A soft moan escapes from Cara’s lips. This is the most magical time in the cove, before anyone stirs. She has the beach to herself. The sky is a cloudless, cornflower blue and the warmth of an early morning sun caresses her skin, teased by a gentle summer breeze. The sands are pristine, washed clean by the last full tide, and she walks the shoreline listening to the gentle whoosh of the waves. Her white jeans are rolled up to her knees. On her left ankle, the iridescent hummingbird tattoo shimmers in the sunshine as she checks the flotsam and jetsam for pieces of driftwood and any objects of interest. Although she’s beachcombed this cove a thousand times before, each tide brings in a different treasure trove. A yellow seashell catches her eye and she stoops to pick it up, turning it over in her hand and feeling its ridges.
Suddenly aware of being watched, she glances up at the cliffs towering high above this natural and wild stretch of sand, only accessible at low tide. There’s no human habitation in sight. Looking back along the beach, she notices Oliver standing at the far end observing her. Without warning, her heart flutters as she sees the expression on his face. It was one hell of a night! She left him sleeping; needing time alone to assimilate all that had passed between them. She raises her hand and waves. He looks different this morning. Still devastatingly good-looking, of course, but there’s an additional element to his countenance. What is it? She smiles as it comes to her. He looks free.
‘Fancy a swim?’ she calls out along the lonely beach.
‘What, now?’
‘No time like the present,’ she says with a laugh.
Unzipping her jeans, she steps out of them and then peels off her T-shirt. Lastly, she removes her knickers. Standing vulnerable and naked on the sand, she gives him a look of deep-rooted compassion before running into the sea. The water is much colder than she anticipated and she breathes in sharply. Before she has a chance to change her mind she dives and her neat buttocks rise briefly before disappearing beneath the waves. Surfacing a few yards further out, she shakes her long, wet hair out of her face before turning to face him. Then, with the sun behind her, she rises out of the ocean and stretches out her arms. Raising her hands high above her head, she allows the water to cascade through her open fingers, giving the impression of wings.
‘Come on in, Oliver,’ she says, a smile lighting her face. ‘It’s as warm as a bath.’
She watches him glance up at the cliffs and along the beach before unbuttoning his shirt and placing it on the sand. He checks the beach and clifftop again and removes his jeans. Oliver stands naked on the sand.
Even though she’s just spent the most glorious night with him, Cara’s heart misses a beat. He’s in great shape: no spare flesh; muscles well defined; and she can see an outline of a six-pack. As she drinks in his physique, telltale butterflies lift in her stomach. She watches him enter the water and wince. Playfully, she grins.
‘Just you wait ’til I get you,’ he threatens with a smile.
She gives him a wide-eyed look and lets out a little shriek.
Her eyes don’t leave him as he wades in deeper and dives beneath the waves to resurface in a sea of bubbles. He sets off towards her in an overarm crawl, his muscles glistening as he powers through the sea and, soon, he is beside her.
‘Nothing like a bracing swim to start the day,’ she comments.
‘Warm bath, you said!’ He gives her a mock stern look.
‘Well, to a cold-blooded creature it probably is,’ she says mischievously, ‘though you proved last night to be anything but…’
He reaches out to her and pulls her through the water towards him, his eyes not once leaving hers. She can feel his strength as he lifts her gently out of the sea, sending water in rivulets from her shoulders across her soft, rounded breasts and teasing her nipples erect. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The look in his eyes says it all. Placing her arms around his neck, she wraps her legs around his waist and nestles against him, safe in his arms, so strong and powerful. Briefly, she allows herself to believe that together they can face the world. She feels him brace against the rhythmic swell of the sea as his hands cup her buttocks and she is drawn into a loving kiss.
‘Cara, you have saved me,’ he whispers, in a deep, husky voice that sends shivers down her spine. He gazes at her, spellbound. ‘You are my one, my all.’
All around them, diamonds glitter upon the surface of the ocean and she hears the raucous sound of a gull’s cry high up on the clifftop, but Cara’s focus is on the pulse beating heavily in his throat and the hard length of his arousal pressed firmly against her. As she slides her fingers through his hair, the blood courses through her veins and she delights at the low groan escaping from deep in his throat. Slowly, deliciously, she lowers herself onto him. Very soon they are oblivious to their surroundings. Cara moans again. His lovemaking is urgent but tender and she feels the many months of agony over Christo’s death roll away, leaving her forgiven and at peace with herself.
After a while they reluctantly ease apart. As they emerge from the surf, she once again notices him anxiously glance up at the clifftop. He bends to pick up his clothes, and then holds out his hand to her. Although his skin is cool, his touch is loving. The morning sun caresses her body as she walks naked beside him, and the sand sensually works its way between her toes. When they reach the rocky outcrop that separates the hidden cove from the main beach, he glances cautiously along the empty sands. Cara lets out a carefree, light-hearted laugh.
‘Can’t help it,’ he says with a lopsided grin, holding his clothes in front of him. ‘You never know who may be snooping.’
She considers the constraints of his life, so different from her own. ‘It’s so early, Oliver,’ she says reassuringly. ‘I doubt there will be anyone on the beach for at least an hour.’ She smiles up at him.
‘Cara, you are full of surprises,’ he says, gazing at the small but vibrantly coloured hummingbird tattooed on her ankle.
‘Oh, that,’ she says, turning her leg and glancing down at the image. ‘One wild summer when I was sixteen. Seemed a good idea at the time. I still like it, though.’
He nods and smiles.
‘What time do you have to go?’ she asks, suddenly uncertain.
‘I can stay until three.’
‘That gives us around seven hours,’ she says. ‘What would you like to do?’
‘That’s easy,’ he says. ‘You!’
Cara rolls over and groans. Her eyes flicker open; eyelashes laced with tears. How treacherous her mind is. She can be strong during daylight hours and banish his presence but in sleep, when her guard is down, there he is knocking at the door reminding her of all that is lost. Sitting up in bed, she hugs her knees to her chin and stares, unseeing, into the pre-dawn light filling the room. Turning her head, she rests her cheek on her knees and tries to swallow the lump in her throat.