by Beth Michele
I watch with eyes that can no longer hold back tears as his fingers curl around the knob, hesitating. His internal struggle showing in the white of his knuckles, the rise of his chest. In the end, we both lose, because he twists the knob and walks out the door.
My limbs are numb, prickly, as if my whole body has fallen asleep. Part of me wants to collapse to the carpet and the other part wants to run after him. But I’m not the kind of girl to chase after a guy, no matter how badly I want this particular one. And this disease. I’m terrified for him. I have no idea what this means for his future but I do know that we’re stronger together than apart. How can he not see that? He’s so concerned about hurting me later that he doesn’t see how much he’s hurting me now. Still, I don’t know how to save him from this. That all-too-familiar feeling of helplessness creeps over me, circling, making sure I know it’s still there. Apparently I’m not very good at saving people. That’s why when the door clicks shut, I fall to my knees and let the tears flow.
The clock on the wall ticks too loud, reminding me as the minutes go by that he’s not coming back. The smell of the chicken parmesan I couldn’t wait to eat, now makes me nauseous. Still trying to soothe myself, I curl my body inward as I stare blankly at the door, trying to process what just happened. I thought…. I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought—only it matters too much.
I pick myself up off the carpet, wiping my nose and cheeks against my shirt. Padding over to the table and trying to ignore the roses, I blow out the candles and stack the plates, carrying them back into the kitchen. Since my appetite is shot, I cover the food and store it in the fridge.
An abrupt knock on the door startles me. For a moment, I consider not answering it because I’m kind of a mess right now. But maybe it’s Troy, and that would be a good thing.
I leave the plates on the counter and head for the door, doing one more swipe of my face with my short-sleeve. When I open it and see Vance standing there, my pulse races and a tiny seed of hope sprouts in my chest. His expression is completely unreadable and I back up a few paces until he’s inside the house.
The door closes and he leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. More tears spill onto my skin as he mutters to himself, moving his head from left to right. “You and your freaking Mickey Mouse shirts.” Another shake. “You’re like a fucking light I can’t look away from.” He takes two steps until he’s standing in front of me, warm breath fanning my cheeks, palm reaching out to cup my chin. His eyes land on mine. “What the hell have you done to me? I walked up and down this damn block for thirty fucking minutes, and I realized one thing. It’s too late for me to turn away now.”
“You came back…,” I mumble, stunned, messy tears crawling down my skin. “You chose life.” My breathing speeds up as his head dips down until his lips are inches from mine.
“No, Ember.” He brushes his fingertips across my cheek. “I chose you. I love—you.”
And then he kisses me.
His hands dive into my hair, fingers tangling through the wavy strands. The warm press of his lips, the soft sweep of his tongue, the way he holds me—it’s as if there is nothing else that exists beyond right now. The world falls away for me too, save for the sound of our breaths mingling, our hearts beating too hard in our chests.
He eases out of my mouth, his hot breath pouring over my ear and goose bumps prickle my skin. I’m suddenly too warm, my clothes too tight, my skin too wanting—and God, do I want him. His hands slip under my shirt, calloused fingertips brushing over my skin and I shudder.
“Are you… hungry at all? I made food.” My voice is unsteady, breath coming in short pants as his tongue slides along my neck.
“I am….” He blows lightly over the wetness left behind and I shiver. “But I have everything I want to eat right here.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.” I moan, his grin soaking into my skin.
“I have a feeling you’re going to be thinking that a lot tonight.” My pulse skyrockets, the space between my legs growing warm. “I want to do dirty things to you.” He nips my ear. “You don’t mind dirty. Do you, Mickey?” His voice is a low rasp and everything inside me melts. I’m dying to feel him under my fingers. Sliding my arms around his waist, I wedge my hands under the seam of his shirt, dragging my fingertips up and down, back and forth over the curve of his spine. Ridges of lean muscle contract under my touch. His skin is smooth and I want to feel every inch of him. I let my fingertips drift lower, and he shivers when my hand slips under the waistband of his jeans.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I murmur, pulling his hips to mine. His lips continue to set fire to my skin.
Without warning, he throws me over his shoulder like I weigh absolutely nothing. “I’m a little anxious now,” he admits, and I laugh until his strong hand starts massaging my ass. Then I can’t seem to focus on anything but the fact that I want that hand between my legs and our clothes off as soon as is humanly possible.
“You’re awfully quiet there, Mickey,” he says, and I smile as I hang over his back, breathing in the scent of his soap and admiring his legs as they stride up the stairs.
“Just enjoying the view.”
He chuckles, squeezing me harder. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Once we make it past my door, Vance sets me down. I walk over to flick on the dim lamp beside my bed, his eyes following me around the room. “So,” I glance up at him with a coy smile, “clothes or no clothes.”
Vance grins, stalking over to me. His grin alone makes me crazy and my body burns with anticipation. In front of me now, he brushes the backs of his fingers down the front of my t-shirt, grazing the tip of my nipple. That faint touch sends me reeling. “Definitely no clothes.” Grasping the hem of my shirt, he lifts it up and over my head. He tosses it behind him and his eyes glaze over when he sees my black lace bra. The two hours I spent agonizing over it seems to have paid off. “Fuck.” He swallows, raising a finger to toy with the edge of the lace and a slight tremble racks my body. His gaze reaches up to mine. “Nervous?”
“A little,” I reply honestly, weaving my fingers through the fine strands of his hair.
His smile holds a sweetness that quiets my nerves. “We’ve already seen each other naked.” He taps a palm over my heart. “In here.” Taking hold of my other hand, he says softly, “The rest of it, well, it’s just a bonus.” My fingers float down from his temple, trailing along his jaw. “Fuck, Ember. If it helps, I’m nervous too. Nothing has ever mattered to me this much and I want to do right by you.” With every word that comes out of his mouth, I fall a little bit harder for him.
I pull his face down to mine, my lips sliding over his until he opens and the tips of our tongues touch. It’s an explosion of feeling and desire that makes my hand wander to the front of his jeans, rubbing over his erection. He groans, arching into my hand.
“Fuck,” he curses again. His fingers fumble with my bra strap and I laugh because it takes him so long I almost offer to do it myself.
“Smooth, Davenport,” I tease when he finally flicks it open, easing it down my arms.
“Your tits are perfect.” His stare brands my skin, gaze alone making my nipples hard.
“They’re small,” I counter with a grin.
“Fuck that. They’re perfect.” He lowers his head to swirl his tongue around the tight peak. The wet warmth makes me moan and my knees go weak. “I want to taste you.” His tongue continues to flick across the tip. “I want to know what feels good to you,” he murmurs, licking and sucking until my head falls back, giving in to the tingles racing over my skin.
His hands are everywhere, spanning my back, my hip, my waist, as he uses his mouth until I’m barely able to stand up. He bends, his tongue forging a trail along the length of my stomach and my legs quiver. Without realizing it, I find my hands tugging at his hair.
He looks up at me with a knowing smile. “Something you want?”
I smile back but my face is hot, eyes fixed
only on him. “Yeah. You.”
Evidently, that’s all he needs to hear before he rises to his feet and strips off his clothes. Not bothering to wait, I do the same until his eyes blaze, roaming my body like he’s lost in the desert and I’m his only hope for survival. In all fairness, my gaze is wandering everywhere, too. From his broad shoulders down to his toned arms, to a wall of rippled muscle. Then lower to his erection, thick and beautiful.
“It’s all for you,” he grins, and my gaze swoops to his face. “Only for you,” he clarifies, eyes holding an intensity that makes heat gather between my legs.
I’m not sure what I expect to happen next, but he tackles me and we fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter that is so much like us it makes me glow inside. In an instant though, his body covers mine, the laughter gone. All I hear is the sound of our breathing. All I feel are his lips coasting down my neck, my belly, between my legs.
“Oh, God,” I moan, letting my thighs fall open, aware of how wet I am, of how much I want him. His tongue does things to me I never knew were possible, gliding through my folds, back and forth, in slow, lingering circles. “Vance,” I whimper, latching onto his bicep and urging him forward.
He slides up my body, face so close to mine I can smell myself on his breath. “I love the way you taste,” he whispers, and then he kisses me, begging for entry into my mouth that I readily give him. It’s strange at first, but I don’t mind it. “I want to be inside you,” he rasps when he gently pulls back, and I nod my response because the emotion is too much. He strokes a finger over my chin before disappearing to the floor to find his wallet. My mind catches up with my body that this is really happening. But I’m not scared. I’ve never wanted anything more.
I watch as he tears open the package and rolls the condom over his erection, returning to me. No words are exchanged between us, and I don’t need any. Everything I need is clear in the depths of his eyes and the openness of his smile. I know that I’m the only one he allows to see this side of him. It makes a ball of happiness unfurl in my stomach, warm, like rays of sunshine.
“Ember,” he murmurs, breath stuttering in his chest as he guides himself inside of me, easing in slowly. It’s a feeling of fullness that already existed in my mind and heart—and now in my body. “Okay?” He studies my face for any signs of hesitation. But he won’t find any.
“Yes.” I smile, losing focus as he slides in then out, in then out. Long, drawn-out movements that overwhelm me. My hands leave his back and cling to his shoulders, muscles hot and damp under my touch.
“Breathe, Ember.”
Emotion gets the best of me and a lone tear comes out of nowhere and rolls down my cheek. Vance kisses it away. “We just fit—”
“I know. I feel it too,” he whispers, his expression filled with tenderness. I bring my hand around to caress his jaw and smile up at him. He has so many sides, and I love them all.
The wave hits me then, all at once, a series of small gasps falling into the air between us. “Vance, I’m—”
“Let go,” he urges, his body thrusting at a faster pace as he leans down to kiss me. I moan into his mouth, giving him this last piece of myself and waiting for him to do the same.
“Ember….” He groans his release as his head drops, hair brushing against my skin, lips pressed to my neck. “I love you.”
My words are barely a whisper. “I love you, too.”
I feel his smile. “I know.”
Neither of us move as our breathing slows then levels out, returning to a steady rhythm. Eventually, Vance rolls away, disposing of the condom before claiming his spot next to me. He tugs my body close, my back to his front, until no space exists between our heartbeats. A contented yawn lifts itself from my throat and Vance chuckles. “Tired already?”
“Yes.” I wiggle against him. “And it’s all your fault.”
“Funny, I don’t feel guilty at all.” His fingertip skates along the inside of my arm. The tickle brings a smile to my face. “In fact, I was hoping we could go another round.” I hear the grin in his voice and I wedge myself closer, if that’s possible.
“Just one?” My eyelids feel heavy and although my mind wants to stay awake, my body has other plans. As I drift off, a blissful sigh floats from my lips. “You came back… for me.”
“I did,” he whispers, mouth resting above my ear. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Me either,” I admit in a soft murmur, sleep taking over my thoughts. “I really love you.”
EMBER SAILS OFF into sleep. Her warm, bare skin against mine. As her chest rises and falls, her breathing becomes deep and even. I force my eyes to remain open, wanting to remember this moment. To engrave it in my mind. I wonder if that’s possible. If you try hard enough, if you can will your brain to remember something.
But it doesn’t matter now. Any apprehension I had is trumped by this crazy love I feel for her. My chest explodes with it. I’ll admit, being present in my own life is strange. Not allowing my choices to be derailed by a crippling fear of the future. Because Ember is right. Life doesn’t come with guarantees and I’d rather have a shot at happiness with her, than none at all.
I lie awake until the stars disappear and the sky morphs into a black canvas painted in moonlight. The clock beside Ember’s bed reads 2:30am. Not wanting to collide with her mother, I sneak out from beside her and tug on my clothes. As I put on my sneakers, I watch her face blanketed in sleep. This girl—she’s changed me—and I’ll never be the same. That alone makes me smile.
Placing one knee on the bed, I lean close to drop a gentle kiss against her hair. “I love you, Mickey,” I whisper, leaving something for her then quietly slipping out the door and into the night.
Cool air brushes across my skin, a peaceful hush settles over the neighborhood. My heart is a complete fucking contradiction, racing to an insane beat inside my chest. Funny how life can be so unexpected, how it manages to put things in your path that forces you to open your eyes.
As I climb the stairs two at a time, a high unlike anything I’ve ever felt courses through my veins. I can still smell Ember on my clothes, taste her skin on my lips, feel her body moving beneath me. She takes my breath away, and yet, I can finally breathe. For the first time in so damn long, life stirs inside of me, whipping around like a fierce tornado.
A strange noise catches my attention. I continue up the stairs, the sound growing louder the closer my feet get to the landing. I laugh to myself when I realize Julian has a girl over and tiptoe past his room. But I stop short hearing it again—coming from behind my father’s closed door. I can identify the sound but it doesn’t make sense. Static clouds my thoughts as my legs propel me closer. I should walk away. Pretend I didn’t hear anything. But I can’t leave it alone. I refuse to leave it alone.
My gut twists as my fingers tighten around the knob and squeeze, slowly cracking the door open. The sight of my father’s body moving over a woman who sure as fuck isn’t my mother makes blood roar in my ears and I lose my shit. “Jesus Christ,” I bite out, startled by the fucking display in front of me. The muscle in my jaw throbs and I can’t catch my breath. I turn to bolt down the stairs, my head a whirl of confusion. Legs that nearly seize up somehow manage to carry me to the door. My hands shaking, it takes me three tries before the lock clicks and I stumble onto the front lawn, cursing my father to hell and knowing I need to get the fuck out of here. I don’t get very far though. I’m inches from my car when his voice calls out to me.
“Vance, wait.”
I freeze, but don’t turn around. My hands are fisted at my sides, anger coming to a rapid boil. I’m itching to unleash its wrath. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” I hiss through gritted teeth, still refusing to look at the man who disgusts me now. The man I used to admire.
“Good,” he counters. “Because I’m going to do all the talking and you’re going to listen. Turn around, son.” That word sounds vile in my ears. At this moment I wish I were anyone else’s son but his
. Still, I spin around to face him, his commanding tone leaving me no other choice. “Let me explain,” he continues, standing there in a pair of pants and no shirt. He makes me sick.
“I think what I saw was pretty self-explanatory,” I growl. “You’re the one who told me about the birds and the bees.” Then a thought occurs to me. “What was that earlier anyway?” I snap. “That sad, desperate man with the bottle. Was that all an act? Because from what I can see, it sure as hell was.”
“Things are not as they appear, Vance.”
“Obviously.”
He lets out an uneven breath, hands rigid on his hips. “Do you want to know where I go every Friday night?”
My eyes squeeze shut and I bite my cheek. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“I go to see your mother,” he admits, and my eyes pop open as I glare at him in the darkness.
“Do you want a medal for that?” I snarl, jamming my hands in my pockets. He starts to talk but his words are muffled by the horrific moans that filtered from his room. By his naked form hovering over someone else.
“I bring her a pad and some paints,” he adds to whatever I missed. “And I hold my hand over her shaky one, hoping maybe she’ll remember something. When we’re done, she always tells me it looks like an ugly doodle. But you know what I see?” He pauses, the strain in his tone softening. “I see beauty. Because when she looks up, laughing at herself… I stare into her eyes to find the girl I took on our first date to a painting class, because I knew how much she loved it.” He steps toward me and I back away. “I see the only woman I’ve ever loved. The one that I know,” he comes even closer, raw emotion in his voice, “is never coming back to me.”
An anguished breath rattles the air between us and my fury wanes. “She may be your mother, Vance. But that’s my wife in there. And I miss her. And… I’ve been so… lonely. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman, and I’m sorry that this hurts you, son. But I won’t apologize for being lonely. For needing someone. And if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t want your mother to be lonely either.”