Some surfers wore bathing suits, other short wetsuits. Some were clearly more experienced than others, steering around others surfers with a mere shift of their weight on the board. One in particular drew her attention, a lean man with slicked back hair, water streaming down his bare chest, his board shorts riding low on his hips, his stance at once alert and relaxed as he moved through the water. She caught her breath as he paddled, ready for one of the taller waves that rolled toward him, as he pounced to his feet just be-low the crest of the wave, maneuvering his body and board up and down the height of the swell and riding the length until the wave disappeared.
His momentum carried him forward onto the beach, and Elizabeth’s breath caught in recognition.
Sullivan pushed his hair away from his face and grinned. “See that?”
She saw every bit of that, long legs, broad chest covered with a soft-looking layer of curly hair. A tattoo of a hibiscus was etched on his upper right shoulder.
But she was pretty sure that wasn’t what he was talking about. “You make it look effortless.”
He jammed the end of his board in the sand and dropped to sit beside her. “Mom had me out on a board practically before I could walk.” He twisted to look at her. “Want to give it a shot?”
“I’m not dressed.”
“I can wait. Go change.”
She thought about what Bailey had said, about feeling his hands on her, and suddenly the thought terrified her. She hadn’t had sex in a long time, and the longing he sent through her was frightening. His scent swirled around her, and his water-cooled arm brushed hers. Her nipples tightened at that simple contact and suddenly it wasn’t enough.
She pushed to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”