her back.

Alana chuckles, her hand falling back to the mattress as she holds herself up beneath me. “Yeah.”

With a grin, I press my lips to her shoulder, tasting the salt of the ocean on her skin. “Rough enough for you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

My smile widens, my teeth grazing against her skin. “Ridiculously good enough for you?”

She laughs now, collapsing onto the bed before rolling over so she’s facing me. “I don’t know. I might need another go to really be sure.”

I pull off the condom, dropping it on the floor as I smile down at her. “If you insist,” I say, lowering my body to hers as I get ready for round two.

“You want me to drop you somewhere?” Alana eventually asks.

I roll my head on the pillow, my eyes finding hers. She’s smiling, her lips swollen from all the hungry kisses I’ve given her. “Back at that beach would be good,” I say.

Neither of us moves, though. Instead, we just lie here watching each other. I’m half tempted to ask for her number so we can do this again sometime, but I know that’s not what this is.

It’s just sex. Nothing more.

“Sure,” she says, sitting up, her long brown hair all messy as it falls around her shoulders. “You wanna get going?”

I nod, even though a part of me would love to stay right here with her. “Yep,” I say instead, rolling off the bed.

We dress in silence, the two of us sneaking glances at each other as we pull on our swimmers. When we’re done, I follow Alana out of the boat and back onto the deck toward her car.

As we get closer, I notice her board on the roof, the funky design on the top that I didn’t notice when we were surfing. “Your board,” I say, gesturing toward it.

“Yeah?” she asks, stopping by the side of the car.

I crouch down, trying to get a better look at the design, which is hard given it’s face down on the racks. I tilt my head, my eyes moving over the picture of a girl surfing, a smile on her face as she holds up the bird. Beneath the image are the words I’ve been dying to see on one of my own boards.

Olsen Custom Boards.

“Fuck, you have a custom Olsen board?” I ask, straightening.

“Uh huh,” she says, holding a hand up to the sun as she looks up at me.

I turn back to her, notice the way her smile has disappeared now, replaced with a sadness in her eyes. “How? Where?” I ask. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on one of these for ages.”

Alana smiles again, the sadness disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. “Yeah, they’re hard to come by,” she says, unlocking the car. I watch as she climbs in, not answering my question.

I walk around to the passenger side, still confused because to me, it’s on the wrong side of the car. “So, how’d you get one?” I ask as I slide into the passenger seat.

She shoots me a quick glance as she starts the car. “It was a gift,” she says.

“A gift?”

“Yep,” she replies with a nod.

“Fuck, must have been from someone important,” I say, once again ignoring that weird feeling in my chest at the thought of her with someone else.

Just sex.

Alana reverses out of the parking spot, the windows open and her hair blowing in the breeze. At first, I think she isn’t going to answer me, even though it wasn’t really a question I asked, more of a statement. But just as she pulls onto the main road, she gives me another quick look, before murmuring. “Very.”

It doesn’t take us long to get back to the beach, Alana pulling onto the side of the road, the engine still running and telling me she isn’t going to be joining me back on the waves. I only got to surf once before our incredibly hot hook up, and I’m already itching to get back out there.

“You, uh, you wanna join me?” I ask, jerking a thumb at the ocean. “Catch some more waves?”

She smiles, shaking her head. “Can’t, sorry. Got some things to do this afternoon.”

“Sure, no problem,” I say, pushing away my disappointment. “So, I guess…I don’t know, I’ll see you around?” I ask, again wondering if I should just ask her for her number.

“Yeah, I guess you will,” she says, head tipped to the side as she studies me.

I let out a laugh, shaking my head at how weird this all is. “Okay, well, thanks for a great morning,” I tell her, opening the car door.

She laughs, pushing her hair back as she says, “No, thank you. You were right about the ridiculously good part.”

With a grin, I can’t resist leaning over and planting a hard kiss on her mouth. “Told you,” I whisper against her lips before I get out of the car.

I grab my board from the roof and then stand by the side of the road, watching, waiting for her to drive off. Just as she starts to inch forward, she stops, leaning over to the open passenger window. “Flynn?”

“Yeah?” I ask, a grin on my face as I crouch down to meet her gaze.

She tips her head in the direction of the surf shop across the road, the place where I’m staying for the next couple of weeks. “If you’re after a custom Olsen, you should try The Pipe Dream.”

My grin widens as I give her a quick salute with two fingers. “Will do.”

Alana gives me one last smile before she drives off, leaving me standing by the side of the road, wondering if I’m ever going to see her again.

I spend a couple of hours surfing, loving the way the ocean feels against my skin, the thrill of catching a wave never getting old. Despite everything that’s happened, I still really fucking love to surf. Surfing has never been the issue; it’s competing that fucks with me.

By the time I head back to my accommodation, the surf shop has closed. There are no hours of operation on the front door, and I make a mental note to go in there first thing tomorrow morning, see if I can’t get myself a custom board.

Then I head back to my cottage, showering before falling into bed, my night filled with a restless sleep that’s part jet lag and part dreams of Alana and all the things we did together.

The next morning, I wake late, the sun streaming through the open blinds that I must have forgotten to close last night. My stomach rumbles and I roll out of bed and head into the kitchen, grateful for the welcome package Nate mentioned.

Opening the fridge, I grab a bottle of guava juice, drinking it straight from the bottle as I stand at the open fridge. When I’m done, I spy a basket of fruit on the kitchen bench and I grab an apple before pulling on a T-shirt and some board shorts and heading over to the shop.

I walk around to the front, smiling when I see the lights are on and the shop is open. Pushing open the door, I hear the bell above it ring.

“Be with you in a sec,” comes a female voice from somewhere in the shop.

I don’t answer, instead taking my time as I look around. I barely noticed it when I checked in yesterday.

I smile, recognizing some of the drawings from my cottage. Only now, they are emblazoned on T-shirts and hats. In the corner of the shop, near the counter, I see a rack of Olsen boards, a sign above them that says “Olsen Custom Boards”. There’s another sign too, one that indicates they aren’t for sale, and again, I wonder what the hell I have to do to get my hands on one. As I run my eyes over them, they’re all custom designs and are also covered in Nate’s drawings.

Fuck, this guy is the artist for Olsen?

This means he did Alana’s board too.

Which means maybe he knows her.

My heart pounds in my chest as I take in the designs, my fingers itching to pick them up.

“Okay, sorry about that. What can I do for you?”

I turn at the voice, a grin curling my lips at the woman who now stands in front of me. She’s wearing a tank top that also bears the name of the shop.

“Alana, hey,” I say, unable to wipe the smile off my face. “Fancy running into you again.”