Heart Bones(51)

“I’m not meek, so sometimes my attitude can be misconstrued as being bitchy. But I was lumped in with my mother back home. When you’re judged based on the person who raised you, you can’t be neutral about who you are. You either let it consume you and you become who others think you are, or you fight it with everything in you.” I look down at him. “What do you think people think of you?”

“I don’t think people think of me at all.”

I shake my head in disagreement. “I do. And do you know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I want to get back in the ocean with you.”

Samson grins. “We’re pretty far from the vinegar.”

“Then make it worth it in case I get stung again.”

Samson hops to his feet and then pulls me up. I slip off my shorts as he removes his shirt. He holds my hand as we work our way through the waves and away from the shore. When the water is up to my chest, we stop walking and we face each other, lowering ourselves until the water is up to both of our necks.

We close the gap between us until we’re kissing.

Every time we kiss, it’s as if we leave more of ourselves inside the other. I wish I knew more about relationships and love and all the things I used to think I was too good for, or maybe not good enough for. I want to know how to make this feeling last. I want to know if a guy like Samson could ever fall in love with a girl like me.

A wave crashes over us, forcing us apart. The water completely soaks my hair. I’m wiping it out of my eyes, laughing, when Samson makes his way back to me. He wraps my legs around his waist but keeps his hands on my hips.

There’s a flicker of happiness in his eye.

It’s the first time I’ve seen it.

I’ve been here almost two weeks and this is the first time he’s looked completely at ease. It makes me feel good that he seems to find that with me, but I’m sad it’s not something he feels all the time.

“What kind of things make you happy, Samson?”

“Rich people are never content,” he says instantaneously. That’s sad he didn’t even have to think about it.

“So the saying is true? Money doesn’t buy happiness?”

“When you’re poor, you have things to reach for. Goals that excite you. Maybe it’s a dream house or a vacation or even a meal at a restaurant on a Friday night. But the more money you have, the harder it is to find things to be excited about. You already have your dream house. You can go anywhere in the world anytime you want to. You could hire a private chef to make you every food you ever crave. People who aren’t rich think all those things are fulfilling, but they aren’t. You can fill your life with nice things, but nice things don’t fill the holes in your soul.”

“What fills the holes in a soul?”

Samson’s eyes scroll over my face for a few seconds. “Pieces of someone else’s soul.”

He lifts me slightly so that less of my skin is beneath the water. He drags his mouth across my jaw, and when his lips find mine, I’m hungry for them. Starving.

I feel him harden, even though we’re in the water. Yet still, all we do is kiss. This kiss lasts for several minutes. It’s both not enough and more than enough.

“Beyah,” he whispers against my mouth. “I could stay here forever, but we should probably head back before it gets dark.”

I nod, but then I kiss him again because I don’t really care if it gets dark. Samson laughs, but he quickly shuts up and returns the kiss with even more urgency.

I wish there were more parts of him I could reach. I can’t stop running my hands over his chest and his shoulders and his back. They end up in his hair as his mouth makes its way down my chest. I feel his warm breath against my skin, right between my breasts. He lifts a hand to the back of my neck and I feel him touch the knot on my bathing suit top.

Then he looks me in the eye, silently asking for permission. I nod, and he slowly pulls at the string until it’s untied.

The straps to my bathing suit fall down, and Samson leans forward, kissing the top of my breast. He slowly begins to work his mouth down until he takes my nipple in his mouth.

I suck in a shaky breath. The sensation of his tongue against my skin sends chills down my body. I close my eyes and press my cheek against the top of his head, never wanting him to stop.

But he does, thanks to the sound of an engine in the distance.

He immediately pulls away when we both hear it. There’s a truck down the beach headed in this direction.

Samson lifts the straps of my bikini and reties them around my neck. I groan, and maybe even pout. We make our way back to the shore, even though the truck turned around and headed back in the other direction before it reached us.

We’re both quiet as we pack up our things into the golf cart. The sun is beginning to set on the other side of the peninsula, casting a red and purple glow across the sky. The wind from the ocean has picked up and I look over at Samson for a moment. He’s facing the breeze, his eyes closed. There’s a calmness about him right now, and that calmness spreads to me.

His moods are contagious. I’m glad he seems to only have one or two. I’ve never felt as stable as I have since I started spending all my hours with him.

“Have you ever closed your eyes and just listened to the ocean?” he asks. He opens his eyes and turns to face me.