Beaches and memories...

I'm not a summer person. Never have been. I like the soft breezes of spring, the crisp air of autumn. As far as I'm concerned, you can take summer and winter off the calendar, except for July 4, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's. Those days can stay. :)

We're charged with writing about beach scenes this month. I have one from This Time When We Touch, an erotic paranormal about a love that wasn't meant to be but has endured through time.

http://www.amazon.com/This-Touch-Siren-Publishing-Classic-ebook/dp/B00MPZF2H4/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408112339&sr=1-2

Blurb:

Fate has cruelly torn them apart through the centuries…

Endless desire and unparalleled love will bring them together a final time.

Through numerous reincarnations, Jade Jacome has adored one man. His love for her has repeatedly led to her murder, always on the same day and time. Jade’s scientific research proves this is their final rebirth, her last chance to outwit destiny and fulfill their passion. Against a backdrop of Brazil’s lushly decadent Carnaval, Jade has forty-eight hours to meet and tempt her lover, now known as Patrick Kane, then break fate’s deadly pattern.

Irresistibly drawn to Rio, Patrick senses Jade’s yearning that matches his. Seeing her again, time stops. Though they’ve never met in this life, he feels their connection, and that she’s in danger because of him. Baffled and unsettled, Patrick resists his attraction to Jade to keep her safe.

In a contest of wills and shameless seduction, Jade must gamble all, even her life, before the anniversary of their first separation or risk losing Patrick forever.

Excerpt:

It’s time, she thought. More than a hundred years in the making.

His attention inched toward her, driven by their shared histories and his enduring love.

Jade’s belly fluttered with expectation at what might happen. Her heart beat painfully as he studied one woman after the other, frustration tightening his features.

Advancing another step, he halted suddenly, his eyes at last reaching hers.

The crowd’s racket faded beneath the rush of blood in Patrick’s ears. He stared at the woman, unable, unwilling to look away.

She held his gaze.

Yearning tore through him so quickly, Patrick had to stop himself from moving closer, taking her in his arms, holding her close.

The others on the beach grew shadowy and indistinct. Voices faded. Sand and sea shifted, morphing into a different land. One Patrick vaguely recalled and could see was from another time.

Instead of coconut suntan lotion and the pungent scent of the Atlantic, he smelled dusty air baked by the sun, and saw endless fields of wheat rippling in the breeze. Cattle grazed peacefully. Burly black pigs squalled near a mud hut. A stream cut through a stand of cork and olive trees.

Sun sparkled like thousands of diamonds on water that flowed past his feet, calves, and knees. Silky cool mud squished between his toes.

What seemed to be love flared in the woman’s green eyes, further softening her features. A welcoming smile broke across her delicate mouth, creating two dimples. 

Pure wonder overcame him. He couldn’t look at her enough to satisfy his lust, heart, and soul.

Reddish-brown hair, shiny and thick, cascaded down her back, the tendrils around her exquisite face wiggling in the wind. Her slender throat bobbed gently with her swallow. Even before he looked, he knew three moles circled her navel, the marks he’d been looking for.

It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

For some reason, he expected her to be wearing a yellow gown, elegant and modest in design.

Clothed in a thong the locals called fio dental or dental floss, she seemed unaware or unconcerned that its bronze color matched her skin, creating an illusion of nudity. The tips of her nipples strained against the stretchy fabric that barely contained her full breasts. No more than a scrap of cloth hid her cunt from him and not very well. The Lycra revealed the outline of her slit that led to her hot, wet sheath.

His lungs burned for air. Steadying himself, he dug his toes in the mud, feeling the bite of sand instead. Surprised and confused, he looked down.

Her voice whispered in his mind, “Esta vez cuando tocamosa.”

The words lingered, chasing away the remaining sounds until they disappeared, leaving a heavy silence. He managed a swallow and a shallow breath that left him hungry for more. Lifting his face, he stared at her, tenderness overwhelming him. Her voice, her promise echoed in his thoughts.

Esta vez cuando tocamosa. This time when we touch.

Hope roared through him with the arrogance of youth, followed by a broken man’s despair. He stopped lifting his hand to invite her closer. Unease crept through him. A warning rang in his mind to keep his distance, to do everything he could to keep her safe.

Above, a gull cried out, interrupting his apprehension, bringing with it the other sounds. Women laughed, men boasted, children shrieked. The reality and normalcy of the beach intruded.

Unsteady, Patrick blinked. What in the hell was happening?

Rubbing water from his eyes, he didn’t immediately look up, concerned that she’d vanished. That she hadn’t been real to begin with.

Her patient gaze told him how wrong he was. She regarded him as though no one else existed.

Patrick’s chest pumped with his erratic breaths. Blood flowed to his groin. His cock thickened painfully wanting inside her sweet cunt.

Just as he was about to act on impulse and go to her, a man from behind caught Patrick’s attention. He looked to be in his early thirties. Although she seemed unaware of him, he stared at her naked ass and legs, his attention more than appreciative. It was fucking possessive, possibly jealous. The kind of prick who talked with his fists to keep a woman in line.

Patrick went hot with outrage, his only thought to see that she was safe. He crossed the beach, stopping directly in front of her. She lifted her face to his, her expression guileless, brimming with what seemed to be adoration.

Baffled…grateful, he recalled her voice in his mind. Or what he thought had been her voice.

This time when we touch.

He remembered his concern, the insane idea that he had to protect her. From the guy behind her? Some other man? Or from himself?

The thought should have struck him as crazy, but he couldn’t dismiss it. Taking a step back, Patrick asked what he had to know but was afraid to face, “Who are you?”

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