36. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Joss
M y flight into Sydney is as smooth as can be, and I’m so appreciative of the ease with which everyone disembarks so that I can finish up on the plane and get home. Wes mentioned a surprise, so I’ve been filled with a nervous anticipation all day. Hopefully whatever it is includes us staying home so I can climb him like a tree the moment I walk in the door.
I check my phone as I walk off the plane and see his name there.
Wes
I’m waiting for you! Come see me!
Me
Aren’t you the impatient one.
Wes
I’m always impatient when it comes to you.
I giggle and can’t help but squirm at the butterflies in my stomach. I have never experienced anything like how I feel with him. He makes me better, makes me want to be better, makes me want things I’ve never let myself want before. I’m smiling like a fool, not paying attention as I walk out past security in the direction of the taxi rank, when I run into a firm chest.
“Crap, I’m—” I break off when I look up and into the face of the only man who’s ever taken my breath away. “Wes!” I throw myself into his arms, my rolling bag clattering to the floor behind me. “When you said you were waiting for me, I assumed you meant at home.”
I pull back to look at him, taking in every detail, ensuring he hasn’t changed in the week since I last saw him. His beard is trimmed and I can see his dimples peeking through, making the butterflies feel more like the beating wings of a dragon. He’s also wearing that freaking baseball cap, the one from his first day in Sydney. It sits backward on his head, giving me an unobstructed view of his sapphire blue eyes.
My feet dangle above the floor, and his arms around my waist may be pulling my skirt indecently high up my thighs, but I don’t have a care in the world. I’m in his arms and he’s looking at me with so much love that I could melt into a puddle on the floor.
“You know what they say when you assume, Grey?” He chuckles and brings those perfect lips to mine. I sink into him, oblivious to the airport full of people milling around, and grip his hair under his hat to bring him closer. I said I wanted to climb him like a tree, and that’s what I’m about to do if we don’t stop soon. I break the kiss, my breathing fast and shallow, while Wes slowly lowers me back to the ground. I feel a little wobbly on my legs, like I’m standing on stilts, but he holds firm to my waist, keeping me close.
“Damn. That was…” He clears his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I mean, the whole ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ thing must be true, because… damn.” He lets out a low laugh, and I feel it rumble through my whole body. My fingers run along his jaw, then down his neck to his shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” I breathe.
“I couldn’t wait a single minute longer to see you, and I told you I have a surprise.” He waggles his eyebrows and I pick up on his giddy excitement. I can feel it in the way he moves, the way he smiles so big and wide.
“Okay…” I draw out the word. “So are you going to tell me what this surprise is?”
He reaches around me to grab my bag off the floor. Then, grabbing me around the waist again, he pulls me into his side and leads me toward the doors.
“Now what would be the fun in that?” He leans down and presses one more quick kiss to my temple, leaving me to wonder what on earth he has planned.
When Wes said he had a surprise, I never would have guessed it would entail a long drive up the coast to Blueys Beach. He apparently rebooked the trip we were supposed to take two months ago for this weekend so that we could get away from the city and enjoy our first mini-break as a couple.
When we got into the ute at the airport and I spotted the boards in the back along with our overnight bags, I was speechless. Yet nothing compared to how stunned I was when a private beach bungalow waited for us at the end of our long drive.
I take in every detail of the gorgeous space, the wood floors warm against my bare feet. Inside the expansive room, there’s a large king-sized bed with a gauzy white canopy overhang like something out of a fairytale. Opposite the bed is a small sitting room and kitchen space, filled with late afternoon sunlight.
The coastal-inspired décor—all tans, mints, and blues accented with furniture made from driftwood or wicker—makes the room feel light and airy. There’s a decadent clawfoot tub in the bathroom, and there’s already a picture forming in my mind of me sinking into it. A full week of flights and hotel room beds has me sighing at the idea.
“Beautiful,” I say, scanning the room one more time.
“I agree,” Wes husks, and when I bring my eyes to his they’re not looking at the room. They’re glued to me.
When I walk back to him and snake my arms around his middle, I tilt my head back and smile at him. There’s no disguising the look of desire in his gaze as he rakes it over my body. I’m still in my uniform and want nothing more than to strip it off, but I’m caught in his orbit and don’t think I can move.
His hands slide up along my outer thighs, to my hips, and then my waist. Each inch a slow tease of his warm skin through the fabric. I shiver when his hands reach my rib cage and his smile turns wicked, both dimples popping under that beard that I’ve come to love so much.
“What do you say, Grey? Shall we see if the bed is to your liking?” Without warning, he picks me up and within two strides tosses me onto the bed like I'm feather-light and not a whole person. I squeal when the soft mattress catches my fall, my head landing amongst the many pillows.
Wes’s laugh is carefree, but his eyes are dark, hooded, and the smoldering look he gives me makes everything inside me tighten in anticipation. He kneels at the end of the bed, first reaching up to remove his hat, tossing it across the room where it lands with a thud, and then to pull off his shirt with one hand. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. There’s so much more than the physical attraction between us now, but damn if I don’t love to look at this man. Damn if our unrelenting love for each doesn’t make that attraction burn brighter. I want him. I want him forever.
As he climbs over me on the bed, he whispers in my ear, “I want you forever too, Joss.”
I guess I said that last thought out loud. It doesn’t matter though, because there’s no more thinking after that. There’s only touch, only breaths, only us as we let our hearts and bodies do the talking.
The next morning, we wake up to the sound of waves on the beach and slide into our bathers without saying a word. The quiet is part of what makes an early morning surf so beautiful. There’s no need to fill the silence. You just allow the crisp, cool water to wake up your senses and your mind in whatever way you need on that particular day.
Only once we’ve paddled out and are bobbing on the waves does Wes finally speak. “I love you, Joss.” The words are a caress, filled with so much feeling, and when I look over, I see it all detailed in his features as well. The softness to his eyes, the adoring smile tugging at his lips.
“I love you too, Wes.”
The sun continues to rise behind us as we take turns paddling into the waves and riding to our hearts’ content. By the time we’re spent and boneless, lying in the sand outside our bungalow, the sun has fully risen and my stomach is screaming for sustenance. I flip onto my side, taking in every inch of exposed skin on the man beside me. It’s warmer here, in the throes of spring, so Wes is in nothing but a pair of navy boardshorts.
The way they hug his backside makes them my favorite. They’ve pulled up a few inches on his legs, and I can see the entirety of the scars that surround his knee and extend up his muscular thigh. I feel incredibly honored that he chose to share the story of how he got them. That he trusted me with them, trusted me to hold those broken pieces of him.
I scooch closer to him on the sand, letting my hand trace over the scar at his shoulder where a piece of metal lodged itself in the crash. His body jerks at the contact. “Sorry,” I say, but he’s already relaxed again into the sand as I move my fingers up and down the raised skin. A low hum emanates from his chest and he catches my hand in his .
“What are you thinking right now?” he asks.
“I was thinking about how badly I wanted to know all your scar stories when we first met. Now I do.”
He brings my fingers to his lips, letting his eyes fall closed as he lies relaxed in the sand.
He begins to say something but stops when my stomach grumbles loudly. His laugh puffs out against my hand, and I giggle next to him.
“I was going to say we should go get cleaned up in the outdoor shower where you could more thoroughly examine all of my scars… but maybe I need to feed you first.”
He shifts so he’s lying on his side facing me, our eyes locked on each other, grey to blue, and I have the briefest thought of what the eyes of our children would be like if we ever have them. It startles me, not because I don’t want kids but because I’ve never been at a place in my life where thinking of them felt like anything but a faraway possibility.
“Breakfast, yeah?” he asks, his hand coasting over my stomach when it grumbles again.
“Yeah,” I breathe, but instead of moving to get up, I press my lips to his. He groans, letting his fingers tighten around my waist for just a moment before he pulls back.
“We better stop.” He laughs against my lips. “Otherwise I’ll have you laid out under me in the sand, and I’m not sure it will be nearly as sexy as the movies make it out to be.” He presses a kiss to my forehead before pushing himself to stand, hand outstretched. He wiggles his fingers at me a little, and it pulls a bigger smile across my face .
“You’re probably right. I don’t want to be washing sand out of places it was never meant to be for the next week.” I slip my hand into his and he pulls me up, using all his strength so that my momentum carries me straight into his body.
“This feels familiar,” I say, looking up at him with joyful amusement as I think back to that first day on the plane when we ended up in a very similar position.
“Yeah, but this time, I’m not letting you go.”