Chapter One

Erotic Romance | Steamy Contemporary Romance | One Night Stand | Vacation | Strangers to Lovers | Steamy | Short reads

As soon as Sophie stepped out of LAX, the California heat brushed her skin. It was breezy and aromatic with sea salt and blossoming jacaranda trees, unlike the oppressive heat of the East Coast she had left behind. The air was liberating.

She was able to breathe for the first time in months.

She called a cab and sighed as she climbed into the backseat, her suitcase rolling behind her. She wore a loose sundress that skimmed her thighs, big sunglasses, and a gold anklet that winked with each leg shift, making her reflection in the window appear almost alien. Two days prior, after calling off her engagement to Damien, she had purchased that anklet in a fit of rebellion.

Damien would have detested this gown. He would have detested her excessively red lipstick and the way she styled her hair down. And she had worn it for that very reason.

Before the hotel, a glass-and-marble utopia with an ocean view, came into view, the taxi drove through streets dotted with palm trees. With the refreshing promise of solitude, Sophie checked in and slipped her room key into her hand.

Just as she entered the lift, a deep voice yelled, "Hold the door!”

Without thinking, she pushed the button, and he entered—a tall man with black hair, caramel-browned skin, and a presence that seemed to shrink the tiny room. The sleeves of his white shirt were pushed up, exposing tiny caramel streaks on his forearms. Hanging over one wide shoulder was a duffel bag.

His voice was relaxed and pleasant, with a hint of California drawl, when he added, "Thanks."

Sophie pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and smiled politely.

"No issue."

He looked at her suitcase below.

"California for the first time?”

She raised her eyebrows.

"Is it really that obvious?"

He leaned nonchalantly against the wall and smiled.

"Everything is being viewed as though it were a movie set. That is blatantly obvious.

She surprised even herself with her unreserved laughter.

"Perhaps it feels that way."

He enquired, "Are you here for business or pleasure?" as the elevator dinged at her floor and she exited.

"For pleasure," she said, maintaining eye contact.

He grinned more broadly, as if he had just won a wager.

"You're in the right place then.”

—

Sophie ordered a margarita and sat down at the rooftop bar, which was a haven of glass and nature with the Pacific stretching continuously beyond the edge.

"Would you mind if I join you?"

She looked up to see the elevator man, Lucas, standing with two liquor in his hands. His smile was confident and sure, giving the impression that he had never been told no in his entire life.

As the sun sunk lower, they conversed. He told her about his upbringing in San Francisco, his summer jobs at his aunt's restaurant, and his surfing before school. She told him less. She made no reference to Damien or the reason she had to take this trip. Rather, she told him about her passion for cooking, her vacation to Paris, which she had impulsively planned, and her lifelong dream.

He stared at her mouth while she spoke and said, "You came here alone?"

Yes, she said plainly.

He put his elbows on the table and leaned in. "

That is courageous." “Or careless.” "There are times when those are the same thing," he whispered.

A single drink became two. The discussion turned into a foreplay-like form of teasing. She had a dangerous smile, he said. His dimples should be banned, she said.

When they emerged from the pub, neon and music filled the city. The sound of the ocean filtered through their conversation as Lucas strolled next to her along the boardwalk. The tide licked at their toes, cold and persistent, when they came to a stop close to the water's edge.

Lucas turned his head towards the patch of sand in front of him.

“The beach is hosting a party. Music, bonfire, and a beer. Would you like to go?”

She ought to have refused. She had assured herself of a peaceful and quiet vacation. Her pulse, however, raced at the way he gazed at her, as if she were already his.

"Take the lead," she said.

---

The sound of a portable speaker banged low. Sophie took the shot of whisky that was presented to her without hesitation. Standing behind her, Lucas lightly but firmly brushed her lower back with his palm.

They danced barefoot on the beach, conversed with strangers, and laughed at awful jokes. Lucas was there each time she turned, close enough for his heat to mix with hers.

She fell once on the rocky sand, and his muscular fingers caught her hip. With his breath warm against her ear, he said, "Be careful."

The chill went straight down her spine.

The water continued to roar its unceasing approval as the night dragged on. Every nerve in Sophie's body was on high alert, but she wasn't sure if it was the music, the booze, or Lucas himself. She kept catching him staring at her, lower, as if documenting every curve, rather than her face.

"You want to see something more pleasant than this?" he asked, leaning in and kissing her temple as the fire started to burn low.

Her heart gave her ribs a powerful kick.

"More pleasant than the beach?"

In a deep, confident voice, he stated, "Better than the beach."

She ought to have left. She didn't.

---

The engine hummed and the weight of unspoken things weighed heavily on the quiet ride to his apartment. With the ocean stretching out below it, its waves sparkling in the moonlight, his accommodation was located atop a cliff.

There was a subtle aroma of salt and citrus in the air within. Sophie didn't consider why she had taken her luggage inside and instead dropped it on the couch. Lucas watched her from the sliding doors with his hands in his pockets.

He questioned, "Do you still believe this is careless?"

Closing the distance between them, she moved in his direction until she could feel the heat coming from his body.

“Sure.” His lips formed a curve.

“Well done.”

And before the night turned into something neither of them could handle, that was their final conversation.