Page 73 of One More Chance
Inside, I place our bags in the bedroom and peer out the sliding glass door toward her.
Harper is walking along the water’s edge, her feet squishing into the wet sand, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She pulls the camera hanging around her neck up and snaps a photo of the water.
Pushing the door open, I suppress my greed, my desire to call for her, in favor of watching her for a little while longer. The winds coming in from the ocean blow her blonde ponytail back and forth as she constantly fights to keep loose strands tucked behind her ears. In this moment, I am in awe of her.
She must catch me looking at her from the corner of her eye, her head suddenly whipping in my direction as she gifts me with a smile, wide and genuine. “Hey, you,” she calls as she kicks her foot through a puddled bit of ocean water.
“Hi there,” I say, clearing my throat.
Harper begins to walk slowly toward me, and I have a sudden urge to pause this moment, memorize the way she looks in the darkening sky behind her, the setting sun casting a glow across her beautiful face, the way her bright blue eyes practically twinkle.
“Come here,” I say, reaching for her with one arm and pulling my phone from my pocket with the other.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I want to document this moment,” I say. “Smile.” I turn us so the ocean is behind us. I lean down, pressing her to me so we’re cheek to cheek, and snap a photo of us.
“Did it turn out good?” she asks.
I bring up the photo and examine it. From the smile on her lips to her body pressed close to mine and comfortably tucked beneath my arm, the picture is prefect. It’s everything I wanted to capture.
“It’s perfect,” I say, leaning my phone down to show her.
“Will you send it to me?” she asks.
“Of course. But first, let’s have some dinner and a bath.”
She sighs. “That sounds amazing.”
We walk back through the sliding doors, my arm still wrapped around her and I can’t help but notice how close we are to the bed. I mean, obviously, we’re in the bedroom but what kind of person would I be if I didn’t take advantage of it?
“Wait,” I say. I press her up against the bed and push her back gently, leaning over to take her mouth with mine.
“I thought we were making dinner?” She giggles.
“We are,” I say as I tug at her shorts. “But first I want a little appetizer.” I part her naked legs and drop to my knees, a need to taste her overcoming me.
Her laughter turns to moans in the back of her throat when my mouth finds her and later when I joke with her, I’ll ask her if she remembers that time I ate before dinner.