Summer's Last Breath (The Emerald Series)

by Kimberly James

  "It's the way it is. You'd think we weren't here first." Jamie threw his napkin on the table as if he were throwing in the towel. "You ready to get out of here?"

  As was becoming our habit, we ended up on the beach after we ate. The nights were getting colder, so tonight I was bundled in a hoodie, huddling as close to Jamie’s warmth as I could get. Wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, he seemed impervious to the temperature, and we’d yet to spread out the blanket he’d brought. His lap suited me just fine.

  Now that my dad had given us his blessing, Jamie had established a list of rules for when we were together, the most annoying of which was our clothes remained on our bodies. He wouldn’t even let me run my hands under his shirt, like I was trying to do now. He immediately stopped my exploring fingers, wrapping them tightly in his hand and slipping my arm back around his neck. His kiss deepened and he was clearly as frustrated by his own stupid rules as much as I was. But I understood them. He insisted on not taking advantage of the trust my dad had put in him by allowing him to see me. Jamie talked a lot about respect, for me and for my dad, and while it was sweet and chivalrous, it was also frustrating as hell.

  “Well, it’s not going to stay winter forever. What will you do when it’s summer and we’re at the beach and I’m wearing my bikini.”

  He closed his eyes tight and swallowed. “Gouge my eyes out.”

  I rolled over on my side, propping my head on my elbow. “Don’t do that. I love your eyes.” I loved his hair. I could stare at his lips forever. And I told him that too. My fingers persisted in their attempt to examine the ridges and indentions under his cotton shirt. I loved those too. Nothing was smoother than Jamie’s skin.

  “I’m feeling a little objectified here,” he said with a slight hiss, catching my hand in his once again before it could sneak farther up his chest.

  “I love other things,” I said, feeling a little foolish but unable to stop myself. “I love the way you are with Noah. I love the way that when I threw myself at you, you tried to do the right thing.”

  “‘Tried' being the operative word.”

  “Well, I didn’t make it easy for you. I’m sorry for that.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

  “Me either,” I leaned over, nibbling on his earlobe, lips trailing to his jaw. “I love you, Jamie. I think we should have sex.”

  His fingers cinched around mine and his body went completely rigid.

  “Erin,” he said, clearing his throat, his eyes falling closed on a long exhale.

  “What?” I lifted my head to look into his face. “You don’t want to?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to or haven’t thought about it. That would be an affirmative on both counts.” He brushed a lock of hair off my cheek, his expression as tender as any I’d ever seen. “But you’re sixteen.”

  “Would you quit throwing my age in my face? Either you’re comfortable being with me or you’re not. Besides, I’m way closer to seventeen now.” Feeling defiant and more than a little rejected, I pulled my hoodie over my head and tossed it aside.

  “Erin,” he started to protest.

  My t-shirt came next. I had on a bra and it wasn’t overtly sexy. Jamie had seen me in less, but he still sucked in his breath. His eyes stayed open, which was encouraging. “If I were any of the other girls you’ve been with would you still be this obstinate?”

  “That’s just it.” He sat up, fixing my legs on either side of his thighs so I was straddling his lap. His hands rose from my hips and cupped the back of my head. “You’re not any girl I’ve been with. As far as I’m concerned, there are no other girls anymore.”

  “I feel the same way. You love me don’t you?” He’d never said it, but he didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder than any words he could say.

  “Yes.”

  “Then that makes this perfect.” I leaned in for another kiss. We’d been at it for hours. His lips, the taste of him, never got old. But I wanted more. “Be my first, Jamie.”

  “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He rested his forehead to mine.

  “Think about it.” I kissed him, catching his moan on my tongue. “Please.”

  * * *

  I didn’t see Jamie the next day. I was almost afraid I’d scared him away with my request.

  The seven-hour school day dragged on and on, seemingly lasting for days. Now that volleyball was over, I didn’t have practice to look forward to. The highlight of my day was when my mom texted, asking if I wanted to go to dinner. My dad was working late. He wouldn’t tell me what he was doing, but Jamie was busy too, so I assumed it had something to do with training.

  “Your father tells me you have a boyfriend,” she said, reaching for her glass of wine.

  “Yes. You met him at my game last weekend.”

  “I remember. He was obviously enamored with you,” she said. “Your dad also said Jamie’s a few years older and already out of high school. One of his boys, actually.”

  “Gee, Mom. I didn’t know you and Dad talked so much,” I said rather snidely. I sensed the “make wise choices” lecture coming on and really wasn’t in the mood. I’d heard it a billion times before.

  “We’re your parents. We keep each other informed. It’s what parents do when they’re raising a daughter.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling instantly guilty. I’d wanted to tell her about Jamie, but for some reason, I hadn’t. Something told me she wouldn’t wholly approve, and I didn’t want anyone else telling me Jamie and I were a bad idea.

  “So are you going to tell me he’s too old for me.” I picked at the bread on my plate.

  “No. But I will say, while having a boyfriend at your age is exciting, it’s also a responsibility. And it’s obvious you’re crazy about him.”

  “Yeah. He’s pretty great.” It was hard not to smile when talking about him. “He’s also…”

  Would my dad have mentioned that too? That Jamie was different?

  “I know the Jacobs, Erin. I understand Jamie’s exotic appeal. He’s very handsome.” Her lips curled ruefully. “But I would say this about anyone, be careful and you know…”

  “Make wise choices,” we said in unison.

  We laughed and conversation drifted away from the topic of me and Jamie and we ended up having a pleasant time together. Sometimes I didn’t get it. My mom was great. My dad was great. And when I hugged my mom goodbye in front of the restaurant, I wished for the millionth time they could have been great together.

  After I got home, I worked on a paper on a topic I had absolutely no interest in that was due at the end of the week. I didn’t get far and ended up giving up and going to bed, even though I wasn’t tired.

  I clicked off the light and lay on top of my bedspread, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the nights Jamie and I spent gazing at the stars.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, my brow furrowed. My ceiling appeared to be coming to life. I blinked, unsure what I was seeing. My mouth fell open on an inhale. Stars. I was seeing stars. Upwards of a hundred of them twinkled across my ceiling. They appeared to have been stenciled with some kind of glow in the dark paint, in all different sizes.

  I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.

  Me: did you do this

  Jamie: yes

  And just like that, Jamie had turned a good day into the most perfect day ever.

  Me: how

  Jamie: magic

  I laughed, feeling light-hearted and giddy. I could almost believe it was magic. Jamie was magic. My life felt magical with him in it.

  Jamie: explain your room

  Me: ?

  Jamie: i took you for more of a skull-and-crossbones kind of girl

  I smiled. My room was the definition of pink—pink walls and pink bedspread with pink lace.

  I fell back on the bed with a stupid grin on my face and stared at the stars.

  Jamie: are you watching?

  Me: yes

 
Jamie: me too

  I didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Are you sure, Jamie? I’ve never done this before.” Jamie was sitting on a stool and I stood behind him, armed with a pair of clippers. The brick under my feet was already sprinkled with dark slivers of his hair.

  I’d come over to his house to hang out for a while and found him on the patio in the process of cutting his hair. Like all of his kind, his hair grew exceedingly fast, but he preferred to keep his short.

  “Yes. It’s driving me crazy,” he said to me over his shoulder.

  “It’s barely touching your ears.”

  “Exactly.”

  Once he assured me there was no way I could accidentally cut him, I set about the task with unreserved eagerness. I was eager for anything that involved touching him, being this close to him.

  “How often do you have to do this?” I slowly ran the clippers over his head, following the contours of his skull. Who knew shaving his head would be such a turn on? And I was pretty sure he felt the same way. I kept having to force him to keep his head still as his eyes followed my every movement. His pulse thrummed in his throat, its cadence a perfect match to mine.

  “Couple of times a week,” he said, voice pitched low and slightly strained.

  I took a deep breath to steady my hand. The blades edged closer to the ridge behind his ear and the fine, translucent membrane of his gills. They were ultra-sensitive, and I took extra care not to nip them. Even with his hair short, his gills weren’t that noticeable, unless you were looking for them.

  Once I made sure the edges of his hair were even, I turned off the clippers, almost sorry I was done. His scent filled my nose. I was now intimately familiar with the back of his head and neck, and how soft his skin was there, the short hairs like silk as I ran my hand over them.

  “So where’s your mom and Noah?” I rested my hand over the curve of his shoulder. His skin felt too warm under my touch.

  “My mom went to a movie with Maggie,” he said cautiously, as though he knew he was walking into a trap. “I don’t know where Noah is. Probably with Jeb.“

  “So we’re alone?” I leaned close, blowing a light breath over his gills, and was rewarded by the visible tremor that skated down his spine. The muscles under my hand tensed.

  Jamie turned his face into mine and my mouth found the curve of his jaw and moved up to the slope of his cheek, and then he was kissing me, scooting around on the stool so he faced me. His hands gripped my hips and he pulled me onto his lap.

  “Well,” I said, drawing back so I could look him directly in the eyes, too afraid to look, too afraid not to. Too afraid to voice what I wanted for fear of rejection, but he knew. How could he not? I’d been throwing myself at him for two weeks. I waited endless, breathless seconds for his answer.

  “Where?” His voice cracked slightly.

  My heart thumped wildly. I had expected him to be harder to persuade.

  “I don’t care.” My lids fell to half-mast. Suddenly nervous, I wondered if, like everything else, he’d prefer to do it on the beach. Every time I’d imagined us together, we’d been in a bed.

  “My room then.”

  He picked me up and carried me into the house, holding me in place with one hand, opening the back door with the other. The living room was dark, the light from the kitchen glowing faintly. The hallway leading to his room was darker. I held to him, heart beating so fast it nearly stole my breath. This was happening. This was really happening.

  “No light,” I said when he fumbled for the switch. He shut his bedroom door.

  I felt the smile on his lips as he walked me over to the edge of the bed and set me down. He then padded over to the bathroom, flicked on the light inside, then pulled the door almost shut.

  “A little light,” he said, crawling back over his bed like some immense jungle cat.

  “I guess you’ve done this a bunch of times, huh?” I asked to conceal my nerves. It didn’t help. I didn’t want to know the answer.

  “I haven’t done it a bunch of times, but I have done it. That has nothing to do with you and me, here and now. If it makes you feel any better, I’m scared too.”

  “You’re not scared of anything,” I said as I watched him pull his shirt over his head, because though I wanted to do this, it was suddenly hard to move.

  “I’m scared of you. What I feel for you. I’m scared of disappointing you.”

  “You could never disappoint me.” I ran my hand over his bare skin, the rounded planes of his pectorals, cinching my fingers at the back of his neck, guiding him toward me.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t say that until after. I had all these plans to make this good for you, but I’m not sure I know how.”

  “Then let’s just do it,” I said, shifting so he settled between my legs. “You still want to, don’t you?”

  “I will always want to. I love you, Erin. Does that make me a jerk, saying that right now?”

  “I love you too. How is that even possible? That we love each other all ready.”

  “Some things are just meant to be, and you and I were meant to be.”

  “Yeah, I think so too.” My eyes tracked over his chest, down the firm line of his torso. The hard length of him pressed against the juncture of my thighs.

  “You do have a condom, don’t you?”

  In answer, he reached over to the bedside table and pulled open the drawer. I thought if I were braver, more of that world wise I wanted to be for him, I’d offer to put it on for him. Instead, I lay there, watching as he peeled away his shorts, pretending I wasn’t scared out of my wits.

  “You’re really big.” I cringed. Could I sound anymore like an innocent virgin?

  Jamie smiled and it made his face look so tender and sweet and I wanted so badly to give him this, to give me this. I wasn’t one of those girls who wanted to wait until I was older to have sex, or wait until marriage. I just wanted to wait for love, and here it was, staring down at me with a face I could gaze at forever.

  “Are you sure about this?” Jamie stroked my cheek and kissed me. His hands worked my jeans down my thighs and to my knees. I pulled my legs free, kicking them to the floor.

  “Yes,” I said and arched towards him, anticipation tight and hot in my chest.

  We spent the next few minutes with our tongues melding, our hands exploring, caressing until I thought I couldn’t be more ready. I ached for him with a need I didn’t fully understand. Jamie was ready too. More than ready. He shook with need and I opened for him. He growled. I gasped, my body tensing at the tearing pressure.

  “Try to relax, Erin,” he whispered above me, asking the impossible.

  We were anything but relaxed. I bit my bottom lip, and with one thrust of his hips, he impaled me. It burned and I thought this wasn’t possibly going to work. He was poised over me, his arms straining. He was so big, and while I wanted this, wanted Jamie to be my first, this was growing less romantic by the second. Giving it up, even to The One, totally sucked.

  “Jamie.” His name was a question that had no answer. I thought he was about to pull away, but I clamped my thighs around his hips. “Don’t stop now,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “This isn’t right. I’m hurting you.” Sweat trickled down his cheeks and fell on my chest.

  “Yeah, it hurts. That’s how it works the first time. If it weren’t you hurting me, it would be someone else. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” he said, grinding his hips forward. "No one else. Ever.”

  I wanted it to be nice. I wanted to make Jamie happy, but the faster he moved, the more I wanted it over. And then it was, and he rolled off me, chest heaving and we both lay there, staring at the ceiling. My chest hurt and the space between my legs throbbed. I squeezed my eyes shut, damning the tears that wanted to spill.

  “Well, shit,” he finally said, a distinct bite to his words. “That was awful.”

  I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I covered
my face with my hands and burst into tears.

  “No, no, no, Erin. That’s not what I meant.” He tried to pry my hands away from my face but I wouldn’t let him. I wanted to be so grown up about the whole thing and here I was, crying like a baby, like a girl who wasn’t ready. And oddly enough, I didn’t feel like a woman. I felt insanely embarrassed. I rolled away from him, squeezing my legs together, ignoring the sticky warmth.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, placing his big hand over my shoulder. “Please look at me.”

  “I can’t,” I cried into the pillow. But Jamie wouldn’t be denied. He coaxed me around and cradled my head to his chest, holding me against his warm body.

  “You’re so damn perfect and feel so good. I’m the one at fault, not knowing how to make this better for you.” He wiped the tears from my face, his lips following his fingers until they covered my mouth in a deep, probing kiss. Despite the fire burning between my legs, I responded to the ministrations of his tongue, determined we would get this right. Maybe not tonight. I seriously doubted Jamie would do it again even if I wanted to.

  “We’re doing this again and again,” I said, “until it’s good for both of us.”

  He groaned, planting his face in the crook of my neck. “Thank you, thank you. God Erin, I love you.”

  I giggled under the tickle of his breath, releasing the pent up tension. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’m a mess.”

  “Do you need some help?” He rolled off of me.

  “No.” I jumped up, following the sliver of light coming from the bathroom. I closed the door behind me, took a few seconds to catch my breath, and then sat down on the toilet and set about cleaning myself.

  The first wipe of toilet paper came away stripped with bright red blood. I sucked in a breath and held it while I continued, though it seemed to do little good. I felt the edge of panic and stamped it down. Before I knew it, the roll of toilet paper was empty. I wasn’t prepared for this. Was all this blood normal? I’d expected blood. I’d expected pain. But not this never ending geyser. Not this searing ache as though I’d been ripped apart.