by Peiri Ann
“Just about.”
“I just knew you all would be late.”
“Nope.” I walk over to him. “Not late.”
“I see. You all seem nice.”
“What do you mean?”
“You two wear feelings for each other on your shoulders. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Well, how do you feel?”
“You’re growing up, but you’re still young.”
“Humph, that’s understanding.” I hug his middle. “But I cannot help how I feel; although, I can say we’ll take it a minute at a time.” Lie!
“Well, that’s all I can ask. You’re old enough to make wise decisions, and pretty soon you’ll be off on your own—at school—and I’ll expect for you to be responsible and cautious. And I do not want you to have any children until you are thirty.”
“Dad!” He did not just say that. “I’m not planning on having any kids right now anyway. But thirty?”
He shrugs and hugs me back. “I love you, ladybug. And Nathan seems like a nice guy. I will still have a talk with him, but he seems put together well.”
“He is, but I’m really tired and I’m going to head to bed.” I head up the stairs. “See you in the morning.”
“Me too.” He heads up the stairs behind me, and we both go our separate ways to our bedrooms.
I walk in my room, and Nathan’s sitting on my chaise, with his face in his phone. I walk over to him and he spreads out one arm, welcoming me to lie against him, not taking his eyes from his phone.
“What’s going on?”
He lets out a harsh breath. “Taylor tried to kill my father for trying to kill Justin. And now everybody is texting and calling me. I told them I was with you, but they act like it was a change of subject and then started asking me about you.” His phone vibrates. “I’m trying to find Taylor, but she is not answering me, and Justin isn’t going to answer if Taylor tells him not to.”
“Do you need to go?”
“Probably, but I’m not going to.”
“We can go check on it together.”
He finally looks at me. “Not happening.”
“Why not? I’m really tired of you doing things without me. And I want to make sure Taylor is okay too. We’ll leave and come back before morning.”
“Or, we’ll sit here and wait until morning and then I’ll go and see what happened.”
“Nathan,” I wine.
“Tracey.” He mocks my tone.
“Nathan, this overprotective thing is really putting a danker in our relationship.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You cannot keep me locked away. It’s better to be by your side than on my own.”
He puts his phone down and pushes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know.”
“You’ll teach me, I’ll learn, and we’ll concur. All.”
“Where do you get this stuff?” He looks at me through low eyes. Very sexy.
“I don’t know, but—” I turn to straddle him. “I do know that you owe me a kiss goodnight.”
He wraps both of his arms around me tightly. “Is that right?”
I raise an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact.”
He grips my chin lightly pulling my face to his. “Humph,” he sounds, turning his mouth into a line, while shrugging his shoulders. “You might be onto something.” I lean down, kissing him. He doesn’t kiss me back. “You happy now?”
“Un-hun.” I shake my head.
He sits up on the chaise, taking me with him. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“Me, you, my truck.” I remember the night we relived my dream and how I ruined it, not being able to control my damn hormones. “With the ice broken, thanks to you, you wouldn’t need to control those hormones.”
“Is that right?”
“As a matter of fact,”
“Touché.”
He kisses me deep, and I forget about everything but us in his truck. I grab the back of the chaise as he rubs his fingers through the back of my hair. I love the way that feels. His hands there sends tremors through me.
I can’t help myself, craving for more. I push against him until I feel hardness. He scoots down, making my efforts easier. Feeling it also sends shivers over me, enticing me. I lower against it and his hand grabs my waist, moving in a grind against it.
He stops kissing my mouth, moving to my neck. It feels amazing. I don’t know what type of magical buds lie on his tongue or what form of skin is placed upon his lips, but I am so grateful for it.
I rub my hand over his neck and up into his hair. It’s so soft. He kisses under my neck, moving to the other side. His other hand moves to grab my breast, as he kisses me slowly, making his way up to the space behind my ear. My body tingles as he hits that intense spot on my body. Both of his hands move to grab my thighs.
I lose it, letting a moan escape. He pulls back quickly, his eyes that hypnotizing ocean-blue. I let out a soft breath, upset that he stopped. His grip loosens and I lean in, placing a soft kiss against his lips.
“Sorry.”
“You’re starting something.”
“So finish it.” I move to kiss his neck.
He grabs my waist. “Your dad is here.”
“I’ll be quiet.” I start nibbling his ear.
He lets out a quiet, throaty, short-moaned chuckle. “No, you won’t.” He pulls me down against him harder. “Not with what you’re doing to me.”
I bite my bottom lip, containing my spasm. “Nathan.” He shivers at the tone of my voice, saying his name. “Give me what I want.”
“Tracey, you are killing me.”
“Not yet.” I bite onto his neck, and then kiss the same spot, while at the same time, grabbing the edge of his shirt to take it off.
“You are a very bad influence.”
“Blame yourself.”
He chuckles, shirt coming over his head. He catches me in a kiss, once it’s off, a seductive kiss that sends my hormones raging worse than they were. “The moment you make a sound, I’ll pull away, no matter what the circumstances.”
He won’t. “Okay.”
“You—” I cut him off with a kiss. No more talking.
He stands, picking me up with him, and walks over to my bed. He only lays me down, bending over me. He kisses me, and unbuttons my shirt without using his hands. I bite my lip to hold it together.
He pushes his hand through my hair, while making out with my neck. His other hand moves to my thigh and grabs it firmly, pressing his lower body against mine unexpectedly. I gasp a little too loudly. No, it was a moan.
He instantly pulls back.
Shit! I curse myself over and over in my head. “Nathan, please.”
“No, Tracey. I told you.” He takes off my shoes. “One sound.”
“That was an accident.”
He takes off my pants. “Get in the bed, accident,” he says condescendingly.
“Nathan, do not be like this,” I say, reluctantly climbing into bed. He is so wrong.
He takes off his shoes and jeans, and lies beside me in his shorts. “Calm down, and go to sleep, babe,” he says, pulling me to him.
“You are so wrong, Nathan,” I say, getting comfortable next to him.
He chuckles. “I love you, Tracey.”
Lying here, I can’t go right to sleep, like I usually do when I lay next to him. I’m still not tired. That dream from earlier is keeping me awake. I turn over into Nathan’s chest; his scent should calm my nerves. It does, helping me to relax. He’s already asleep.
“What’s wrong, Tracey?”
“I thought you were sleep.”
“How can I sleep with your brain going a thousand miles an hour?”
“I thought you stopped peeking into my head.”
“Tracey, I can’t stop; it just comes to me. I only peek when I’m looking for something. But that’s beside the point. Why can’t you sleep?”
You shoul
d know—peeking in my head and all. I’m not going to be an ass. “That dream freaked me out.” And you won’t give me what I want.
I hear a chuckle in his chest. “You want me to calm you?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. “Umm, yes.” I say, more as a question. “How does that work?” I move to look at him; his eyes are closed. Aww, he’s tired. I’ve never seen him this tired before. And here I am keeping him awake. “Sorry, Nathan. Just hold me. I’ll forget about it and fall asleep.”
“I’ll help a little.” He pulls me back to him. “Close your eyes.”
I close them and my mind is full of images of me and him, things that we’ve done, and what seems like things he wants to do, which I wouldn’t mind doing. I relax and pass out.
19: Unforeseen
I wake up warm. Nathan is still relaxed, indicating he’s still sleeping. He’s on his back and I’m lying on his chest. I lift my hand to see how it looks today and the vines are not as visible as they were yesterday, even after Nathan made them go away.
It makes me feel better. I was worried I would have had to walk around in gloves and long sleeves for the rest of my life. I’m curious to know what it is and what it’s supposed to do.
Nathan said something about fire or heat, so I think about those two things. Nothing happens. I close my eyes and remember when I was at the beach and my hands became very hot as I watched Nathan go back and forth with those ‘eels’—as he had called them. I was angry, so I think about being angry and the things that make me angry. Nothing happens. My hand doesn’t get hot, and I do not feel anything different.
Nathan and those guys persist in my mind. It irritates me that I had to sit around and wait. I wanted to slap a couple of people too. I felt I needed to help. He wants to keep me nestled and safe, but I want to get in there, be at his side, and help him. I couldn’t take looking at those guys with their hands around his neck, trying to hurt him. I ball my fist at the thought, and my hand starts to warm. Whoa.
I look at it and it starts turning black again. I did something to spark it. It starts fading away as I acknowledge it. Okay, what was it that I had said, or did, or rather, felt? No, nothing that I had felt, because I got angry and nothing happened. Or did it?
Maybe it’s not what I felt, but what I want to feel, or want to do. My desire!
I look down at my hand and I desire for it to come back. My hand starts burning again. The black starts in the center of my palm, and spreads out. The burn doesn’t affect me as bad as it did yesterday. I watch it spread, satisfied.
Now, what are you here for? What am I supposed to do with you? I watch the vines grow up my arm. They sting a little, and I try to stay calm so I won’t wake Nathan.
My fingers and palm start to pulse, then my arm jerks out—like a nerve moving on its on. My fingers spit fire across the room, hitting my curtains and setting them on fire.
“Oh shit!” I half-whisper, jumping from the bed. Nathan rises at the same time. I throw on the jogging pants and t-shirt that are sitting at the edge of my bed, and throw Nathan his pants and shirt.
“Tracey, what are you doing? What did you do!?” My curtains are blazing.
I’m panicking, not knowing how to answer his questions, making my way towards my room door. “I need water.” I look at him before I open the door.
He stretches out his arm, opening his hand, fingers spread, like he’s telling the fire to come to him. The fire—all of it—leaves my now burnt curtains and snakes quickly into his hand. Once the fire is gone, he closes his fingers over his palm.
I look down at my hand and it’s back to regular. The black and the vines are gone. “Okay, that was weird.”
He lays his head back against the pillow, throwing his arm over his eyes. “What did you do?” he questions accusingly, the words taking their time being said.
I walk away from the door and back over to the bed. “Umm, nothing.”
He looks at me from under his arm. “Tell me.”
“I was curious, and then the curtains caught on fire.” I feel like a child, trying to get out of trouble with a lighter side of the story.
“Curious.” He moves his arm. “And the curtains set themselves on fire?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Well, I figured out what my hand does.”
“Clearly. Mind sharing?”
“Well, I found out that it’s affected by my desires. And when it is, it turns black, and those ugly vines grow up my arm. Then fire comes from my fingers and, I think, my palm.”
Nathan sits up. “Okay, that sounds cool.” He stretches. “Show me, but don’t set anything on fire.”
I show him, first with desire. My hand turns black, then the vines travel up my arm. I want to show the fire and it shoots out from my hand unexpectedly. Before I set the ceiling on fire, he catches it in his hand.
“That’s cool,” I say, watching him.
“Humph, yeah, it might come in handy for you.” He thinks, scratching his head. “I think I can show you how to control it. And it comes down to controlling your want. Minimize your want, and you should be able to hold the fire in your hand.”
Minimize my want. “Like not wanting it as much? Telling it what to do?”
“Yes,” he answers, nodding.
I open my hand in a holding position. I want it to calm down, help me help it to find control. It starts off small, just in the center of my palm, with vines of fire snaking out from my fingers. It grows, until I feel it is big enough, taking up most of my hand. It’s not a ball, but more like a blob of fire moving in my hand. I smile at myself.
“Good job, babe.” He smiles at me. “Now, make it go away, and then the fire I took from the curtains and the air, I’ll give back to you, so that we can see if you can consume it as well.”
“Okay. How am I supposed to consume it?” I look back at my hand, telling the fire to go back. It sinks quickly into my palm.
“That’s amazing,” he says with astonishment, watching me. “Uh, however you make it happen might allow you to consume it. Desire—desire to consume, and we’ll see if it works.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
He shrugs. “Let’s hope it works.” I look at him in disbelief. “Kidding. We’ll fix whatever happens.” He looks over to the window. “Except the curtains. After we do this, maybe we should take them down.”
I look at them too. “Yeah.” The curtains are extremely burnt. “Later. Let’s try this.” I put my hand up, willing it to turn black.
He puts his palm out, turned up. “This may come out fast and you need to want to catch it and consume it.”
“Okay.”
“You ready?” His expression is questioning.
Honestly, no. “Yes.”
Fire erupts from his hand, quickly shooting up to the ceiling. I need to catch it before we set the house on fire. I think quickly. Reaching for it, it comes to me like a magnet. It sits in my hand—a lot of fire wanting to escape my grasp.
“Don’t be afraid of it. Want it back in you.”
I focus on the fire, trying to avoid being afraid of it, but it is a lot of fire and I can feel the heat from it against my face. Changing my outlook, I treat it like it’s a part of me.
Once I accept it and am comfortable, it enters back through my fingers, burning at its entry. It stings, but I can take it, and it seems my body wanted it back as much as it wanted to come back.
All the fire snakes back into me, filling the vines with the fury that they need. I smile at myself, delighted. The last of it finishes, sinking into my palm. “I did good, right?” I say, smiling at Nathan.
“You did.” He’s proud. I can hear it in his voice.
I look down at my hand, watching it turn to regular. “I think I can control it.”
“Yeah, baby. It looks like it.” He grabs me against him, and pulls me on top of him as he lies back down.
I prop my arms on his chest. “Can you come by today? Dad want’s to have a proper meet and greet, talk to
you, find out your morals, see what you do. You know—the whole father and daughter boyfriend talk.”
“I’m already by.” I give him a serious look. He chuckles. “Yes, I’ll come by later. Just let me know the time. When your parents get up, I’m going to go to the house and check on things, and find out what’s going on with Taylor.”
Damn, I forgot about that. “You made me forget.”
“I did not. You made yourself forget about that. Remember this?” He kisses my neck, then my ear, repeating my move from last night.
“Oh yeah, and that’s why you got something started.” He moves across my neck. “And are looking to start again.”
He pulls back. “Nah, not this morning. I can’t take it easy on you anymore.” He flips us over. I kiss his chin. “You’re killing me, Tracey.”
“It seems more like you’re trying to kill me.”
He kisses me. “I wouldn’t say it like that. But I would say I need more—” He kisses my bottom lip. “—of you.”
“I like the way that sounds.”
“Your parents are up.”
“They’re coming?” I say, through wide eyes.
He smiles. “Not in the sense of walking to your room.”
It doesn’t register at first. “Eww, that is so disgusting. Why would you tell me that?”
“You asked.”
“Not the question that you answered.”
He pulls back, getting off the bed. “I’m going to go home, clean up, and check on things. Let me know when you want me to come by, or where you want me to meet you all.”
I stand up in front of him, and rub my hands over his chest, then his stomach. I walk around him to his back—my third favorite part of his body. My first is his face and my second is below his waist.
His head falls back as my hands graze over his back. “What are you doing, Tracey?” His voice is low and quiet.
“The same thing you’re doing.” His back is smooth under my fingers. Muscular, tanned—it flexes under my touch.
I move my hands around to his chest, becoming drunk from his scent and the way his skin feels under my touch. I move closer, kissing the point of his back that is of equal height to my lips. He makes a throaty sound as he touches my hands that rests on his chest.