One of the surfers comes wading out of the water, board under his arm, and stops not far from us to peel the top of his wetsuit down, exposing a beautiful round tattoo, which takes up most of his very impressive left pec. Jess gives me wide eyes and a dirty grin.
“Not going in for a swim, ladies?” he asks, moving closer. Like any committed surfer, his chest and abs are taut, his arms strong. And his face isn’t a challenge to look at either.
“The water’s still a bit cold for me. Maybe in a month or so.”
“Is this your regular beach?” He sidles closer to me, saltwater dripping from his board onto the sand at my feet. Even from this distance, I can read the interest in his eyes.
“One of them.” I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t want to encourage him either.
“Maybe I’ll see you down here again, then?” Hope is written all over his face. He’s opening the door for me to show some interest, but as nice as he seems, as hot as he is, he’s not Josh.
“Maybe.”
He hovers for a few more minutes, pretending to watch the surf, then turns, and with a wave and a “See you”, heads off down the beach towards the car park.
“He was totally hitting on you,” Jess says as soon as he’s out of earshot.
“I know.” Being a little naïve doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Or entirely clueless. It’s not like I’ve never dated. I’ve had boyfriends. Lovely boyfriends who treated me well and, in theory, were perfect for me. Better suited to me than Josh, Jessie always said. I even slept with a couple of them. But it never felt quite right, and I could never work out why. Spending time with Josh again has helped me realise maybe I was subconsciously comparing them to him. Using Josh as some kind of yardstick for every man I met and finding them wanting. One thing I do know. None of them made me feel like I do when Josh looks at me.
Jess sighs and leans her head on my shoulder. “The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess.”
We both laugh as I make a gagging noise. “You’re wasted as a teacher. You should get a job writing Hallmark cards. Or movies. Or those cute little affirmation artworks—”
Which gets me a push sideways into the damp sand.
“Just be careful. Josh is a player. You know this. And I don’t want to watch him hurt you.” Jess reaches down and pulls me up off the sand, back to sitting. “Anyway. Tell me more about this house you’ve designed.”
We brush ourselves off and start the walk back to our cars while I talk some more about the plans. “He’s visiting his mother in the mountains this weekend. I think he’ll be back tomorrow. As soon as he’s seen them, I’ll show you.”
“I can’t wait. Maybe soon you’ll be able to design a house for Ethan and me.”
“That would be … Wait. What? Are you guys makingplans?”
“Not yet. But it’s not long till he finishes his PhD, and we always said once he was done, we’d talk about the future. So …”
“Oooh, yay.” I stop and give her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Then you’ll be my really truly sister. I can’t wait.”
“Me either,” she sighs.
Chapter Thirteen
Josh
IarrivebackinSydney early afternoon, and as I let myself back into the soulless serviced apartment, I sigh. God, I’ll be glad to get out of here. It’s sterile and cold. Moving in with Will for a month or two will be a great relief. Not to mention fun.
I check my phone, and there are multiple voicemails from Will insisting I come for family dinner, and one from Greer. My heart rate picks up at the sound of her voice.
“Hi Josh, it’s Greer. I guess you’re out of range up in the mountains. Anyway, if you get a chance, please give me a call. I have something for you I think you might like. Bye.”
Oh yeah, she has something I might like, alright. Just the honeyed sound of her voice makes me hard. I can’t call her back in this state. I head into the bathroom, turn the shower on full, strip off and take my cock in hand. Jesus, this is getting to be a habit. Lately, more often than not, I start the day jerking off in the shower. If I think of Greer,whenI think of Greer, it doesn’t take long.
Recalling her voice from her message, I feel an uncomfortable combination of guilt and relief as my release begins to bubble, my hand stroking faster, squeezing tight at the base and easing up the length. I picture Greer in the wet t-shirt she was wearing the day of the accident, how it clung to the perfect curves of her breasts, and I can’t hold back the moan that bursts from deep in my gut. I focus on the memory of her voice. Her scent. The warmth in her eyes. I explode, the release and warm water washing away the last of my tension. And there’s no sign of the guilt I started with. Just a deep sense of need. Which doesn’t seem to go away.
Feeling more relaxed, I throw on some fresh jeans and a t-shirt before calling Greer back. The phone rings a few times before she answers.
“Hey, Greer. You rang?”
“Hi. Yes. I wasn’t sure when you’d be back. How was your trip?”
