When We Touch

It’s all coming back to me—the hands grasping my arms, jerking at my waist, me trying to scream, salt water filling my mouth, drowning my voice.

Jackson is still speaking, “My hands shook, and I almost couldn’t get the seatbelt unfastened.”

It’s in that moment I see the truth shining like the sun, cutting through the green, murky water.

“You pulled me out of the car,” I whisper, our eyes locking. “You saved me.”

“After that day, I felt this protectiveness.” His voice is thick, his eyes grow darker. “You’ve been mine since I pulled you out of that water, Ember Rose. It was years before you were completely mine.” Leaning forward he kisses my lips, my jaw. “Now I want it all. I want everything.” Another kiss… “I want your body…” a kiss… “Your heart... your dreams…” his eyes hold mine. “Your daughter… all of our children.”

Emotion trembles low in my belly, and my skin heats. Holding his scruffy cheeks, I rise out of the water and press my mouth to his. It opens and our tongues unite, curling and sliding together. His hand slides down my waist, over my hip, fingers slipping into my bikini bottoms, making me moan.

“Please,” I beg.

His tongue slides over my neck, his lips close around my skin. A hot pull, a gentle bite, and he plunges deep into my clenching core.

“Ember,” he groans against my neck, his light beard scuffing my sensitive skin.

Rocking in the waves, we move together until we find our release, our souls uniting through the decades.

Twenty-Five

Jack

Sitting on the table, I hold the camera above Emberly as she works. In the late afternoon light, a spiral of dark brown hair has slipped from her high ponytail and is touched with gold. She’s so beautiful. A month in, and every day we grow closer.

“You’re supposed to be filming me work.” Dark brown eyes flicker up at me, and she does a sexy little smile.

“If you don’t stop looking at me that way, I’ll have to carry you upstairs,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes and places the glass bowl on the mixer. “Can you get this?”

Changing my location, I take an angle from above. “Ready.”

The soft hum surrounds us, and I film the white batter slowly turning a delicate shade of pale beige.

“That’s three quarters of a cup of champagne,” she says, holding the glass measuring cup in her slim hands.

Emberly said Donna’s wedding cake is the most elaborate of her career. It’s a three-layer cake with strawberry buttercream filling and champagne buttercream frosting, and Tabby says we have to film it for the website.

So I bought a digital camera and watched the food channel a few days. Everyday Italian has the best camera work, and Emberly is so beautiful. I mimic how they shoot it: close-ups of her hands working, pouring, and slicing, combined with shots of her eyes, her smile, a dark curl resting on her soft cleavage…

“The tiers will slowly decrease in size from the fourteen-inch bottom layer to the ten-inch top,” Ember says in an even, professional voice. “The entire cake will be covered with edible champagne glitter, and a waterfall of fresh white and yellow Gerber daisies will spiral down the side.”

She moves her hands in a waterfall effect as she speaks. We’ll edit and add music once it’s all finished. André offered to help with the soundtrack.

“Once this is in the oven, I’ll start on the cupcakes.” She does a little shoulder raise and grin.

I grin right back, looking at her through the viewfinder. “You’ve got to be the sexiest baker I’ve ever seen.”

“I want a cupcake!” Coco hops up on the stool beside where I sit, and I cut the camera, pulling her onto my lap. “Are they purple monster number four?”

“No, baby.” Emberly steps over and kisses her daughter then stretches her chin up. I gladly take her lips with mine, and our eyes meet for a brief, burning moment. “These cupcakes are for little kids. They don’t like spicy chocolate.”

“They’re dumb.” Coco crosses her arms in a pout.

“Donna’s lucky to get same-day service,” Em says. “If I were a bigger bakery, I’d make the sponges ahead of time and freeze them.”

“You’ll get there.”