Page 57

‘We need to make a stop,’ Leo tells the driver.

I turn to him in surprise. It’s been a long drive from the ball back to Torquay, and although we didn’t stay long enough at the event for it to be that late, it’s still a long night when you’re meant to be up at dawn to surf.

‘Of course,’ the driver says, glancing in the rear-view mirror. ‘Where to, Mr Silva?’

‘Bells Beach.’

‘Leo,’ I say frowning at him, ‘please don’t tell me you’re planning on surfing right now. We should get home.’

‘I need a moment there.’

That’s it: that’s all the explanation he gives me.

The driver nods and makes a turning. Leo looks studiously out of the window and we fall back into silence.

We haven’t spoken much on the journey, both of us absorbing what just happened, letting it all sink in as the adrenaline from the confrontation ebbs away.

The only time he let go of my hand was so that he could take off his jacket, folding it onto the middle seat before he reached to thread his fingers through mine again, his jacket propping up his elbow.

I’ve been shooting him concerned glances that he’s ignored.

That’s okay, I know he’ll talk to me about what went down when he’s ready.

I stood up to Michelle Martin, a feat that I’m proud of, but will no doubt have its own repercussions.

I’m not afraid, though. I know that, come what may, I’ve done the right thing.

That’s what matters. I’d rather suffer the consequences of that then look back and wish I’d done more.

But for Leo, there’s so much to unpack. He’s spent his life trying to please her; even when he resented her, he was still trying to make her proud.

Now, he’s got to come to terms with the fact that it was all in vain, that even now, she refuses to believe in him, and that ultimately, she would risk their relationship to better her public image.

I can’t imagine what that’s like. I can’t imagine how that feels.

So, I don’t ask any questions or plead with him to talk. We sit in the back of the car in silence as it trundles towards the Bells Beach car park. When we arrive, Leo asks the driver to wait.

‘We won’t be long,’ he says, as he opens the door to slide out.

The ‘we’ is welcome because I wasn’t actually sure if he wanted me to come with him, but if I had any doubt, he squashes it quickly by appearing at my side of the car to open the door for me, holding out his hand to help me clamber out.

As we stroll in the dark, I link my hand through his arm.

‘Do I need to take off my shoes?’ I ask.

He smiles. ‘Why would you need to take off your shoes?’

‘Have you seen these heels? They’re like daggers. Not very practical on a beach.’

‘When have you ever been one for practicality?’

‘When I’m wearing shoes that cost more than my rent. If you think I’m getting a speck of sand on these, you have another thing coming.’

He laughs, shaking his head. ‘We’re not going down to the beach.’

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, reaching for the bannister as we start going down one of the sets of wooden steps.

‘I’m sure.’

With no idea what’s going on here, I grip his arm for balance as we slowly descend until I realise that we’re stopping at one of the viewing platforms.

I drop my hand from his arm and watch him as he goes to the edge of the fenced barrier, leaning his elbows on it and clasping his hands in front of him.

His hair whipping about in the breeze, he takes a deep breath in through his nose.

In the darkness, you can just make out the waves hitting the beach, the sound of them rolling and crashing in a rhythm of their own.

For the first time tonight, he looks at ease again.

Hanging back at the steps, I smile, giving him a moment on his own over there.

After a while, he glances back to me over his shoulder. I take it as my cue.

My heels clacking along the wooden boards of the decking, I come to stand next to him, resting my forearms on the fencing.

I sneak glances at him, admiring his profile in the dim light of the evening: his full eyelashes, the slope of his nose, the groove above his top lip, the swell of his bottom one, the strong line of his jaw.

He looks so handsome, so strong and masculine with the crisp, white shirt stretching against the curve of his biceps, his bow tie undone, hanging around his collar.

I wonder at how lucky I am to have found him.

And how close I came to letting him go. I exhale a shaky breath.

‘This place,’ he says softly, gazing ahead of him, ‘it has such a hold on me.’

‘A good or bad one?’

‘Bit of both.’ He shoots me a weak smile. ‘I can’t work out if I love or hate it. It’s where I found my love of surfing, and it’s where I almost lost everything.’

I press my lips together. We fall back into silence, listening to the water. It’s so quiet out here, it feels like there’s no one for miles. Just me and him.

‘I think it will always be a part of you,’ I say quietly. ‘I don’t think that’s a bad thing.’

He nods slowly. ‘Every morning I’ve surfed it this contest, I’ve been afraid.’

‘You haven’t looked it.’

‘I’ve felt it.’

‘That’s good.’ I nudge his elbow. ‘You’re supposed to be afraid of the ocean, remember? You taught me that. It’s, like, surfing 101.’

He laughs lightly. ‘I keep thinking that if I can win this contest, I can wipe away the memories of what happened. But… I can’t.

My mum reminded me tonight how weak I can be, especially in comparison to that,’ he nods his head in the direction of the water, ‘and how quickly it can all go wrong.’ He swallows, frowning as he looks out.

‘Maybe I’m kidding myself that I can overcome my fear here. ’

‘Leo,’ I begin, twisting my body to face him, ‘you can’t block out memories. It doesn’t work like that. But you can make new ones. Your mum is wrong about you. Anyone can climb to the top, but to fall and start climbing again, that’s where the real courage is.’

‘My courage seems to be wavering,’ he admits, his voice hoarse.

‘Yeah, well, you are human,’ I say with a wry smile. ‘You know, in my interview with your dad, he was talking about how after one wave, there’s always another one coming.’

‘That’s kind of… obvious.’ He snorts. ‘Good one, Dad.’

‘Hey, you’re missing the point,’ I say sternly, raising my eyebrows at him.

‘He was saying that there’s always another chance .

It’s not over because you make a mistake.

You have the choice to go again.’ I reach out to grip his arm.

‘You’ve chosen to surf Bells Beach again, Leo; do you know how brave that is? It’s fucking brave.’

He breaks into a smile, his eyes dropping. ‘I don’t feel brave.’

‘You are,’ I tell him. I reach out to take his hand, turning it so his wrist is facing up and bringing it to my lips, pressing a kiss to his scar. He sighs as I let his hand fall again. ‘And you were brave tonight too. What you said to Michelle, telling her how you felt – that took a lot of guts.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t the brave one,’ he says, turning to face me, one arm leaning on the rail. ‘I think you might snag that award. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to my mum.’

‘She doesn’t scare me.’

‘No one scares you.’

‘You do.’

His eyes twinkle at me as he smiles. I swallow, gazing up at him.

He reaches out to brush my hair from my face as the breeze does its best to destroy my updo, and dips his head to give me a soft, affectionate kiss.

I wrap my arms around his neck, wanting him close, pressing my body into his.

That musky sandalwood cologne of his smells so good, it sends heat pulsating between my legs and when I part his lips with my tongue, a groan slips from his mouth.

His kiss becomes more demanding, rougher and urgent, his strong hands roaming down the sides of my dress, following the curve of my waist, hips, back up to my ribs and round to the base of my spine.

God, I love the way he touches me, how he makes me feel as though he wants to cover and devour every inch of me.

It’s cold out here this late, the thin satin of my dress not doing much against this breeze, but his hands are warming my goose-pimpled skin, the strokes of his tongue igniting flares of heat between my legs.

I moan into his mouth.

The sound fires up something inside of him and when he breaks the kiss, his eyes flare at me, dark, wild and searing. As our breaths come shallow and fast, I watch his gaze drop to my cleavage, the plunge design of the dress working its magic.

‘Do you like this dress, Leo?’ I ask quietly.

He traces a finger down the faint swell of my breasts on show, his jaw clenched tight.

‘You know I do,’ he says, his fingertip toying with the edge of the fabric.

I trail soft kisses up his cheekbone, my lips lingering at his ear.

‘Then fuck me in it,’ I whisper.

He tenses. To make sure he knows I’m serious, I take a step backwards to lean against the wooden fencing of the viewing point.

His hands resting loosely on my hips, he watches as I drop my hand to the side of my thigh and I slowly begin to lift the skirt of my dress.

The cool breeze hits my leg as it gradually becomes more and more exposed, the material drifting up higher and higher as I gather it in my hand.

My heart is racing, my nipples hardening as I witness his eyes darken with desire and the muscle in his jaw tick as he clenches.

I love watching him like this. Watching him want me.

When I’ve lifted it high enough, his hand falls to the opening I’ve created and slips beneath the hem.

Relinquishing control, I let go of the dress, leaving it draped across his wrist, my hands gripping into the shoulders of his shirt.

I feel like my whole body is throbbing as his fingers follow the thin string waistband of my black thong, brushing over the flimsy strip of lace between my legs to feel how damp it is.

‘God, Iris,’ he breathes, as I dig my teeth into my bottom lip.

His fingers slide beneath the fabric, circling over my clit.

I gasp at the jolts of pleasure, begging him hoarsely for more.

A surge of heat gathers beneath his fingers as his other hand holds me still at the hip, his head dipping to my neck to kiss and nip at my skin.

When he sinks his fingers into me, I close my eyes and bite back a moan, knowing that we can’t be too loud.

Oh God . If he keeps going like this, I don’t know if I can be quiet.

As the pressure builds, I arch my body into his touch, letting my arms drop from his shoulders to lie along the top rail of the fence barrier behind me, my fingernails clawing and digging into the wood. I don’t care if I get splinters, I don’t care about anything, he’s too good at this.

‘You look so fucking hot,’ he growls, his mouth devouring mine, my hands coming back to the sides of his head, raking through his hair down his neck and making him groan.

‘Fuck, Leo, you’re making me close,’ I whisper breathlessly.

Spiralling as he increases the pressure on my clit, I frantically reach for his belt, fumbling at the buckle.

His mouth captures my short, raspy breaths, while I grapple with the button and zip of his trousers, his erection straining against the material.

Gripping the waistband of his boxers, I yank them down with his trousers, nudging his hand out the way so I can wrap mine around his cock, feeling it thick and hard in my grasp, my muscles clenching and fluttering at the thought of him inside me.

His hands gripping the back of my thighs, he hoists me up, propping me against the fencing, while my legs spread to accommodate him, winding around his waist, my dress fully hitched up over my hips.

He’s so fucking strong, I feel so light and secure up here, knowing there’s no chance in hell he would ever let me fall.

Moving one hand to press against the bottom of my spine, he uses the other to guide himself to my entrance, pushing my thong aside and thrusting deeply into me.

I gasp, my blazing core winding tighter as he pulls back and rocks into me again, finding a faster pace, his fingers sinking into my arse as he holds me in place, his muffled groans and pants at my neck driving me wild.

‘God, you feel amazing,’ he mutters, driving into me harder and faster.

My muscles tighten and tremor, the pressure builds, the angle, the pace, the fullness sending rippling waves of pleasure through my body.

‘Oh fuck ,’ he says through gritted teeth as I near the edge, clenching around him.

The pressure inside me erupts and I cling to him as I come, consumed by the sensation, biting into his shoulder as my body squeezes and convulses around him.

My orgasm breaks whatever resolve is left in him and I capture his groan with my mouth as he releases.

He drops his head to my neck, his thrusts slowing, his breathing warm on my shoulder.

As my daze clears, the setting starts to come back into focus.

Lifting his head, he kisses me softly, once, twice, before he pulls out, carefully lowering my heels back onto the decking.

We sort ourselves out, making sure we look respectable.

Wrapping his arm around my waist, we start to make our way back up the steps, both of us grinning like idiots, cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled, hearts glowing.

‘I kind of forgot our driver was waiting,’ I remark as we near the car park. ‘This is going to be an expensive taxi fare.’

‘It is. Good thing Jenna organised it. Actually, that’s a great point: since it will be my mum picking up the bill—’ He stops, turning to jab his head back in the direction of the viewing platform. ‘Want to wait a few minutes and go again?’

Bursting into laughter, I tug his hand and we reluctantly head back to the car, grinning like idiots the entire way home.