Read Online Making Waves (Mythological Lovers) by Vivienne Savage - Free Book Online
Authors: Vivienne Savage
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We finished our shopping and decided to follow the beach route back toward our residences. Crowds were thinner in spring than during the summer, but everything was open, including our favorite little fish hut. Dante’s grandfather fished every morning and served up his daily catch.
“Afternoon, Abuelo,” we all greeted in unison.
“Buenas tardes, señoritas,” he offered in return, a perpetual smile on his aging face. I was glad to see him on his feet again working the stall — it wasn’t the same without him on the beach.
Our matching orders of fish and plantain chips arrived within ten minutes. The perfect amount of sweetness, spice, and chili dust warmed my mouth when I took the first bite of deep-fried goodness. Abuelo refused to share his secret batter recipe, no matter how many times I begged or tried to bribe him with candies.
When I found him over the winter, he made me promise to keep it to myself. I helped the old man to the ferry, then we drove to the nearest hospital. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was ill.
I’d visited him every day, wondering why he didn’t phone relatives or even call Dante. Now I knew why. Cell phone reception wouldn’t reach the ocean floor.
“Gracias,” I chirped to him. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Abuelo would be missed one day, not only for his fish, but for his sense of humor and terrible jokes.
This plan has to work. Dante should be here with him. And me!
“Oh look, no wonder you wanted to come this way. There’s Dante now.” Pam nudged me in my ribs as we walked down the beach with our food.
“It was Julia’s suggestion, remember?” But I hadn’t argued against it, hoping to see him. I regretted listening to her.
Dante had his hands on the hips of one of the resort’s regulars, a middle-aged woman with a big fat diamond on her left hand who always came without her husband. He coaxed her through the proper stance while she stood on a surfboard laid out on the sand. The woman’s barely there bikini wasn’t great surf attire.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mrs. Courtland actually get on a board in the water,” Pam pointed out.
“As much money as she throws at lessons she should be a pro,” I griped.
“His job could be worse. With that body he could give Channing Tatum a run for his money and be in the next Magic Mike,” Julia said.
I grimaced. “Yeah. Point.” At least he was clothed. Somewhat. The sun gleamed over his tanned limbs and toned back, highlighted by the sweat glistening on every muscle.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. They’re always throwing themselves at him.” Julia rubbed my arm.
“I’m not upset,” I lied, failing to conceal my forlorn expression.
“You are, but it’s okay to be a little upset. Come on. We have a Netflix marathon to watch and we’re dragging you along for the ride.”
Wine, chocolates, and movies. It sounded like the makings for a perfect girls’ night in.
***
I writhed beneath him, our legs tangled in the sheets, his heavier bulk a warm blanket over my healthy curves. Dante’s lips were the perfect cure for a sleepless night, his hands the only remedy for my insomnia. With one hard thrust, he claimed me and slid to meet the perfect depth.
“Do you know how much I need you?” he whispered against my lips.
My answer escaped in a groan. My body trembled, captive by the frenetic rhythm of his thrusts, his balls slapping against me. On the brink of climax, I buried my nails into his back and gasped his name as he drove forward again.
Riiiiing.
My dream hottie evaporated. The only thing sprawled over me was a rumpled blanket. A dream. He hadn’t visited me that night to apologize for his abrupt exit, and my wild imagination had worked my body up to a feverish state of excitement in his place.
Riiiiiing.
“Crap!” I dove for the phone on the bedside table and plucked it from the cradle. “Hello?”
“Hi, Alessa! Did I wake you?” My
We finished our shopping and decided to follow the beach route back toward our residences. Crowds were thinner in spring than during the summer, but everything was open, including our favorite little fish hut. Dante’s grandfather fished every morning and served up his daily catch.
“Afternoon, Abuelo,” we all greeted in unison.
“Buenas tardes, señoritas,” he offered in return, a perpetual smile on his aging face. I was glad to see him on his feet again working the stall — it wasn’t the same without him on the beach.
Our matching orders of fish and plantain chips arrived within ten minutes. The perfect amount of sweetness, spice, and chili dust warmed my mouth when I took the first bite of deep-fried goodness. Abuelo refused to share his secret batter recipe, no matter how many times I begged or tried to bribe him with candies.
When I found him over the winter, he made me promise to keep it to myself. I helped the old man to the ferry, then we drove to the nearest hospital. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was ill.
I’d visited him every day, wondering why he didn’t phone relatives or even call Dante. Now I knew why. Cell phone reception wouldn’t reach the ocean floor.
“Gracias,” I chirped to him. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Abuelo would be missed one day, not only for his fish, but for his sense of humor and terrible jokes.
This plan has to work. Dante should be here with him. And me!
“Oh look, no wonder you wanted to come this way. There’s Dante now.” Pam nudged me in my ribs as we walked down the beach with our food.
“It was Julia’s suggestion, remember?” But I hadn’t argued against it, hoping to see him. I regretted listening to her.
Dante had his hands on the hips of one of the resort’s regulars, a middle-aged woman with a big fat diamond on her left hand who always came without her husband. He coaxed her through the proper stance while she stood on a surfboard laid out on the sand. The woman’s barely there bikini wasn’t great surf attire.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mrs. Courtland actually get on a board in the water,” Pam pointed out.
“As much money as she throws at lessons she should be a pro,” I griped.
“His job could be worse. With that body he could give Channing Tatum a run for his money and be in the next Magic Mike,” Julia said.
I grimaced. “Yeah. Point.” At least he was clothed. Somewhat. The sun gleamed over his tanned limbs and toned back, highlighted by the sweat glistening on every muscle.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. They’re always throwing themselves at him.” Julia rubbed my arm.
“I’m not upset,” I lied, failing to conceal my forlorn expression.
“You are, but it’s okay to be a little upset. Come on. We have a Netflix marathon to watch and we’re dragging you along for the ride.”
Wine, chocolates, and movies. It sounded like the makings for a perfect girls’ night in.
***
I writhed beneath him, our legs tangled in the sheets, his heavier bulk a warm blanket over my healthy curves. Dante’s lips were the perfect cure for a sleepless night, his hands the only remedy for my insomnia. With one hard thrust, he claimed me and slid to meet the perfect depth.
“Do you know how much I need you?” he whispered against my lips.
My answer escaped in a groan. My body trembled, captive by the frenetic rhythm of his thrusts, his balls slapping against me. On the brink of climax, I buried my nails into his back and gasped his name as he drove forward again.
Riiiiing.
My dream hottie evaporated. The only thing sprawled over me was a rumpled blanket. A dream. He hadn’t visited me that night to apologize for his abrupt exit, and my wild imagination had worked my body up to a feverish state of excitement in his place.
Riiiiiing.
“Crap!” I dove for the phone on the bedside table and plucked it from the cradle. “Hello?”
“Hi, Alessa! Did I wake you?” My
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