When We Touch

Chewing my lip, I can’t stop the onslaught of memories of our first night together. The flinty determination in his eyes this afternoon mixed with my talk with Donna unearthed all those feelings I’d been wrestling to keep tightly packed away.

I’d been in love with Jackson Cane since I was old enough to know what love was, and I’d wanted to be his since my hormones kicked in and my body started changing.

He resisted me because of our age difference. He was almost eighteen, and I took full advantage of the almost that summer. I knew it was my last chance before the steel wall of the law slammed down, cutting off any possible romance between us.

Pushing my door open, I cross the empty space to the back stairs. I’d convinced him to teach me how to kiss… I’d felt what he wanted in that kiss, and if the clock ticking had made me desperate, the fire in his lips made me fearless.

My entire body is hot, and I go to my refrigerator. I don’t normally have wine during the week because of Coco, but tonight, I pour a decent-sized glass of Chardonnay and take a long drink.

Eleven

Jack

Dinner at last, is the Italian muffuletta with a pinot I brought from my apartment in the city. André says it’s too hot for muffulettas, but he guarantees I will love this masterpiece. I’m inclined to agree with him because it smells like everything delicious.

I also convinced him to go out with me tomorrow night. Since it’s Friday and Ember has a fucking date and I can’t hang around this cottage wanting to put my fist through the wall, I suggested it.

He’d mentioned his wife is getting together with Betty Pepper and a bunch of women for the eve of their twentieth wedding anniversary, and it came to me. We can head down to the Tuna Tiki and have a beer and take in some live music.

Leaving the sandwich on the counter, I dig in my pocket for a piece of cinnamon candy. That old barrel of candy I remember from Ember’s aunt’s store is now in Betty’s place, and I couldn’t resist grabbing a handful. The flavor fills my mouth, burning my tongue, and I remember why I was so damn skinny back then. My taste buds were scalded off.

With a chuckle, I take the piece from my mouth and set it on a dish I carry with me into the small room off the kitchen. When I got here, it was furnished to be an office, but I’ve cleared the furniture away and placed an easel in the center. I still haven’t stretched a canvas, but I found a large sketchpad and some of my old charcoal pencils in the bottom of that closet in the bedroom.

A few tubes of acrylic paint I never opened are still like new, but the problem is they were shitty colors. It’s why I’d never opened them. I’ll have to hop online and order what I need to do any real painting.

Pulling off my shirt, I put the cinnamon candy in my mouth and pick up the black charcoal pencil and return to Ember. I have a rough outline of her body standing like a petite statue. It’s the image of her I’ll never forget—the first time I saw her again after ten years apart.

She’s standing in the doorway with the staircase behind her. I now know it leads to her bedroom. I’ve made it more mysterious, however. This is Ember Rose bursting out of the recesses of my past, walking out from the happiest place I buried in the deepest part of my heart.

Tilting the pencil to the side, I shade the side of her cheek, the line in her chin. Her hair is a mixture of deep brown, lighter chestnut, and tips of gold. One dark lock curves over her right eye, and her gaze is set.

Her expression is seductive defiance. Just within reach is the fiery vixen who captured me. I wanted her in those days so bad it hurt. I remember lying awake in my bed aching for her. I knew we were months away from missing out on everything, and I was prepared to concede.

Ember took our age deadline and set it on fire. I longed for her, but she demanded me. She was the persuasive innocent. She knew nothing, but she knew I would teach her. She knew once I taught her, I could never let her go. She would have me forever.

With the tip of my thumb, I smudge the shading on her bottom lip. My tongue slips out and touches my bottom lip, and my insides hum with wanting her.

“I don’t care what you say, Ember Rose,” I whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sitting back, I look at her beautiful image. I’ve been at it for hours, and the sun is gone. It’s purple haze outside, and the moon is only getting bigger. Pushing off the floor, I walk through the cottage straight out the door.

A damp breeze sweeps around me. I’m barefoot, no shirt, only my jeans from earlier today as I walk through the trees to the street. I don’t know what I’m planning to do. I only know I can’t be this close to her and stay away.

Another, stronger gust whips past me as I step out onto the open street in front of her building. It’s going to rain. I can smell the precipitation in the air.

It’s on my skin, mixing with the remainder of the day.

Long, thin clouds sweep quickly across the moon. Everything about this night is disturbed and restless, heavy with what’s to come. I’m breathing hard, my chest rising and falling from how fast I walked here.

Faint light flickers from her windows, and I see the long curtains moving in the breeze. She sleeps with those balcony French doors open. The scaffolding stands beside it like a temptation, daring me to resist.

“Ember,” I say in a voice just louder than normal.

I’m on fire, driven by lust, desire, need. My heart is beating so fast, I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.

“Ember Rose,” I say a touch louder.

Shadows move in the windows above. A lone figure catches the moving curtains and holds them apart. My chest tightens, and I’m sure it’s her. She holds the long sheer in her hand, tight against her side and steps into the window. She’s not on the balcony, but she’s there in the shadows looking down on me.