We arrived by bike, naturally.
I had injected Clay's hands with Cortisone before we left to make the ride down as painless for him as possible. He claimed it worked, even got a little cocky whenever the road was empty to reach one hand behind him to cop a feel. Of course, I teased him right back, shifting my grip around his waist to lower than it probably should have been, using my fingertips to press along the line of his jean zipper.
It was his idea to get out of town. Clay insisted club business was calm enough to step away for a weekend, that we really needed some time together, just the two of us, and that Jax was perfectly capable of taking care of his son on his own. "That's debatable," I had said in response to his last point, but truthfully I knew there was little to argue against, especially with Tara and Neeta around to help with Abel.
We chose to stay in Santino, a small, sleepy beach town about two hours south of Charming. By the time we checked into our hotel last night, it was nearly midnight. I prefered it this way. If I was going to be on vacation, I liked the feeling of reaching a destination in darkness and greeting everything new in the daylight.
After we had unpacked, I stood in the bathroom facing the mirror while I removed my makeup. Clay suddenly came up behind me, lifted my body up and over his shoulder in one quick motion.
"Baby!" I squealed like a lovestruck teenager.
"Time to put you to bed," Clay said playfully.
He walked me over to the bed and laid me down gently. He had already removed the comforter. It didn't take long before our bodies were tangled up in the cold white sheets, limbs overlapping limbs, pulses racing, our only desire to get as close as possible.
Today we woke up intent on spending the entire day by the ocean. I let Clay walk down to the beach to grab us a couple of lounge chairs while I went to the little tiki hut pool bar to get us drinks. Whiskey and soda on ice for Clay, strawberry margarita for me. Why not? I thought. We were on vacation.
The ocean was a vibrant shade of teal and sparkled like diamonds underneath the blazingly hot sun. I found Clay and handed him his drink. He was sprawled out on his stomach, his long legs hanging off the end of the lounge chair.
"Thanks, baby."
I took a sip of my margarita. Very sweet, I thought. I put the drink aside and loosened the knot of my mesh sarong, letting it fall to the sand. Clay laughed as I sat back in my own lounge chair.
"What?" I asked.
"You're killin' every onlooker in that black bikini of yours," he said.
"Oh, c'mon," I said, though I knew it was true. Even after two babies, my tummy was still perfectly flat, breasts still high and full.
"I mean it," he said, pushing himself up to lean on his forearms. "You look gorgeous."
I reached over to cup his face. "Thank you, my darling."
Clay kissed my palm and set his head back down, clearly enjoying the warmth of the sun and the lullaby of the rushing waves. I loved to see him relax; he so seldom did. Our life was anything but calm.
"Gem?"
"Yeah, baby," I said as I smeared tanning oil on my chest.
"I love you."
I loved his voice when he told me he loved me. My husband, my man. Even after twenty years together, I was still mad for him.
"I love you, too," I said, and with that, he sat up, straddling the lounge chair as he grabbed my hand and pulled me over to pin me underneath his body. Both strong hands cradled my face as he kissed my lips and I felt so beautiful, so free of the burden of acting tough, my guard crashing down as it only does with him.