Page 46 of Denying Davis
“Where do you want to go?” I asked as I unlocked the gate that divided our section of beachfront property from the road. The land also had a small storage shed, a strip of manicured grass, a hammock between two palm trees, and a row of four chaise lounges. “We can have a seat…whatever you’d like. Your choice.”
Why do I feel like a bumbling idiot? This is Sam.MySam. Because she means more to you than you thought possible after so much time apart and so little time together.
“Let’s go to the water. I want to feel the sand and the salt between my toes.”
“You read my mind.”
We kicked off our shoes and tromped through the sand, still warm from the winter sun, and headed toward the calm surf. I’d never envied the northern states where a walk along the beach in winter was done with thick coats and hats. The Atlantic was pristine that night, and the water gently lapped at the shoreline. In the distance, miles offshore, a large cruise liner and an oil tanker passed by South Florida.
“Oh my God,” she murmured to herself when we reached the place where the sand met the water. “This is it.”
“This is what?”
She turned to me. “The place where we were that last night—the last time we were together before.” She looked around at the beach and added, “Before everything changed.”
A rush of energy pushed through me, and I glanced at the beach too. I hadn’t forgotten that moment—it stood out as one of my strongest memories of her—but I’d been so focused on impressing her I’d overlooked the significance. And she was right. We stood in almost the exact spot.
“That was one of the best nights of my life.”
“Me too.” She shivered. “I had a lot of hope then. I was a different person.”
“You’re the same person, Sam.” I moved closed closer. “Better, maybe. Tougher. But the same person.”
“I don’t feel that way. I feel old. And worn out.” She sighed, and her gaze met mine. “Except when I’m with you.”
“I feel the same way.”
She smiled and raised her glass. “On that note, let’s have some wine.”
“Happy to oblige.” I poured her a refill then topped off my own. The bottle was almost empty, so I put it down in the sand next to us. We drank in silence, watching the waves roll in and across the beach.
“I don’t think I’ve done this year in years,” I said.
“Done what?”
“Just admired the view for what it is.” I clinked my glass to hers. “Just enjoyed it. It’s gorgeous.”
“It is.” As I enjoyed my wine, my nerves started to loosen. This was Sam, after all. I didn’t need to be on edge around her. I only needed to be myself.
“You know what? You’re gorgeous too,” I whispered, and it was true. The moonlight created a halo around her hair, framing her face and illuminating her creamy skin. She was like a soft angel, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to be all around her and inside her. “You’re stunning, Sam.”
She smiled. “You don’t have to say things like that.”
“Yes, I do. Someone has to tell the truth.”
“But I’m—”
In one swift movement, I closed the space between us and pressed my mouth against hers. In that action, I claimed her; the kiss was full of need and wanting and deeper than the one we’d shared in the hospital courtyard. I dropped my half-empty glass in the sand and tangled my fingers in her hair, the kiss escalating. There was no one else. Nothing else. No ocean. No sky. No moonlight. Only us.
And she returned it with the same fervor.
It was the kind of moment that awakened every cell inside me. I couldn’t contain the pressure building since seeing her again, and I didn’t bother to try. Perhaps this had been my destiny—my reason—to be in Palm Beach again. I certainly wanted it to be, if she’d let me.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I said against her lips, my arms still around her, and my body as close to hers as I could be. Breaths pumped in and out of my chest in hard gasps, and I wondered if my ribcage would explode. I was hard, ready, and turned on. All the lingering emptiness I’d felt in the last few years faded away with every second that I held her. “Every year that passed without you in my life—I was empty. Missing something. Someone. And it was you.”
She moved her head and looked me in the eyes. “I feel that way too. Like I’d lost part of my heart. But now, I’ve found it.”
She crushed her lips to mine again, and I tasted the ten years of loneliness behind them, a decade of need that had gone unanswered.
