The Goddess Of Luna

The coastal highway stretched before them like a ribbon of promise, the Pacific Ocean glittering to their left as Lily's car hugged the curves. Emma pressed her forehead against the passenger window, watching the waves crash against the rocky shore, her stomach tight with anticipation.

"You're being weird," Lily said, glancing over with a grin. "You've been quiet for like twenty minutes. That's a record for you."

Emma forced a laugh, pulling back from the window. "Just excited. It's been forever since we've had a proper vacation."

"Two whole weeks of beach, sun, and absolutely no responsibilities." Lily sighed dramatically. "God, we deserve this after surviving senior year."

They did deserve it. Graduation had been three weeks ago, and the summer stretched ahead of them like uncharted territory, the last summer before college, before everything changed. Emma had spent the past few weeks working at her mom's café, saving money, and counting down the days until this trip.

Until she'd see him again.

She pushed the thought away, guilt pricking at her conscience.

This was about spending time with her best friend, not about... not about that.

"So Dad's been in a mood lately," Lily said, turning onto a smaller road that wound up into the hills.

"He's been working on some big project, and barely leaves his office. I actually had to beg him to let us come. He hates having people around when he's stressed."

Emma's heart skipped. "Maybe we shouldn't…"

"No way. I already promised you, and besides, he needs to lighten up. Maybe having us around will remind him there's more to life than blueprints and client meetings."

Lily reached over and squeezed Emma's hand. "Just... be on your best behavior, okay? Don't do anything to annoy him. He can be pretty intense when he's in work mode."

"I'll be a model houseguest," Emma promised, though her pulse quickened.

The beach house came into view as they crested the hill, a stunning modern structure of glass and weathered wood that seemed to grow out of the cliff itself, overlooking a private stretch of beach. Emma had been here twice before, years ago, but it still took her breath away.

Lily parked in the circular driveway, and they climbed out into the warm June air. The sound of waves filled Emma's ears, along with something else, music, faint but steady, coming from inside the house.

"He's working out," Lily said, rolling her eyes. "Of course he is. Come on."

They grabbed their bags from the trunk, and Lily led the way to the front door. She didn't bother knocking, just pushed it open and called out, "Dad! We're here!"

The music cut off abruptly.

Emma's hands tightened on her duffel bag as footsteps approached. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she told herself to breathe, to act normal, to not…The door opened fully.

Marcus Blake stood before them, and Emma's breath caught in her throat.

He wore a fitted gray athletic shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and chest, the fabric dark with sweat. His shorts hung low on his hips, and she could see the definition of his muscles, the power in his frame. He must have been in the middle of his workout; his dark hair was damp, pushed back from his face, and his skin gleamed.

Emma's gaze traveled down before she could stop herself, taking in his strong legs, the way his body filled the doorway, and lowered still…

She jerked her eyes back up, her face burning. Had she really just...?

"Hey, Dad," Lily said, dropping her bags to hug him. "Sorry, we're early. Traffic was better than expected."

Marcus embraced his daughter, and when he looked over Lily's shoulder at Emma, his dark blue eyes met hers for a brief, electric moment.

"Emma," he said, his voice deeper than she remembered. "Welcome."

"Thank you for having me, Mr. Blake," she managed, proud that her voice came out steady.

"Marcus," he corrected, pulling back from Lily. "You're not a kid anymore. Mr. Blake makes me feel ancient."

But you're not ancient, Emma thought wildly. You're perfect.

She'd had a crush on him since she was sixteen, since that summer when she'd stayed here for a weekend and watched him work in the garden, his shirt off, sweat dripping down his back.

She'd been young then, young enough to push the feelings aside, to tell herself it was just a silly infatuation.

But now, standing here at eighteen, fresh out of high school and about to start college, those feelings rushed back with terrifying intensity. Stronger. More real. More impossible.

"Let me help you with those," Marcus said, reaching for Emma's bags.

"Oh, I've got it…"

But he was already taking the larger suitcase from her hand, and Lily had disappeared into the house with her own bags, leaving Emma alone with him in the doorway.

"How was the drive?" Marcus asked, stepping back to let her enter.

"Beautiful. The coast is always gorgeous this time of year." She tried to sound casual, but her pulse raced as she followed him through the entryway.

The house was exactly as she remembered, all clean lines and natural light, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. The living room flowed into an open kitchen, and beyond that, she could see the deck and the infinity pool that seemed to merge with the horizon.

"I'll take this to your room," Marcus said. "Same one as last time, if I remember correctly. Down the hall, second door on the right."

"You don't have to…"

"It's no problem."

She followed him down the hallway, acutely aware of the space between them, of the way his shoulders moved, of the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with clean sweat.

He pushed open the door to a spacious guest room with its own balcony overlooking the beach. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, making the white walls glow.

Marcus set the suitcase down near the bed, then reached for the duffel bag she was carrying against her chest. "Here, let me…"

As she shifted the bag to hand it to him, the strap caught on her shirt. She felt the fabric pull, felt the sudden coolness of air against her skin, but she was too focused on not dropping everything to register what had happened.

Marcus froze.

His eyes had dropped to her chest, and the expression on his face, shock, then something darker, something hungry that vanished almost instantly, made her look down. “Oh God.”

Her shirt had pulled open on one side, the neckline gaping to reveal the curve of her breast, barely contained by her thin bra. She could see the swell of skin, the shadow of…

"Jesus," Marcus muttered, his voice rough. He grabbed the bag from her hands and turned away abruptly, setting it down with more force than necessary. "Cover yourself."