surfing

Take off your dress. Leave the pumps on. Lie down with your hands above your head, don't move..... oh sweet sugar snaps!

His mouth opened, nudging her lips apart, and she let him in. He tangled his tongue with hers and made it impossible for her to breathe without him.The kiss took turns at tender, hot, relentless. She loved them all. She could kiss him all night, the passion and intensity always there -- in her mind, her body, her heart. This was the kind of first kiss she'd dreamed about.,,,She knew he'd just wiped out every other kiss she'd had. Knew deep down in her soul that no one would ever compare to Zane.Her Mr. Right Now.

There was no place else she'd rather be than slow-dancing on a beach with the sexiest, sweetest, most attentive man she'd ever been with.

You think everything revolves around Zane Hollander, don't you?""No. But I think your blush does.

Zane," she breathed, and in the back of his mind, he thought, This woman. I want this woman to say my name on the caress of a kiss a thousand more times.

He softly kissed her lips. "I'm going to rock your world tonight, and then I'm going to do it again. Only different. You're going to come undone, Sophie, every which way you can, and i won't stop until you do.

Montana should come with a surgeon general warning that it's addictive. The sky is big and blue, and the air is always fresh and crisp and scented with pine. There's a frontier spirit, but also a calmness, beauty in the landscape that slows your pulse.

I should have told you the minute I saw you that you look beautiful. I do love the way you look tonight.

Zane," she moaned. "Please touch me.""I will. I'm going to touch every inch of you until I know what makes you sigh and what makes you giggle and what makes you beg me to never stop. I'm going to make you shudder and scream so that long after tonight you'll remember the feel of my hands and exactly where they were on your body.""I'm going to die if you don't get on with it.

Being shaken to death by a Hawaiian tourist look-alike was not how Arena imagined her death.

Being a spy was something like standing on the south shore fending off a hurricane with a $2 poncho and an umbrella.

Internet makes you think that you have millions of friends, whereas you are your own friend.

Surfing's a more profound kind of sport than it looks. When you surf, you learn not to fight the power of nature, even if it gets violent.

We love surfers for the same reasons we have always admired doctors and pilots and firemen and shamans, for the same reasons we admire excellent soldiers: because despite themselves they have bowed to a force much greater than themselves, which in this case is the wave, and submitted to the gnarly rigors of its discipline. They have allowed themselves to be shaped and polished by the sea. They have given themselves up to this greater force, day after day, year after year. Crushed and punished, battered into something tempered and resilient, and sharpened to an edge by constant refinement. They are warriors in the best sense: by bending to the often brutal demands of surfing they have transformed themselves into beings who can respond to great violence with grace and humility. And beauty.

You never really know what's coming. A small wave, or maybe a big one. All you can really do is hope that when it comes, you can surf over it, instead of drown in its monstrosity.

I'm not surfing much anymore, but I love hiking and gardening, and I'm always wearing a hat and sunblock.

The next wave of the social graph is empowering services like Airbnb and Lyft that give people the chance to have that physical interaction. People are more open to that because of Airbnb. Airbnb took couch surfing and took an additional step.

I still feel like my best surfing is ahead of me.