Before I Ever Met You by Karina Halle
He zips up and takes my hand. We giggle as we walk along the beach and to his house.
16
Charlie got back from vacation today and not a moment too soon. I normally don’t mind all the hours in the kitchen and working overtime here and there but lately, work is the last place I want to be right now. And who can blame me?
It’s been a few days since Logan and I started up our…what’s even the right word? Affair? Sounds too shameful. Tryst? Too vulgar. I guess the only way to phrase it that makes sense to me would be love affair. Not that either of us have uttered the L word, I know I’m trying my best to not put a label on my feelings. I’m trying not to think too much and just enjoy it, even when a feeling is burning away inside of you, growing day by day.
Anyway you put it though, what we have has been stealing my thoughts and my heart away from everything else. All I do is think about him, all want is to be with him. It’s like I’ve finally given myself permission to feel all the things I’ve tried to ignore and I’m drowning in it. It’s a beautiful way to go.
I’ve been with him every night except last. I think Kate’s gotten a bit suspicious with me disappearing and coming back so late. What I really want to do is sleep overnight at Logan’s again and wake up in his arms, but I think from now on she’ll notice if I don’t come home. She’s tricky like that, maybe because she and Charlie were sneaking around.
I kind of hope now that Charlie is back the two of them will start up again, if only to keep them from noticing what Logan and I are doing.
I know I shouldn’t really be so concerned with what everyone thinks but it’s still all so new and so fucking fragile. Logan and I have so much to be wary about, our relationship with each other…it’s a sensitive thing and needs to be handled with care. We move in secret because we’re afraid that people will look at us differently, at least I am.
By keeping it under wraps, we don’t have to explain it to anyone but ourselves. And even then, that’s a hard pill to swallow sometimes. When I’m with him everything feels right, like fate, kismet, and destiny have joined forces and moved mountains in order for us to be together. But then I might see a sign of her in the house or he might mention her name or I might be reminded of some time that Logan and Juliet were together and then it all comes crashing down.
I try not to let it crush me, though. We feel right, and how can something this right be so wrong? Logan was never meant to be with Juliet, and Juliet knew it herself. It’s only her death that makes things so damn complicated, more for other people than for us. People who wouldn’t know the whole truth – and that makes everyone but Dan and Juliet’s lover – would see us as cold and callous, and if anyone had believed that Logan had been a cheater, as I had, they would be quick to point fingers.
There’s also the fact that working in such close quarters with everyone at Moonwater, knowledge of our relationship would raise more than a few eyebrows. I know they’re my ohana now, but even then I don’t want to test the waters.
And yet, sometimes you need to just get out there and swim.
“Hey,” I hear Logan’s accent from outside and head out onto my balcony. He’s standing below it, staring up at me, wearing just swim trunks and nothing else. Today is a gorgeous day and hot like anything, and he seems to have broken a sweat, his muscles gleaming in the sunshine. If I had no shame I’d offer to lick the sweat right off of him.
“Hey,” I say back to him, leaning on the railing and trying to hide the fact that I’m clenching my thighs together to no avail.
“Now that Charlie’s back,” he says, “did you want another surf lesson before your shift?”
Now, I’m not exactly sure if “surf lesson” is innuendo for something (and by something, I mean wild, hot, sweaty sex), we are in public after all. So I give him a tentative, “yes?”
“All right. Get your bathing suit on and meet me at the Jeep.” He turns and heads back across the lawn.
Still not sure if this is innuendo or not. By “bathing suit” does he mean fancy bra and underwear? By Jeep does he mean his house? But to be safe I put on my bikini and a rash guard shirt and grab a towel before I head outside.
“Where are you going?” Kate asks, leaning against the door to reception and fanning her face with a brochure. A gecko climbs up the wall beside her but she pays it no attention.
“Surfing,” I tell her.
“With Charlie?”
I jerk my head toward the parking lot where Logan’s pulling his Jeep around, a longboard sticking out the back. “No. Don’t worry. The habut.”
She narrows her eyes slightly. “Hmmm. Somehow this isn’t surprising.”
I shrug and try to play it off. “Hey, he got me riding my first wave, not Charlie. I think the Australian knows a little more than the dude from Colorado.”
“Do you know who knows better than both of them?” she asks and sticks her thumb into her chest. “Me.”
“Well if our schedules ever match up, then maybe.” I start to walk away and throw a saucy look over my shoulder at her. “Or maybe I’ll be so good by then, you’ll be getting lessons from me?”
I don’t have to keep looking to know she’s rolling her eyes.
Meanwhile Logan is in the driver’s seat of his Jeep, dark aviator sunglasses covering his eyes and a cocky grin on his lips. “Get in, Freckles.”
I quickly climb in the passenger seat and we burn out of the parking lot, taking a left at the road and heading to Hanalei.
“Are we really going surfing?” I ask.
“What did you think we were doing?”
“I don’t know. Having sex?”
“Woman, you’re going to tire me out, you know that?”
I laugh. “I know firsthand that’s impossible.”
And it’s true. I don’t care how old Logan is, he has all the control in the world combined with the stamina of a fucking teenager. Meaning, he can go again and again and again. That first night together wasn’t a one-off thing, that’s the way it is with him every night. It gives new meaning to the word insatiable.
It’s still pretty early in the morning so the dirt parking lot at Hanalei Bay isn’t too packed and it’s easy to find a spot. We walk through the pavilion where a lot of the derelicts hang out and drink their cheap beers, and head out onto the beach.
Hanalei Bay is a gorgeous spot, and, in my opinion, the prettiest beach on the island. At one end there’s the historic pier which stretches out into the water where people fish from and outrigger canoes flank the shore. In the middle, where we are, the waves are gentler and a few surf schools dot the swells, while hobby cat sailing boats are lined up on the beach, waiting to be used again in the calmer summer months.
At the far end, the more experienced surfers take the waves and the long stretch of white sand gets wilder, peppered with reef and volcanic rock. And of course the ever-present mountains of the Na Pali Coast preside over all, reminding you at all times that this island is a wondrous, magical force of nature.
Logan takes the board, carrying it with ease on his head, and starts heading down the beach away from the surfing classes and the kids until we’ve got space and privacy. In a couple of hours the beach should be packed, especially on a day like today.
“Get in,” he says, nodding at the water.
Honestly, even though the fact that I’m alone with Logan here is pretty amazing, I’m not sure if I’m sold on the whole surfing thing. I would much rather go back to his place and shove his head between my legs. My memory of surfing to “Kashmir” is a pretty good one, and I don’t want to mess that up by bailing.
“I said get in,” he says.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”
He raises a brow, crinkling his forehead. “Well I am your boss, aren’t I?”
“Not right now,” I tell him, hands on my hips.
“Fine,” he says. Before I know what’s happening, he’s striding over and picking me up, carrying me caveman-style over his should
Then he chucks me over his head like I’m a volleyball, and I fly into the water with an ungraceful splash.
“You jerk!” I cry out as soon as I break the surface, spitting out the water. Luckily the bay here is shallow for a long time and I can easily stand on the bottom.
Logan is laughing, a full-on gorgeous sound that almost makes me forgive him. Almost.
“Well now you’re in, Freckles. Who’s the boss now?”
I stick my tongue out at him. “Just because you’re some superhuman caveman that can throw me around like a rag doll, doesn’t mean I don’t have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like…withholding sex.”
He laughs. “Right. I’ll have you changing your mind pretty soon. Now stay put. You’re surfing.”
He goes back on the beach and grabs the longboard, hauling it into the water beside us.
“Wait a minute,” I tell him, treading water where the bottom slopes into a sandy hole created by the waves. “You still owe me a surf.”
“This is about you.”
“Yes and you promised me ‘Purple Rain.’ Now get on the board and show the student who the master really is.”
“Master,” he muses, eyes twinkling. “I like the sound of that.”
I pat the board and swim toward the shore until my feet touch again. “I mean it. Sing.”
“You do realize I made that all up, don’t you?”
I stare at him in confusion. “What? Made what up?”
He bites his lip, trying to keep his smile in check. “The whole ‘sing a song and ride the wave’ deal. It was complete horseshit. Made it up on the spot.”
I blink. “Are you kidding me?”
He’s grinning now. “Nah. I just wanted to hear how bad of a singer you were.”
“You asshole!” I smack him on his arm.
“But it worked!” he protests, shrinking away from me. “You caught that wave and rode it.”
“While looking like a total idiot!”
“You only sounded like a total idiot.”
I growl at him and smack him once more. “You know what? You owe me now on principle. Get up on the damn board and sing me some Prince!”
He hesitates until I give him my most venomous look. With a heavy sigh, he concedes. “Fine, fine. I guess it’s only fair.”
“Fuck yeah it’s fair,” I tell him.
He climbs onto the board and lies on it, looking over his shoulder at the waves. There’s one swell coming that would have been too big for me.
“That one,” I tell him.
He cocks his eyebrow. “Now who’s the bossy one?”
I swim away from him, heading toward the peak of where the waves are breaking and hang back there for the best vantage point, then turn back to see him start to paddle.
“Sing, bitch!” I yell.
He gives me something like a snarl and then starts. “I never meant to cause you any sorrow.” Like his Robert Plant impression, his Prince impression is dead on.
Even so, I yell, “Louder!”
“I never meant to cause you any pain!” he sings as he glides past me, getting on the board in such an effortless manner, like it’s as second nature to him as breathing, eating, fucking. Every muscle ripples, from his rigid abs, to his shoulders to his arms, and he truly looks one with the board, with the ocean, with the world.
“Purple rain,” he belts out, over and over again as he cruises toward the shore, the water shredding behind him. Once he reaches the beach, he hops off, grabs the board and comes back in towards me.
“Well?” he asks, pushing his wet hair off his forehead, a wet Adonis.
“That was something else,” I admit. “Color me impressed.”
“Color you purple?”
“Color me anything. You’re a triple threat. You can sing, surf and…”
“Make you come like crazy.”
My cheeks grow hot. I like to think it’s the sun. “Well in that case it’s countless since you have this habit of making me come over and over again.”
“You got a problem with that?” he murmurs, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me toward him. His eyes have gone from being light and teasing to half-glazed with arousal.
It’s funny how just a look from him can get my body humming and ticking like a finely tuned engine. I wrap my legs around his waist and he slips his fingers to the front of my bathing suit, rubbing them against me.
“Here?” I ask, looking around. We are definitely in public and though the nearest surfers are about halfway down the beach and there are some people sunbathing on shore, I have no doubt it would be pretty obvious if we were to screw right here and now.
Then again, I’m living a world of firsts lately.
“No one will know,” he whispers, leaning over and taking my lower lip between his teeth and tugging on it.
A small moan escapes from my lips, the pressure from his fingers growing harder. He reaches down with his other hand to free his cock from his shorts while I grab the board and lean back against it with my arms spread out.
“Can you touch the bottom?’” I ask as his lips go to my neck, sucking the salt water off of me.
“Mmhmm.” He pushes aside my bikini bottom and runs the tip of his cock up and down my slit, teasing oh so slowly.
To be honest, I’ve never had sex in the water before, and I’m grateful that he gets me wet and ready so fast, because when he starts to push in, it’s friction city. I suck in my breath, my fingers digging into the surfboard, trying to hold on.
“Just breathe,” he tells me, licking my earlobe. “I’ll take it slow until you tell me otherwise.”
I nod and let out my breath, feeling myself expand around him. The pressure of his fingers on on my clit fill me with an aching hollowness, like I need more of him inside, like I’ll never have enough of him.
“That’s it,” he groans, mouth at my neck. “Fuck yes. You’re so tight, Veronica, so fucking tight.”
I can’t say anything back to that, I can only breathe, my head back and face to the blue blue sky above. He starts pumping into me faster, deeper, controlled jabs of his hips against mine. The friction of the water seems to slow down time, making me feel every single inch of him as he thrusts in and out.
Someone has to be watching us, someone has to know that we aren’t just two people hanging out in the water. They have to know I’m getting royally fucked in public.
We’re so bad. But so, so good.
Each spot he hits brings me to a new level. I don’t know if it’s the shimmering water that envelopes us or the stark sunshine that illuminates everything, but I’ve never felt so alive and exposed at the same time. The darkness and the doubt and the guilt are banished for this sweet moment. It’s just us, all of our flaws and imperfections exposed. It’s us and we’re in this together, stronger for it.
I’m starting to think this man is my world. I’m starting to think he’ll never not be.
Logan looks up from my neck, staring right into my eyes. His breath is ragged and rough as he moves in and out of me, picking up the pace. But his eyes never break from mine and I watch as the fire inside them builds, just as it builds inside me.
I can’t hang on anymore. “Oh, oh,” I cry out softly. “I’m coming.”
“Fuck,” he swears, his eyes snapping shut as he thrusts in harder, deeper, his fingers on my clit rubbing me to completion. My legs convulse, trying to hold on as I let go and he pumps into me until he’s grunting and cursing into my shoulder, finding his own release.
“Don’t drown,” he manages to say, his voice thick and sated.
I grip the board harder, aware that I’m floating in the ocean while I’m floating in the stars. Just when I think he can’t make me come harder, when I think he can’t make me feel more, he does.
When I’ve finally caught my breath, I rai
He kisses me softly on the lips before he slowly pulls out of me. “Freckles, you have no idea how hard it is to stay away from you in general.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face, eyes searching me for something. He almost looks pained.
“What?” I ask.
He gives his head a slight shake. “Nothing. I just…can’t believe I have you.”
My heart warms from those words. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to knowing that I’m his. “Of course you have me.”
“But I don’t want you just for now,” his voice grows softer, deeper, just as his gaze does. “I want you forever. Just like this. Under this sun, in these waves. With me.”
Something inside me is starting to break. Little cracks, here and there, in the hardened plaster that used to keep me together. If Logan keeps this up, I’ll be shattered in no time. There will be nowhere to hide and I’ll have no chance to rebuild.
I don’t know how to answer him. I’m feeling too much, my body still aching from where he was inside me. He clears his throat and looks up at the sun, squinting. “Well, since we’ve got a beauty of a day, we might as well take advantage of it. Your turn. Don’t worry, I won’t make you sing this time.”
“You better not,” I tell him. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you sang ‘Purple Rain’ to me again.”
“We’ll see,” he says.
So, I get on the board and he coaxes me to stand up on yet another wave, all while he is singing “Purple Rain.” Even if he made that shit up and I’m not the one singing, it still works.
Well, at least the first time it did. I bailed on the last two waves, getting pummeled both times. Guess I was picking waves a bit out of my league and getting over-confident.
Funny what love can do to you, I think as I drag myself out of the surf.
The thought nearly stops me dead in my tracks.