Page 40 of California Waves

She turned over and propped herself on one elbow. She loved how serious he was, even about sex. “I’ll tell you what. You can stretch out the second time as long as you want. But I think we both needed that one to be hard and fast and glorious.”

His eyes twinkled at her. “Glorious?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment?”

He looked slightly bashful. “Well, a man likes to think he’s made a woman happy.”

“Glorious,” she repeated quite firmly. “And you have made me so happy, I’m going to let you do that again.”

He didn’t need a second invitation. This time, he took plenty of time to caress her and kiss her breasts and her belly. He discovered the ticklish spot just beneath her earlobe and that if he kissed the soft skin on her inner wrist, she’d sigh.

In turn, she took her time exploring him, all those hard planes and ridges, and when they couldn’t stand it anymore, she flipped him onto his back and rode him until, once more, they both cried out together.

When he came back to himself she looked right down into his eyes and smiled at him, knowing somehow he’d never again say to her this could never be anything serious.

This might not be long-term, but it was very serious.

* * *

Hersch gazed up at Mila and saw her smiling down at him with her sea witch’s eyes. And she was a sea witch, he realized, because she had spun some kind of spell around him that seemed to have captured his heart. He thought, I could fall in love with this woman, and that scared him more than anything, because he was so determined never to put someone he loved through the worry of losing him or the grief if he died.

But the sex had been mind-blowing. He’d never known a woman so utterly open and responsive. They’d made love twice, and he wanted her as badly now as he had when she’d first walked in the door in that sexy dress that hugged all her curves. Now he’d seen all of her, and their time together was better than he could have imagined. She wasn’t a slight, delicate woman whom he was frightened he might hurt. She was strong, resilient—a woman who could give as well as she took, and he loved that about her.

Still sitting on top of him so he had a view of her glorious breasts, she said, “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of nerdy. But wow, do you know your way around a woman.”

She surprised an embarrassed chuckle out of him, but he was also quite pleased. She was so open and frank. He’d never been one to talk about his emotions, and he wasn’t ready to now, but he had them.

At some point he was going to have to face what this woman had done to him.

But not quite yet.

Instead, he piled pillows behind them and reached for a champagne glass while she scooched up so they were both sitting propped against the pillows. He passed her champagne and tapped his glass against hers again. The glasses were now only half full, but the bubbles were valiantly still racing up and down through the liquid.

“We’ve warmed my house, and we’ve warmed my new bed. And I’m pretty happy with both.”

“I’m going to echo what you said earlier. To new beginnings.”

They both sipped. And then, very deliberately, holding his gaze, she sipped champagne and held it in her mouth, then leaned over and sucked one of his nipples between her lips. He felt the bubbles of the champagne and the coldness, and then the warmth of her tongue licking at him, and amazingly he was rock hard again. He wouldn’t have thought he’d had enough time to recover, but his sea witch could do anything to him. This time, it was she who took the glass out of his hand and put it on the bedside table along with hers, and then she proceeded to love him with her mouth until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he flipped her onto her back and regained control.

They might have gone on like that all night, but at some point somebody’s stomach grumbled. He thought it might have been his. He looked up at her. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” she admitted.

And so they got up, and instead of putting her dress on, she snuggled into his navy blue robe that had been hanging on the back of the door. He loved how she looked in it. It hung almost to her ankles, and she had to roll up the sleeves. He picked up his jeans and slipped into them, and then they went downstairs to the kitchen.

Herschel opened the fridge, and Mila remarked on the bounty within. He glanced at her. “My specialty is omelets. How do you feel about an omelet?”

“Sounds perfect.”

She topped up their champagne and sat at his kitchen island, watching as he methodically and expertly washed his hands as though preparing for surgery, then chopped mushrooms, peppers, ham, and grated cheese, checking with her each time to see if she approved of the ingredients, all of which she did. When he opened cupboards to get down dishes, she said, “Have you already rearranged the cupboards? They look way more precise.”

He nodded. “Of course. I didn’t find the previous layout as efficient.”

She laughed. “Normally, I would find that super weird, but actually I admire how orderly you are. Maybe because it’s the exact opposite of me.”

When the eggs went into the pan, he lifted the edges and rolled the liquid around just like a sous-chef, so that when they were cooked, they would be fluffy and perfect. While he was doing that, he also managed to slice a fresh avocado, melon, and fresh strawberries so that the final presentation was multicolored and beautiful. He wanted Mila to remember this meal forever, even if it was just an omelet.

When he saw her gazing at him, he was suddenly worried. “What? Did I forget something?”

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