11. Robbie
ROBBIE
It’s a Pavlovian response. If a woman as tempting as Cassie tells me to ‘come’, I’m going to come.
I follow her into her mansion, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
I whistle under my breath as I take in her airy entrance hall. Chic wood fixtures and a sweeping curved staircase leading to a mezzanine.
“This way.” Cassie’s voice echoes through the wide double doors opening to a spacious kitchen, complete with a wall of windows so vast it’s like the ocean is in the room with us.
I’ve been here before for the party, but it’s completely indistinguishable from what it was then.
The party decorators did a good job and hid all the things about this place that clearly make it Cassie’s home.
I follow her into a wide open kitchen, and my attention is immediately drawn to the towering wall of windows.
From here, all you can see is the endless blue of the sea, and the sun just about to start its descent over the horizon.
I pull my gaze away from the view and glance around for Cassie. “Where have you gone?”
“Garage,” she calls out. “Take your clothes off.”
What? I almost swallow my tongue even as my hands reach for the hem of my t-shirt. I don’t have a chance to take it any further before she appears out of the side door, rummaging through a stack of black material. “This should fit you. Here.” She shoves the material in my arms. “Put that on.”
I tug the material free and hold it in front of me. It’s a wetsuit. “Erm?”
“Just put it on,” she snickers as she marches across the room and opens one of the doors leading to the patio. This woman is on a mission and I’ll obey any order, including getting naked in her kitchen.
“Where’s yours?” I ask as I drop my sweatpants. “Aren’t you supposed to wear board shorts under these? Whose is this? I don’t know if I want to share ball space with an ex-boyfriend.”
“Grow up.” She doesn’t turn her head as she fiddles with the lock on the door, but she has a teasing lilt in her sultry voice. “It’s a spare.”
I drop my boxers slowly. I know she can tell what’s happening behind her.
I don’t take my eyes off her reflection in the mirror.
I spot the exact moment her gaze flickers to mine, and the millisecond before she jumps away is just long enough for any lingering tension to fizzle out and my smirk to grow.
“Was this just an elaborate plan to see me naked in your kitchen?”
She lifts her head, that elegant nose tipped to the air. “You wish.”
She doesn’t look at me again as she disappears through the side door.
I’m glad she’s gone, as putting on a wetsuit is significantly less sexy than removing street clothes. By the time I’ve pulled it over my shoulders and ensured my balls are packed away tightly, she reappears.
I curse the thin material, which does nothing to hide the erection that tries to make itself known as soon as she reappears. Her own wetsuit is bunched around her hips, exposing her long tanned torso and the tiny green bikini covering her perfect tits.
Her arms are up and taming her wild curls into a loose braid behind her head. The action arches her back, lifting her breasts further in the air. I step behind the counter to hide how obviously she’s affecting me and clear my throat. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?”
She finishes braiding her hair, resting her hands on her hips and sending me a blinding smile. “We’re having some fun.”
I grit my teeth and take a deep breath, willing my blood to stop roaring in my veins. I assume it’s nowhere near that kind of fun, and I promptly try to remind my dick of the fact.
I could ask a follow up question. I probably should have asked a question before I peeled myself into a borrowed wetsuit and almost left the material dotted with precum.
But I don’t. Instead, I follow her as she flounces out the door onto the sand covered decking and leads me to an outhouse.
There’s an outdoor shower, covered with emerald and navy tiles gleaming in the reflection of the ocean. It’s easy to imagine Cassie running up off the shore and stripping to her tiny green bikini, washing the salt from her skin as her nipples pebble in the cool water.
Next to the outdoor shower is a stack of multicolor surfboards, some almost twice the size of Cassie and some small enough for a child. She grazes her hands over them, her brow scrunched as she concentrates. Eventually she lands on one and tugs it free.
“This is yours.”
I take the board in my hand, and I instantly feel like an idiot for not putting two and two together after the giant wetsuit clue that should have had alarm bells blaring.
I categorically cannot get on this surfboard.
I still remember the day I signed my first professional contract and my agent sat me down to tell me very firmly that I was not to partake in any extreme sports including: snowboarding, skiing, jet-skiing, ice skating, horse riding, race car driving and most especially not any watersports like—I don’t know—surfing?
Cassie is already halfway across the lawn, aiming for the gap in the shrubbery that I found the last time I was here.
My mouth dries as memories of that night flood back, and I’m following her across the grass before I can remind myself about contract stipulations.
I glance at the two sunbeds on the small patio, the soft white cushions pristine and neat, so unlike how we left them in the dark.
In the daytime, I can see the steps that lead from the patio down to the beach, Cassie’s board already halfway down them.
I follow her down to the waterline, her red braid and giant yellow surfboard like a beacon.
My surfboard is light under my arm, but I have to adjust my hold so the end doesn't drag across the sand.
There's a lead that dangles off the end and it nearly tangles around my ankles.
I try not to break my stride as I grab it, and my feet touch the water before I realize Cassie isn't in front of me any more.
The water swishes beneath my toes as I pivot, and the surfboard swooshes through the air at the motion.
She's firmly planted on the sand, her board next to her, hand on her hip and tendrils of red hair blowing in the wind.
"Where are you going?"
I tilt my head back with a groan, just about done with this nonsense.
"Cassie, I've humored you long enough. I got out of the car, I put on the bloody wetsuit that may or may not belong to another man, and now you're saying I lugged this bloody thing all the way down here for no reason?
" I just about have the restraint to keep the board tucked under my arm.
She blinks at me, cocking her hip to the side and biting back a grin. "When you learned how to play soccer—”
“Football,” I correct, automatically.
She ignores me. “Did you immediately start playing in stadiums?"
"What?"
"Or did you practice at home. In the back yard?" Cassie drops her board to the sand and gestures for me to do the same.
I look out at the horizon, the low afternoon sun reflecting on the water, and sigh before plopping my board down next to hers.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"I can't believe this," I mutter under my breath as I drop to my knees in the sand next to her. I was supposed to go home and workout in peace. But instead I'm pretending to surf on dry land next to a woman who was put on the earth to torture me.
Cassie makes me lie on my front, pretending to paddle before making me arch forward and hop up onto my feet.
It's not dissimilar to a pushup, so I practice the move with ease. The motion is easy, so I'm confident I'll be able to replicate it.
After she's made me do it four times, I hop up. "Let's go."
She narrows her eyes as she considers me. "You think you can do it?"
I scoff. "I'm an athlete Cassie, of course I can do it.”
I don't tell her that Florent would bench me for a month if he caught me doing something so dangerous whilst in contract. Anything could happen. I could break a limb, re-tear my ACL, drown, but I won't back down in front of those fiery green eyes. If this girl wants me to surf, I'm going to surf.
"Okay," she sings, her melodic voice settling across me like a weighted blanket. "Let’s go."
I copy her as she effortlessly crashes into the water, paddling through the waves.
This is no different from swimming, just on top of a piece of foam. The only sound is the rhythmic noise of the waves hitting the shore, and the splashing of my arms through the water. I follow behind Cassie, the arches of her bare feet visible over the tail of her board.
Eventually, she pivots to sit, legs spread on either side of the board as she straddles it.
The water is cool enough to keep any arousal in check, but it's still an effort to drag my eyes away from her.
The sun is just now starting to set on the horizon, bathing her in a golden glow.
The ends of her braid are already tinged with sea water as it falls over her shoulders.
I push myself up to mimic her position, and the board teeters beneath me. Huh. That's definitely not like it was on the sand.
"This is a good one," Cassie says as she flattens against the board, something in her voice making me do a double take. I've not heard that gleeful inflection from her before. "It's coming!"
I can't stop the smile that pulls at my lips as I watch. Her body is flat to the board, her head tilted behind her to watch the wave that’s building behind us. She has the biggest smile I've ever seen her have. She looks different. She looks happy.
She takes off with a yell, and I watch as she seamlessly lifts to stand, riding the wave for a few glorious seconds, water spraying from her board, before she tumbles to the water with a laugh.
The board underneath my thighs tilts with the water as I clap my hands together.
"You're a natural, Sandra." I tell her as she resurfaces and paddles back to me, splashing water at me with a wide grin. "How long have you been surfing?"
Cassie climbs back to seated and looks out towards the horizon.
"Since I was a teenager. When I got signed, I was just a kid, so my dad wanted me to do something that wasn't just music.
He hired a private instructor and brought me out here every week for a summer until I was confident to go out on my own.
Then he probably regretted it, because I'd come down here as soon as my parents started arguing, and he couldn't get me to come out again. "
"Do they still fight a lot?"
She grimaces. "Come on, your turn."
I lie down on my board and dutifully follow her instructions, aiming for the wave I can see heading my way.
Push up with your arms, sweep the feet, push to stand.
My arms push my torso back and just as I sweep my feet beneath me the board capsizes and I tumble headfirst into the water. Blackness swirls as I try to right myself before a hand appears in the break.
Cassie's grin is the first thing I see as she clasps my hand in hers, and I think I wouldn't mind falling a thousand times if she smiles at me like that when she saves me.