Breaker's Passion by Julie Cannon

This time, though, her body was alive, every nerve active, her head buzzing with sensation. Her hands were shaking and her legs weak as she staggered to the bathroom. Snapping on the light she splashed her face with cold water. Her reflection in the mirror was one she hadn’t seen in a long time. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dilated, her hair disheveled. She was sexually aroused almost to the point of pain, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. A very long time.

Chapter Six
    Elizabeth woke feeling like a truck had run over her. Her head was pounding and, if she was careful, very careful, she might not end up bent over the pristine, expensive toilet. Of course if she hadn’t had that final cocktail last night, or even the three or four before that, she wouldn’t feel like this.
    After the woman left she was too keyed up to go to her room. She went instead to the bar by the pool and dropped her credit card in the hand of the young bartender. Like the surfer, he was Hawaiian, with dark skin that she suspected was as smooth as the woman’s had been. The waitress was very attentive and, thank goodness, not Hawaiian, Elizabeth was not sure how many more pairs of dark eyes she could handle.
    Groaning, she gingerly got out of bed and, holding her temples, shuffled to the bathroom. The sound of the shower water was like cymbals crashing, and it hurt to think what it would feel like when it beat against her scalp. She tried to brush her teeth, but watching the back-and-forth movement of the brush added to her nausea. Already naked, she stepped into the warm spray.
    An hour later with a cup of weak coffee and a piece of dry toast staying in her stomach, she felt almost human. Her head still throbbed and the bright midday sun hurt her eyes so much she had to put on her sunglasses, even though she was still inside. After dozing on the couch for another hour or so, she ventured out to the patio.
    The beach was crowded, more so than yesterday. Four young kids were making a sand castle at the water’s edge, not far from a man who was apparently watching them. Three teenage boys were tossing a Frisbee back and forth, and Elizabeth hated to think they might be the three who interrupted them last night.
    “Last night, God. What was I thinking?” she said out loud, as if asking would give her the answers she wasn’t able to find last night in her—how many was it—five or six mai tais? She repeated the question, this time in her head. It hurt too much to talk.
    She obviously hadn’t been thinking. If she had, she never would have kissed the surfer, let alone practically had sex with a complete stranger on the beach. Sure, they were in a secluded place, or at least they thought they were, but still… Talk about sand in all the wrong places. Or would it be the right places? She shook her head at the confusion and immediately regretted the quick movement.
    She sat at the table on the patio, a half-empty bottle of water in her hand. The smell of the hibiscus threatened to unsettle the food she’d been able to keep down, and she took a long slow drink. It seemed to settle the rolling in her stomach and she repeated the action just to be sure. It was after noon, which was about the time she ventured out to the beach yesterday. And saw the woman.
    At least she could have learned her name last night. She hated thinking of her as the surfer or the woman or, worse yet, the stranger. Her name was probably something exotic, befitting her heritage. Why was she giving surfing lessons and not running some huge conglomerate, curing cancer, or adorning the cover of some fashion magazine? She had an aura of success, confidence, and something else Elizabeth couldn’t put her finger on, and her intuition was rarely wrong. Maybe she was running away from something—a bad breakup or a gambling debt. Maybe she… Elizabeth saw the woman again. She was walking this way carrying her surfboard. The board that had been against her back while the