“What made you go out and buy a Tesla today?”
I peeked over his shoulder at my beautiful new car and exhaled deeply with a satisfied and equally confident smile before giving him an answer. My body rattled with awareness as he inched forward, and I made no move to encourage him or otherwise. I fed off him greedily, and I was sure I matched his heated stare. Taking great care not to touch him, I leaned in as close as possible.
“I felt like it,” I said with a wink. I gripped the handle of the door behind him, and he stepped back so I could shut it. “Night, Jack.”
“Night,” he said, hesitating before he began to make his way off the porch. “Oh and Rose?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“You fucking excel at sexy.”
“If the Kardashians can live with the size of their asses and profit from it, you can get out of bed, Rose.”
The first time I’d ever been kissed was in fourth grade. His name was Jason Hammond. We had dropped pencils under our desk in an attempt to steal a kiss, in hopes of recreating the same kiss I’d seen the night before, but it lacked every single detail and emotion that had made me suddenly curious about the act of kissing. No matter how many times I’d pressed my lips to his under that desk, it didn’t feel anything like what I’d felt seeing my parents do it the night before.
It had been an accident, really. Long after they assumed I’d gone to sleep, I snuck downstairs, determined to devour the last two Twinkies I’d been denied after dinner. When I heard them whispering back and forth in the living room, I froze.
The lights were dim as they stood in each other’s arms in front of a roaring fireplace. I made a beeline for the pantry and grabbed the box. Much to my dismay, I found it empty. Rolling my eyes with defeat, I begin to creep back toward the stairs when I glanced at them and stood paralyzed at the sight before me.
“Love me, Seth,” my mother whispered as he stared down at her with a look that made my heart ache. I was surprised by how much it hurt. I gripped my chest as my father continued to gaze at her with a look of pure devotion on his face as she asked him over and over to love her. He held her face close to his and whispered something to her. She nodded as a tear slid down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb. With a gentle finger, he pushed the strap of her nightgown to the side, leaving her shoulder bare. He kissed it slowly with his eyes closed and she tilted her neck back. I knew I should’ve left then, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. My mother never begged for anything. I’d never heard that type of desperation in her voice, and she’d never looked so… beautiful. He leaned in and took her lips gently. It was all I could do to keep from matching my mother’s sigh as she clung to him and returned his kiss. I clamped my hands over my mouth, though I was barely breathing. When he’d pulled his lips away, he kept his hands on her face and whispered words to her that made her smile. Awareness that I was not supposed to be there raced through me, and I snapped out of my wistful daze, ran up the stairs, and shut my door carefully so there was no way they could hear it. My breaths came out fast as fear crept through me. For a second, I was terrified they may have seen me and I wouldn’t be able to explain myself. When I was sure my secret remained safe, I slumped against the door as my heart pounded and my curiosity soared.
I would never forget the way they looked at each other or the way she’d said his name as if he was the only man in the world who could save her. All I did know was that I loved the exhilaration that danced through me as I bared witness to it. It was the best I’d ever felt, a new craving.
The next day, I’d done everything I could to get Jason to kiss me the same way. At only ten years old, I was chasing that feeling. Frustrated after several attempts, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get it back.
I didn’t realize it then, or even until years later, but that was the night the romantic version of myself was born. A strong and powerful kiss between my parents had awakened the believer in me. I’d spent my early years convinced when I found the person that kissed me like that, I could own that feeling, and with each kiss, I would be able to summon it at will. Lying in my bed almost twenty years later, I knew the rarity of such a gift. That ten-year-old girl had been naïve, but she’d also been right. There were people out there capable of making you feel that way with a kiss, of summoning it with a look. It had never been the act of kissing but the connection between two people that caused such powerful emotion. It didn’t take much to figure that out, and once I had, my search began.
That young romantic grew older and found that person who turned her world upside down with just the feel of his lips. She’d gotten to explore a few short months of free rein and contentment, until the day it ended.
I stopped listening to that ten-year-old romanticist and the woman she grew in to. The romantic in me now remained buried due to years of living in realism and practicality. In my bitterness, it had become relatively easy to ignore her. Years later, she willingly lay dormant and disappointed.
At that moment, somewhere between shaking off the sleep haze and reliving that memory of my parents sharing the most romantic kiss I’d ever witnessed, I wondered if there would ever come a day when that silent part of me spoke again, and whether or not I would listen to her. I put my fingers to my bankrupt lips in an attempt to make sure they were still there and capable
of receiving such a kiss, and then I remembered the only man I knew capable of giving it was long gone.
Penance, that’s what this was. I was paying penance for buying that ridiculous car. I eyed it in the distance as I wiped the dirt off the budding summer squash. I’d been all but shooed away by the men I’d hired to tend to the farm, but told them I needed the exercise and a simple task to keep myself occupied. They’d hesitantly obliged. Think of me what they would, but I needed to be a part of what was going on with the center in any aspect. It was my driving force.
“Mornin’, Rose.”
Cajun.
I loved the sound of it. It was especially sexy rolling off Jack’s tongue.
I smiled into my t-shirt as I cleaned the dirt off my face before I turned to find him holding two cups of coffee, one extended out to me.
“No offense to your gesture, sir, but a bucket of ice water would have been preferred.” I had been out in the fields for hours and was sure I was covered in dirt.
“It’s iced. I usually have a fresh batch of beignets to go with my apologies, but you Texans know shit about that.”
“I’m offended for all of us Texans,” I said with a grin, “but you brought no donuts, either, and that’s unheard of in these parts. And there is nothing to apologize for, Jack. We made peace with it, right? I’m really not used to having visitors but will have to be more careful once the center opens, anyway. So, in a way, you did me a favor by reminding me of that.”
“Okay, just as long as you know I don’t make a habit of staring at beautiful women in their underwear through their bedroom windows.”
Flattered by his comment but unwilling to acknowledge it, I gave him a simple reply. “Understood.” I grabbed the coffee from his extended hand and took a sip.
He was dressed again in a solid t-shirt and jeans, and yet looking at him always felt like the first time. No woman in their right mind could deny Jack’s appeal. From his blond spiky halo to his sharp perfectly drawn brows, down to his sculpted cheekbones and strong jaw, he was truly a work of art. He’d had no shortage of female attention throughout his life, of that I was sure.
“Seth and I have been friends for years, and I wouldn’t want to ruin our good standing for being the peeping pervert outside your bedroom door.” He winked before he sipped his own coffee.