We Were Carefree as We Played on the Beach

Later that day, we played on the beach, running along the shore, splashing in the surf and chasing each other. He would capture me in his arms, kiss me passionately and then set me free, taking up the chase again…until suddenly he didn’t let me go.

Instead, grabbing me by my waist, he lifted me off the ground. Surprised, I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep from falling as he used one hand to guide my legs around him, the other holding me securely against him. Safe in his strong arms I leaned my head back, laughing, as he walked backwards into the ocean. He stopped when the water reached his bare back, just deep enough to support some of my weight.

It felt like we were the only people in this little stretch of paradise as he dropped sensual kisses all over my exposed skin. I sighed with pleasure as he explored further, slipping my bikini top to the side to gain access to the delicate flesh it concealed. The hunger growing inside of me eclipsed the sense of propriety that usually dominated my actions.

I was so engrossed in the sensations coursing through me that I would have let him do just about anything. Any resolve I had to wait until we knew each other better melted under his skillful touch.

Completely lost in the moment I was startled when he abruptly stopped his assault. He grinned mischievously as he adjusted my top and was wiggling his eyebrows as he set me down in the water, clearly enjoying how he affected me. Struggling to regulate my ragged breathing and frustrated by his teasing I let the waves gently push me with the tide, first away from my tormentor and then against his solid form.

Eventually, tired from cavorting like children, we rested on a blanket in the sand, sipping wine and snacking on cheese kept cold in a small cooler he had thought to bring. He was so good at thinking of all those little details, making sure everything was perfect.

We talked for hours, his voice soothing as I laid on my back watching the clouds drift overhead. Feeling a little drowsy, perhaps from the wine, I listened as he told me about his life growing up. When he paused at the end of one story, I glanced over at him and found him on his side, his head propped in his hand, watching me with an adoring smile on his face.

No one had ever looked at me that way before.

When I closed my eyes I heard him rummaging through the cooler. Exposure to the sun had made my skin warm, and I jumped as something cold touched the sensitive skin where my neck slopes into my shoulder. I felt water dripping as the ice melted against me.

As he ran the frigid cube over my chest and between my breasts he suggested moving somewhere more private, a recommendation I was in no condition to argue with.

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Exposure and is part of something longer I am working on.

This post is a part of the story about the ex and comes after A Frightening War Is Raging Within Me.

What Happens When I Try to Go on Vacation Without Him?

“I’ll only be gone 3 days, 4 tops.” The argument had begun when I told him about the vacation I had planned for the following weekend with some friends. They had rented a house on a river and had asked…no, insisted….that I come along. My friends were starting to feel neglected. If I didn’t spend some time with them soon they would hunt me down and drag me away. At least, that’s what my friend Lilly had threatened, and I believed her.

I really didn’t understand why he was having a conniption about me going away. I had enjoyed the few weeks we’d spent together, more than enjoyed actually, but we couldn’t remain isolated forever.

“I know, baby. It’s just that I’ve gotten so used to being with you.”

This was a familiar refrain that, combined with the lost puppy dog eyes he had given me, was almost enough to weaken my conviction. I too had become used to the daily routines we had formed: waking up in each other’s arms, coffee on the balcony as we shared stories of our past, reading companionably next to his pool, walks along the beach at sunset hand in hand, evenings spent lost in exploring each other. It had been more than I’d ever dreamed of in a relationship and part of me understood not wanting to break the spell.

He pampered me in a way no one ever had before. I was uncomfortable with it in the beginning but who couldn’t learn to love being taken care of so unconditionally, especially on the days I wasn’t feeling my best. Over the short time I’d stayed with him, there had been several times I couldn’t even manage to get out of bed on my own. I had been battling some kind of virus, and he had been there doting on me, helping me get better.

He had been so kind, so caring. How could I fault him for wanting to spend time together? Lost in my own thoughts I almost didn’t hear him when he suggested, “I know you want to see your friends. What if I come with you?”

That seemed like a reasonable compromise. I remember thinking it could be fun to have him along and that it would be great for my friends to meet him. I was utterly convinced I’d found the man of my dreams, why wouldn’t I bring him into my world?

With that settled he pulled me into an embrace, kissing me with an intensity that showed clearly how much this concession meant to him. He poured every ounce of love into that one kiss, confirming unequivocally that we had found the perfect solution. As I relaxed into him he lifted me onto the gleaming white counter without breaking our connection. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, hugging him tightly with my entire body.

He leaned back, looking me squarely in the eye. “Don’t ever leave me,” he pleaded. And in that moment I wanted to erase every hurt he had ever felt, every doubt he had ever encountered.

“I won’t,” I promised.

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Conniption and is part of something longer I am working on.

This post is a part of the story about the ex and at the moment stands on its own somewhere between A Frightening War Is Raging Within Me and Why Do I Hesitate When I Know I Should Escape?

Will I Be Able to Escape This Time?

Rushing to the bedroom I yanked my backpack out from under the tall bed where it had been concealed in the dark corner formed by the wall and the heavy nightstand. Why hadn’t I left when I first started having doubts? What made me stay even after this house started to feel like a prison?

Shaking my head to clear away these thoughts I looked in the bag to make sure everything I needed was still there. It was this type of reflection that prevented my escape last time. I couldn’t let myself fall into that trap again. I needed to leave and I needed to do it immediately. Fortunately I had left everything in the pack when I had hidden it, the clothes, toiletries and my laptop shoved haphazardly together. I zipped it closed and raced down the stairs.

Spotting the kitchen I thought to throw some food on top of the clothes in my bag. I grabbed a box of protein bars, a bag of pretzels, two apples and a banana. It wouldn’t last long but at least it was something.

Just before I dashed out the door, I remembered something else. He kept cash in an envelope in the freezer. I had always found that a little strange. For some reason he thought that was the safest place, as if the refrigerator wouldn’t burn in a fire. I jerked open the freezer door and quickly found the neat little bundle of money. I didn’t stop to count it, shoving it into the small front pocket of my backpack as I hurried back to the front door.

With my hand on the knob I stopped suddenly as I heard a car door slam. This couldn’t be happening again. Looking around in a panic I frantically tried to form a plan. Nearly hysterical I spotted the French doors at the back of the house, and ran in that direction, almost tripping on the fluffy white area rug covering the white tile floor between the entryway and the kitchen.

Regaining my balance I pulled on the handle of the back door, only to find that it was locked. Frustration gripped me as I heard his keys rattle near the front of the house. Blinded by tears and fear I twisted the deadbolt until I could finally open the door.

Stepping out into the bright sunshine I paused to close the door quietly. I didn’t want him to hear the door shut. I needed a head start before he tried to follow, because I knew in my heart he would come after me when he realized I was gone.

My escape had been pure serendipity, but I could only hope that my luck would hold out long enough for me to get away for good.

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Serendipity and is part of something longer I am working on.

This post is a continuation of the following post:
How Could I Fail to See Who He Truly Was?

Bravely Living an Amazing Life!