Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Bryce
I get to the beach early, despite the late night. Late nights and early mornings are kind of my thing, at least if I want to catch some decent waves.
But despite the bite of the cold water, the crash of the waves stripping the last of my hangover away, I can’t seem to shake the thought of Claire.
It doesn’t help that my phone is blowing up with notifications.
Turns out someone captured most of what happened on video, including the kiss.
And the bit where I said I was Claire’s boyfriend.
It seems we’ve gone viral, something I feel the need to apologise to her for. Jeff has already called me, too.
“What the fuck, Bryce? I’ve just read on RideWorld that you have a girlfriend now? I know I mentioned about you getting one, but it’s a bit of a quick slide from a threesome to a girlfriend in twenty-four hours, even for you.”
“So should I ditch her, then?” I enjoy screwing with Jeff at the best of times, but something about how he’s laughing about the Claire situation is rubbing me the wrong way.
“No fucking way, mate,” he snaps. “Sponsors are still making noises about dropping you, so if you bounce this girl for someone else, especially after the week you’ve already had, you’ll be fucked.
What you should do is bring her to Torquay next week and we’ll get some staged pap shots.
Better still, take her out somewhere you’ll both be seen. A proper girlfriend roll-out.”
“What if she doesn’t want to come with me? What if I’m just helping out a friend?”
“Mate, I don’t care what’s happening, as long as it looks good. You’re the one who said you were her boyfriend. Besides, I’m sure you can talk her into it.”
I hang up the phone. Shit. This is not good. I couldn’t help myself when I saw Claire being hassled by that asshole and I’m not sorry I stepped in. But now an idea is forming in my mind.
I dismiss it as madness. But it keeps coming back to me, even as I catch a few waves, riding the curling blue water into shore.
Then I spot her. Claire. She’s sitting cross-legged on the sand, long tanned legs bare to the morning breeze, a light blue dress blowing against her curves, wind whipping her long dark hair.
I leave my board with the rest of my stuff, leaning it on one side in the sand.
I can keep an eye on it from the water, and besides, any dickhead who wants to take it won’t get far with it.
The board is custom and has my name on it. So, I wander over to her.
She has her eyes closed, her soft pink lips parted. My groin stirs at the sight of her, so utterly fucking kissable. Christ. I need to rein this in.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Her big blue eyes open, and she stares up at me. I offer my hand, pulling her to her feet, resisting the urge to take her in my arms.
Then she takes off the dress she’s wearing.
Holy fuck.
Her body is stunning. Small waist, lush curving hips and long thighs, and those amazing tits, all barely contained within a tiny white string bikini.
Her nipples are hard against the flimsy fabric.
My cock stirs in response. I’m staring and she knows it, lifting her chin and hitting me with that defiance again, like a fucking match to my flame.
“What?”
I have to give her a rash top. I’m not kidding about her being naked in just a few minutes, whether it’s me or the ocean that does it. Not that I’m the kind of guy who would pull a move like that.
Once we’re in the water the cold takes some of my arousal away, but it comes back again when she emerges with my damp rash top clinging to her curves, her long dark hair slicked back, like some sort of water goddess.
I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and I’m about to kiss her again, when a wave hits us both.
I take her out deeper, before I can do anything rash. But then she wraps herself around me like seaweed and it’s all I can do to hold back. Her tits are pressed against me, her legs around my waist. Thank fuck I’m wearing a wetsuit and not just boardshorts – my dick is as hard as a rock.
But she’s obviously scared, and the need to make her feel safe overcomes my baser desires. I wrap my arms around her.
“I won’t let you go.”
I mean it, too. Something about her being close to me feels so natural, as though she’s a missing piece of me. So, I float with her and point out a few things of interest on the coast. Gradually she relaxes, but she doesn’t let go. I’m okay with that.
“How about that place?” I point to one of the houses sitting on the cliff, below the curving line of road. “I love to look at the houses along here. Imagine what it would be like to live in that one.”
She’s quiet, those ocean-blue eyes deeper than I’ve seen them, looking past me to where I’m pointing. It’s a timber house, long and low and shaded by gum trees at the back, huge windows and a deck along the front offering what I’m sure are stupendous views.
“I don’t need to imagine,” she says after a moment. “It’s my house.”
So the girl I saw the other day, when I was out here – the one with the long dark hair – was her.
“Your house?” My mind is whirring. I shift, moving her against me, tightening my hold around her. “I thought you said Anna’s wasn’t your shop?”
“It’s not.” Her dark brows come together, her pink mouth a perfect kissable pout. “I just work there.”
“Is it your parents’ place then?” Another intriguing layer to this girl. There’s no way she can afford a multi-million-dollar house on a shop assistant wage.
Her expression darkens further. “Sort of.”
She’s tense again. I wonder what I’ve said.
“I’m sorry if—”
“Can we go in?” she says. “I’m getting chilly.”
“Sure,” I say, after a moment, though I’m unwilling to relinquish her.
The ocean feels colder as she leaves my arms, and I stay close to her as we ride the waves back to shore.
For all her protests she’s a natural swimmer, letting the waves carry her.
But she doesn’t say another word to me, and I hope I haven’t fucked things up.
We walk up the beach to our stuff, and she peels off my rash top.
The white bikini is now slightly transparent with a hint of darkness where her thighs meet.
She might as well be naked. I try not to stare, and I’m kind of glad when she shrugs on the towelling dress again.
She wrings out the rash top and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” she says.
I wait for her to say goodbye, to disappear out of my life forever.
But instead she takes a towel from her bag and lays it on the sand, sitting down on it.
After staring at her for a second, I hastily peel down the top of my wetsuit, leaving it bunched around my hips, and tug off my rash top.
I grab my own towel and sit next to her, my knees bent, arms resting on them.
I don’t know what’s going to happen next.
It’s a long time since I’ve felt like this with a woman, and it’s exciting.
But she’s still quiet.
“Claire, have I said something to upset you?” It’s suddenly vitally important that I know.
“No.” Her mouth twists, and she looks down, playing with a shell on the sand. I watch her slender fingers, the way damp tendrils of hair snake across her shoulders, and again the urge to pull her close comes over me.
“It’s not you,” she said. “It’s just…” She finally looks at me. “My parents are dead. The house was theirs, and I live in it now.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Why would you?” Her brows come together. “It’s old news now. Most people have forgotten.”
“Old news?”
Her throat moves before she answers. “My parents were killed in a car accident on the Great Ocean Road, not far from here. They’d just finished building the house and were down here for the weekend…
A drunk driver hit them and they all went over the edge, into the ocean.
” She blinks, shaking her head. “It was their dream to live here so, once everything was settled, I decided to live in it for them.”
I don’t know what to say. “That’s awful,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.” I pause. Old news. The story comes back to me. “Fuck. Was it Blake Patterson?”
She nods.
Yeah, I remember it now. It happened about three years ago.
Blake was a hothead, an old-school surfer, did all right on the circuit until he became too much of a pisshead.
His death hadn’t come as a surprise, to be honest – he’d been pushing it too hard for too long.
But the fact he took two people with him was big news down here for a while.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, an ache in my chest. “So, is it just you who…?”
She nods again. “I’m an only child. So were my parents. A few distant relatives but luckily my folks had locked everything down so no one who might have thought of contesting things could get anywhere. It’s like they knew.”
“More like they were trying to protect you. How old were you?”
“Nineteen. Just started university. But when it happened…”—she stares out to sea—“I dropped out. I could have stayed in Melbourne, I guess. But there were too many memories in our family home. Coming here, to a house they’d barely lived in, felt like a new start, while at the same time continuing what they wanted. And I love the house.”
“It’s a beautiful place.” My heart aches for her, for how young she must have been.
“Do you want to come and see it?”
“What?” I’m getting lost again in her ocean eyes. This girl is doing things to me. I want to do things to her, as well.
“The house. Come up and have a coffee with me.” One corner of her mouth curves, but sadness still lurks in her gaze. I want to hold her until it goes away.
Instead, I agree to go to her house.