by Beth Michele
We stay like this, connected, until his chest lifts from mine and he draws back to look at me. “What are you doing to me, Ember Bennett?”
My voice shakes as his hand slips into my hair, tilting my head, our mouths merely inches apart. “The same thing you’re doing to me.” I close my eyes to the lingering scent of mint as his breath brushes against my lips. I’m panting with want, waiting to feel his mouth against mine—but it never comes. After what seems like an eternity, my eyes flutter open to his intense stare. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”
“I don’t want to kiss you, Ember,” he says softly, and I frown. The words are too loud in my ears and I can’t make sense of them. Unsure, I cast my eyes down until I feel his finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll never want to stop.”
My lips part on a faint gasp, though I still manage to speak. “I’m not sure I’m seeing the problem.”
He laughs, the sound mostly air, his accompanying smile taking whatever breath I have left. His hand finds my cheek, his eyes find my mouth. With his fingertip, he reaches out to brush my bottom lip and a ripple of warmth coasts over my skin. My eyes fall closed. “Ember.” He whispers my name in a low rumble before his mouth finally lands on mine. The mouth I’ve been anxious to kiss. And it was so worth the wait. His full upper lip envelops mine, soft, though commanding, and anything that came before this moment is lost to me. I’ve never been one to believe in fireworks, but this kiss… it does something to me. It overwhelms me, taking possession of my heart—or perhaps he had it all along.
His mouth glides over mine, once, twice, before coaxing my lips apart and slipping his tongue inside. Gentle, teasing licks make me shudder and I moan, pressing against him. Through the wet clothes that cling to our bodies, I can feel every ridge, every curve, every bulge. I latch onto his shirt, my fingers bunching and twisting the fabric to drag him closer as his tongue continues to dip in and out of my mouth. He tastes like mint and coffee, and Vance. I’m just getting used to the feel of him when he breaks the kiss, touching his forehead to mine. Water rushes all around us, but all I hear is the sound of our breaths, all I feel is the swarm of butterflies doing a somersault in my belly.
I’m not sure how much time passes because I couldn’t care less about time right now. Vance doesn’t seem to either, but I do notice the chill of his fingers against my skin. “Vance, you’re getting cold.”
“Am I?” He circles my nose with his. “I feel pretty warm, actually.”
“We should probably find a way to dry off.”
Even though all I want him to do is kiss me again.
He steps back, only enough to see my eyes. His finger skims my bare arm and another shudder moves through me. “I kind of like you wet,” he rasps, and my cheeks warm. “You are absolutely adorable when you blush. You know that, Mickey?” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Let’s go to the car. I think I’ve got a blanket in my trunk.”
Given the blanket turns out to be wool, it takes extra effort to get ourselves dry. Once we’re no longer dripping with water, he folds it back up and throws it in the trunk. “Oh, shit.” Vance looks over his shoulder, chewing on the corner of his lip.
I shift around to see what he’s staring at, but nothing unusual is there. “What?”
“I guess I need to get another phone.”
I snort out a laugh. “Ya think?”
He slings an arm over my shoulder and brings me closer, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Yeah, I do.”
I know what I think. I think I’m falling hard for Vance Davenport.
THE SKY BEGINS to change colors on our drive back; pinks and oranges melting together over the horizon. I half expect Ember to want to pull over and capture it on film. I’m about to ask when I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. Thick, dark lashes rest against her cheeks, lips forming a sleepy smile. A loose strand of hair blows in front of her mouth and I reach over with a single finger to push it back behind her ear. She stirs, but doesn’t awaken.
This day—I can’t decide if it’s a gift or a fucking tease. I’d like to believe it’s the former. It has to be—given the way Ember makes me feel. The strange ticking inside my chest. How much she makes me want to laugh—want to smile—want to be present in every moment instead of worrying about what tomorrow will bring.
I’ve tried to stay away from her. To forget the sweet curve of her smile, the simple honesty in her eyes, the funny sound of her laugh. Maybe I need to try harder. Or maybe I should just give up the fight and let the chips fall where they may. Except I’m terrified of hurting her.
“Hey.” Her gravelly voice rescues me from my thoughts. “Where are we?”
I stroke my fingers down the side of her cheek. “We’re home, Mickey.”
She swipes a hand over one of her eyes. “Already?”
“You slept almost the entire way home.”
“Oh.” She slides her feet into her sneakers and lifts her shoulders in a stretch. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.” She squints at the clock on the dashboard. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Just after nine thirty.” Unlocking the doors, I hop out of the car and meet her on the passenger side. “Let’s go, sleepyhead.” I reach down, linking our fingers together. She lifts her eyes to mine with a warm smile.
Awkward silence falls over us as we near the porch. The dim light emanating from the lamppost refuses to hide my unease. I glance away and scuff my foot against the ground, stalling to gather my thoughts.
“I had a—”
We both say at the same time.
“You first.”
“I… this… oh fuck.” I let out a nervous laugh and hope the fucking pavement will swallow me whole. “Considering how many books I read, you’d think I’d be better with words.”
“I think you’re doing great.”
I look up to meet her reassuring smile and it gives me courage. “This was the best day I’ve had in, well, as long as I can remember.”
Her face brightens and she nods. “Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She moves closer until she’s standing in front of me. I bring her hand up to my chest, my eyes drifting to her lips. Because like I thought, one kiss wasn’t enough.
“Good… that’s… really fucking good.” I fumble, my gaze lingering on the sweet curve of her mouth.
“You love that word, don’t you?” she asks, her breath blowing softly against my chin. Her question throws me off and I tear my eyes away from her lips to meet her stare.
“What word?”
Ember’s nose wrinkles. “The F word.”
Her inability to say it makes me chuckle. “You mean fuck?”
“Yeah.”
“I do. It’s a great word, really. I love how it can be used in so many different ways. Like a noun for example. As in, he doesn’t give a fuck. Or an adverb, like, this book is really fucking interesting. Or even as an adjective, like….” Sweeping my fingers through her hair, I let them slide down the side of her face and cradle her jaw. “You are so fucking beautiful. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” Her green eyes glitter with what appear to be equal parts surprise and happiness, and her cheeks stain pink. I glide my thumb over the edge of her lip, anxious to taste her again. “That last one is true—”
She cuts me off with her lips, advancing on mine, soft, seeking. She kisses me slowly. It’s the sweetest fucking kiss, sweeter than I’ve ever been kissed before. Filled with lips and tongue, meaning and desire—and something that makes my pulse rate spike. It makes me hard, too, but I think I could be happy just kissing her like this for a very long time.
She tastes like life.
Like truth.
Like tomorrows.
She makes me believe that maybe these things are possible for me.
A hunger shoots through me and I release her hand to snake my arms around her waist. My palm presses against the small of her back, urging her body closer as her warm
tongue tangles with mine. Her peach scent is dizzying and it consumes me as I take control and deepen the kiss, plunging into her mouth. My hand travels up past her spine, her neck, slipping into her hair and tugging at the soft strands. She lets out a breathy moan as her fingers trail over my biceps and come up to frame my face. I shudder, startled by the effect her touch has on me. The way she holds me makes my heart beat way too fast and I don’t know if it’s fear or something else.
I ease out of her mouth, sucking on her lower lip before dropping my forehead against hers. Heavy breaths fall between us, and I don’t have to see her to know she’s smiling—I’m smiling too.
“Vance,” she breathes. “I should probably go in now, or else….”
I’d like the ‘or else’ option. But all that comes out is this one word. “Yeah.”
Reluctantly, I drop my arms and she backs away. “My friend Troy wants to hang out tomorrow night. Avery is going to be there, and I was thinking maybe….” She draws her lip between her teeth then lets it go. “Maybe you could come and bring Julian if he wants?”
“Absolutely.”
She blasts me with one last smile and I wait until she unlocks the door before heading to my car. I’m about to get in when her voice stops me. “Vance?”
I turn around. “Yeah?”
I hear her grin into the darkness. “That was the best fucking kiss I’ve ever had.”
STILL SMILING, I strut into the house. Julian is sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table reading a sports magazine. Considering we haven’t seen each other all day, the scowl surrounding his mouth is unexpected. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Where have you been?” A bite threads his tone and I have no clue what I did to deserve it.
“I was with Ember.”
His gaze is still fixed on that damn magazine. “Hmph, hmph.”
I flip my keys around my finger and rack my brain for what could be eating him. “All right, Julian. What gives?”
He lowers the magazine, eyes boring into mine. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Is that supposed to be fucking code for something? What did I miss?”
“I don’t know, Vance. What did you miss?” He drops his feet to the floor with a hard thud and when I don’t pick up on the hint, he elaborates. “Dr. Sherwood’s office called here.” He tosses the magazine onto the table. “Twice.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He stands up, raking a hand through his unruly hair. “You missed your appointment. Why?”
I feel around for the phone in my back pocket then remember it’s gone. “It slipped my mind.”
“Bullshit,” he spits, and I haven’t seen him this angry since… Mom. “The thing that consumes your life slipped your mind. I’m not buying it.” He huffs out a breath and some of his irritation along with it. “Listen, just… get in there, okay? So you can know what you’re dealing with.”
I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood, but give him the answer he needs to hear. “I will.”
“Promise?”
I groan. “Yes, Julian. I promise.”
He nods and his features relax. “Okay, good.” Then he starts for the kitchen. “I ordered a pizza earlier,” he calls back. “You want some?”
“Depends. Is it a real pizza?” I trail behind him as he reaches up to snatch two paper plates from the top of the fridge. He hands me one.
“It’s a salad pizza.”
My face contorts and I wince, tossing my plate onto the center island. “I’m good, thanks.” I open and close a few cabinets to check for SpaghettiOs. “If you want a salad, have a salad. Salad is not meant to be on top of pizza.” Finding one can hidden in the back, I slide it out and pop the top.
“And SpaghettiOs are not meant for human consumption.”
“Yeah, well, somebody has to keep the health food rebellion going on in this house. Pass me that sauce pan, will ya?” I grin, and he chuckles, stretching to lift the pan from the overhead hook. I flip on the gas and pour the SpaghettiOs in the pot he so graciously handed me. “Mmmm, I can smell them already.”
Shaking his head, he grabs a slice of pizza and tosses it on a plate before taking a seat on one of the stools. “You’d think you were deprived as a child.”
I open a drawer by the sink, digging around for a wooden spoon. “Aside from our Sunday morning cinnamon rolls and the occasional ice cream for breakfast, Mom did go a bit heavy on the vegetables and that all-natural shit.” My fingers rest on the handle of the spoon. “Hey, remember that time Mom made those Brussel sprouts and she was so excited because she thought I ate them?” I laugh. “But when she was cleaning up she found the big clump of green in my napkin.”
“I remember.” He smiles, warmth filling his tone. “Look at it this way. How many kids can say their mom made homemade bread, peanut butter, and just about everything else?” Emotion lies thick in my throat, preventing me from answering his question. “Vance?”
Little round O’s become a blur as I stir them around the pot. “When I saw Mom yesterday, she knew who I was, Julian.” I turn around and he stops mid-chew, setting his pizza down on the plate. “I knew it would be fleeting.” I touch my head, still feeling the ruffle of her fingers through my hair. “But for those few minutes I had her back.”
He stares out the picture window overlooking the backyard. “I miss that excitement she used to get in her eyes when I’d tell her something about my day. It never mattered if it was something I thought was insignificant. She always made me feel like it was the most important thing in the world.”
“It was, Julian. To her it was. Because… we were her world.”
“I know.” His eyes fall in line with mine, the light dimmer than before. I picture him coming home after a baseball game with dirt on his knees, the devastation of missing a fly ball written on his face—and Mom, standing there, with open arms and a huge smile. Always focusing on what he did right, instead of what he could do better.
“What were you doing with Ember today?” he asks, and I swivel around to shut off the flame on the stove.
My spirits lift at the mention of her name, a smile extinguishing any previous sadness. “I took her to Nettle Creek.” I chance a look at Julian over my shoulder. His eyes are wide, head tilted with a curious expression.
“Wow.” He glances away, blinking a few times as if trying to figure something out. “That’s… big.”
I shrug, attempting to play it off. “Not really. I just thought she might like it there.”
His gaze lands on mine again. “Yeah, okay. That was our special place with Mom, so the ‘not really’ isn’t believable. Sorry.” He takes a bite of pizza, waiting for me to elaborate. My silence only spurs him on. “I guess it’s safe to say you’ve moved past the lunchbox stage?”
To be honest, I’m trying not to think about where we are. We’ve already bypassed where I know we should have stayed.
In order to avoid his scrutiny, I turn to remove the pot from the stove. “I’m fucked, Julian. That’s what stage I’m at.” I heave out a sigh, forgoing a bowl and removing a metal spoon from the drawer to eat directly out of the pot. As I swing back, the expression on his face reinforces the knot in my stomach.
“I’m not sure I’ve seen you like this….” He chews another bite of pizza, talking around a smug grin. “Ever.”
“That’s because I’ve never met anyone like Mickey before.”
“Mickey?” He clucks his tongue. “Awww, that’s so sweet.”
“Okay.” I grab the dish towel from the counter and toss it at him. “That’s enough.”
“I’m sorry but you have to give me a little leeway here, or at least some time to digest this new information.” He plucks a mushroom off the top of the pizza and pops it into his mouth.
“Whatever. Oh, and by the way, you have plans tomorrow night. You’re coming with me to Ember’s friend Troy’s house. And if you’re thinking about saying no,” I smirk, taking another spoonful of SpaghettiOs, �
�Avery will be there.”
He matches my grin. “Then I shall be there too. But seriously,” he pauses, his expression sobering, “before you try to distract me from the conversation, I’m really happy for you. I like Ember a lot.”
A loud sigh escapes as I scrape the bottom of the pot before placing it in the sink. “I know I’m a broken record, but I’m fucking terrified she’s going to end up hurt.” I grip the counter with both hands, my knuckles turning white. “It will be all my fault… I don’t think I can live with that.”
Julian’s sudden grasp of my shoulder forces a hard breath from my chest. “How about you just try to live for a change, and take it from there.”
“NO WAY, MAN,” Troy protests on the verge of losing the third game of Scrabble. “There’s no such word as cambist.” He slams his hand down on the table. “It’s time to consult the good old Scrabble dictionary.”
“I wouldn’t mess with my brother,” Julian chimes in. “If he says it’s a word, it’s a word. He reads books like people breathe air.”
Uncertainty passes over Troy’s face. “Okay, Vance. Enlighten us. What does it mean, then?”
Vance smirks, reclining back in the chair, arms folded across his chest. “It means… a few things actually. But one of them is… an expert in foreign exchange.”
Avery tilts her head, scrutinizing Vance’s face. “Hmmm, I believe him. Makes sense. Okay, who wants another beer and one more game?” She pushes away from the table and tosses a flirty glance at Julian. He wastes no time getting up to escort her into the kitchen.
“I’ve had my fill. Three games is my max.” I stand and stretch my arms above my head. “I’m going to get some air.”