Chapter 3 #2
“You could find it here,” he says quietly, his hand finally moving to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers linger against my cheek, warm and rough from years of handling ropes and boards, calluses that speak of hard work and quiet resilience.
The touch sends a wave of heat through me, pooling in my chest, making it hard to breathe steadily.
My heart races, thumping against my ribs like the distant waves crashing on the shore.
“Jake…” I start, but the word trails off as he steps even closer, his body heat enveloping me like a summer tide.
The air thickens between us, charged with an electricity that hums along my skin.
He reaches out fully now, his palm cupping my jaw gently, thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone with a tenderness that contrasts the strength in his hands.
My eyes flutter closed for a second, savoring the sensation, the way his touch feels like an anchor in a storm I didn’t know I was still weathering.
“Grace,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. “Let me show you what it’s like to belong, even if it’s just for now.”
Our breaths mingle in the narrow space, his face inches from mine, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his lips part slightly as if waiting for the inevitable pull to close the gap.
My body sways toward him instinctively, drawn like gravity, my hands itching to slide up his chest, feel the solid warmth beneath his shirt.
Reality crashes in like a cold wave, snapping me back. I pull back gently, my hand coming up to rest on his wrist, stopping him even as part of me screams to let go.
“Jake,” I say again, firmer this time, though my voice wavers. “I can’t.”
He searches my face for a long moment, his thumb stilling on my skin but not pulling away.
Desire flickers in his eyes, raw and honest, mingled with a respect that makes my chest ache.
“Visiting doesn’t mean you can’t feel something real while you’re here,” he says softly, his words wrapping around me like a promise.
I open my mouth to argue, to explain the tangle of emotions still knotted inside me, but the bell chimes over the door, shattering the moment.
A family walks in, a mom with a toddler balanced on her hip and the dad juggling an oversized beach bag filled with toys and snacks.
Jake straightens reluctantly, the spell breaking as he drops his hand, though his fingers trail lightly down my arm before letting go completely.
“Think about the sunscreen,” he says, his voice low enough for only me to hear, laced with a husky edge that lingers. “And think about letting yourself enjoy whatever this is. No pressure. Just possibilities. I’m not going anywhere.”
He moves to help the family, greeting them with that easy warmth of his, asking about their plans for the day, and recommending the best boogie boards for kids.
I stand there in the aisle, bottles clutched in my hands, pulse still thrumming wildly from the near-kiss, from the way his touch ignited something inside me.
The shop feels brighter now, the air saltier, every scent and sound sharper because of him.
I wander to the register with my choices.
I’ve got the two sunscreens he suggested, a wide-brimmed hat with a ribbon that matches my dress, and a soft beach towel in pale blue that reminds me of the ocean’s calm depths.
Jake rings me up when the family leaves, his fingers quick on the keys, but his eyes keep flicking back to mine, holding a silent conversation that makes my skin flush all over again.
“Need help with anything else?” he asks, sliding the bag across the counter, his hand lingering on the handle as if reluctant to let the moment end.
I hesitate, biting my lip as an idea forms, a way to extend this tension just a little longer. “Actually, I could use help with the sunscreen. My back’s impossible to reach on my own.”
His grin returns, slow and knowing, lighting up his face in a way that makes my stomach flip. “Happy to oblige. Let’s step outside.”
We move to a small, shaded area beside the shop, a quiet nook tucked away from the main boardwalk, where the sound of waves crashing provides a rhythmic backdrop.
The boardwalk is quieter here, just the distant crash of surf and seagulls calling overhead, their cries mingling with the soft rustle of palm fronds in the breeze.
I slip the thin straps of my sundress down my shoulders, careful to keep everything modest.
Jake takes the bottle I hand him, squeezes a generous amount of lotion into his palm, and warms it between his hands with slow, deliberate rubs.
When his fingers finally touch my bare skin, I inhale sharply, the cool cream contrasting with the heat of his touch.
He spreads it in slow circles across my shoulders, his palms firm but gentle, kneading lightly as if savoring the moment.
His thumbs trace the line of my spine, lingering at the small of my back, pressing just enough to send shivers racing through me.
“You have freckles here,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck as he leans closer. “Tiny ones. Like stars scattered across your skin. Beautiful.”
I close my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me completely, the way his hands explore with care, mapping my back like territory he wants to claim.
No one has touched me like this in so long, not with such reverence, not with wonder that made me feel seen, desired, alive.
His fingers dip lower, brushing the edge of my waist, and I arch slightly into the touch, a soft sigh escaping my lips.
“Jake,” I whisper, my voice breathy, laced with the tension building between us.
He pauses, his hands stilling on my skin, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he steps closer, his chest brushing my back, the heat of him enveloping me like the sun-warmed sand. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, his voice rough, edged with restraint.
I don’t. The word hangs unspoken, my body betraying me as I lean back just a fraction, feeling the solid wall of him behind me.
His hands resume their path, slower now, more deliberate, tracing patterns that feel like promises.
The tension coils tighter, every stroke of his fingers heightening the awareness between us, making the air feel thick and charged.
Finally, he steps back, his breath coming a little faster. “All set,” he says, though his voice betrays the reluctance.
I adjust my dress, turning slowly to face him.
The sundress slips a little lower before I catch it, but I don’t rush to fix it completely, letting the moment stretch.
His gaze drops to my collarbone, tracing the exposed skin, then lifts back to my eyes.
Desire burns there, raw and honest, mirroring the heat pooling in my core.
He steps closer again. Close enough that I feel the warmth of him through the thin space between us, his body a magnetic pull I can barely resist. His hand lifts, cups my jaw gently, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Grace.”
Our breaths mingle, shallow and quick. The world narrows to the salt on his skin, the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling in time with mine. I rise on my toes, drawn like gravity, my lips inches from his.
“I shouldn’t,” I whisper.
He exhales slowly, his forehead resting against mine for a heartbeat, his hand still cupping my face. “I know,” he murmurs, though the disappointment lingers in his tone. “But when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”
His hands drop away, but he doesn’t step back immediately, letting the tension simmer between us like the summer heat. “Whenever you’re ready to explore those possibilities, I’ll be right here.”
I smile, shaky but real, my body still humming from his touch. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It can be,” he replies, his voice soft, eyes searching mine. “When it’s right. When it feels like this.”
I adjust my dress fully, take the bag from the counter inside when we return. He walks me to the boardwalk edge, hands in his pockets now, but his gaze follows every step I take.
“Enjoy the beach,” he calls after me. “Can I bring you coffee tomorrow?”
I nod over my shoulder with a smile. I know I shouldn’t be encouraging him. There are so many reasons it’s a bad idea. Our age difference, which has to be more than ten years, and the fact that I’m not here forever.
He watches me walk away, that steady gaze following until I disappear around the bend toward the sand. My skin still tingles where he touched me, every nerve alive with the romantic tension he stirred. My heart feels fuller, lighter, aching with the promise of what could be.