The beach was a pristine sanctuary. The holiday chaos had finally ebbed away, leaving behind a vast expanse of salt-crusted silence. She stood at the shoreline, the morning air crisp and tasting of salt, feeling the delicious solitude. At her age, she felt like a secret intruder in the surf, her movements clumsy and unrefined, but today there was no one to judge her.

She waded in. The water was a sharp, bracing shock against her skin. As a wave broke, spraying cold mist over her chest, her nipples peaked, hard against the thin Lycra of her swimsuit, a physical reaction to both the chill and the rising adrenaline.

The ocean, however, had no mercy for beginners. A massive set rolled in, a wall of churning turquoise. She paddled with a desperate, tenacity, but as she tried to pop up, her balance vanished. The world flipped.

The wave hammered down on her, a monstrous weight of foam and pressure. She tumbled through the dark, lungs screaming for air, until her leg rope, the one she’d left carelessly loose, slipped from her ankle. Panic flared. She was adrift in the whitewater, gasping, until a crushing grip seized her bicep.

“Get on!” a voice commanded. It wasn’t an invitation, it was an order.

She scrambled onto the stranger’s board, her chest heaving as he paddled them out past the break with effortless, rhythmic power. When they finally hit the calm water, she turned to look at her mysterious saviour. He was a force of nature, around his mid-forties, skin bronzed and maps of fine lines around piercing, predatory eyes. His muscles weren’t for show, like those gym guys she sees wandering about. They were dense, functional cords of strength that had been honed by years of physicality, they rippled with every stroke.

She lay flat on the board, her legs draped over each side, realizing with a jolt of embarrassment that her salt slicked sex was mere inches from his face.

“Thank you,” she managed, her voice a breathless rasp.

She moved to slide off his board, but his hand came down, heavy and warm, on the curve of her backside. “No. Stay and catch your breath” he growled. His tone was friendly but dominant, brooking no argument. He leaned forward, his face hovering in the intimate space between her legs. She felt her cheeks flush, and felt the ghost of his breath, a hot contrast to the cool ocean spray, ghosting over her inner thigh. It sent a needy shiver through her body.