Untouched: a Cedar Cove Novella (4 page)

I stare at Juliet as
her words sink in.

She’s standing right
in front of me, those beautiful lips parted with anger, her fists
clenched by her sides. Even if she hadn’t just told me all of that,
I would know the truth from the look of dark bitterness in her eyes.

She knows. She’s been
here. She’s damaged, just like me.

I let out a long
breath, and feel the tension slip from my body. In a flash, I
realize. I don’t have to pretend anymore.

“You know.” I say
quietly.

She nods, sympathy
softening her face. “Your mom’s in withdrawal,” she answers
softly. “She’s coming down. She’s shaking, and emotional, she’s
trying to fight it, but the craving’s too strong. What is it, meth?
Painkillers?”

I look away, but she
keeps talking.

“She’ll get through
the worst of it soon,” Juliet adds, taking a step towards me. “But
you’ve got to be kinder. She needs your support.”

“She had it.” My
voice comes out twisted. “The last time, and the time before that.
You think I haven’t seen this before?” I ask her, hopeless. “You
think I haven’t tried to be gentle, and help her. But it’s always
the same. There’ll always be another guy coming around with her
fix, and she’ll always go back to it. Nothing I do will make a damn
bit of difference.”

I sag back against the
porch. I hate that she’s seen this, seen the worst of my life
huddled and weeping in a bathroom stall, but part of me is relieved
too.

She’s still here,
after all. She could have left us, any time she wanted, but instead,
she came with me.

She stayed.

“Oh, Emerson…”
Juliet breathes my name like a prayer. I feel a movement, and then
she’s standing beside me, leaning against the porch railing looking
out at the darkening woods.

I close my eyes a
minute, wishing that this could all go away. That we could be
anywhere but here: on this run-down porch, with my addict of a mom
passed out in the next room.

Then she shifts, and
her body presses against my side.

It’s just a moment.
Just a touch. But that brief heat of her skin against mine sends the
anger melting away, replacing it with a small wave of calm. A light,
in all my endless dark.

“How long?” Juliet
asks softly.

“Years, off and on.”
I shrug, picking at the label of my beer. The words catch in my
throat. It feels weird to be telling her this, when I’ve spent so
long trying—and failing—to hide it from the world. But I know
somehow, she won’t judge me like everyone else in this town. She
won’t whisper under her breath, and turn away. It gives me the
strength to keep talking, to try and explain.

“I don’t even know
when it started, I just know when she couldn’t handle it anymore. I
was fifteen,” I add. “There was a douche of a boyfriend, and then
he was gone, and she fell to pieces.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It’s just a simple
phrase, people use it all the time. I’m sorry I ran into you, bro.
I’m sorry I was late. But when I glance over at Juliet’s face, so
pale and determined there beside me, I can tell, she means it more
than anything.

She doesn’t even know
me, and still, she wants better for me.

It takes my breath
away.

“What about you?” I
ask, awkward. “Your dad…”

Juliet shakes her head,
a sharp motion. “It’s nothing like this. Most of the time, he can
keep it together. Nobody notices,” she adds in a small voice. “Mom
pretends… she just keeps pretending. And the rest of them…” She
exhales. “They don’t see. It’s his thing, you know: the life of
the party, always having a good time. If he was passed out with a
cheap quart of vodka, maybe they’d see, but it’s like, because
he’s getting wasted on expensive wines at dinner, it doesn’t even
matter. Like I shouldn’t care.”

“That’s bullshit.”
I say fiercely. “It matters.”

Juliet looks down, her
pale face shadowed with years of sadness and resignation. I feel
anger surge through me, a primal force. Right now, I want nothing
more than to hunt her father down and beat him bloody for putting her
through this, for taking her precious beauty and filling it with
pain.

“I used to wonder, if
it was my fault.” She whispers, glancing up to meet my eyes. “If
I tried harder to make them see he had a problem. If he loved me
enough to quit—“

I reach for her,
grabbing her by both arms. “You know it’s not your fault?” I
demand urgently. “You can’t save him, not if he won’t save
himself.”

Her eyes widen, and
suddenly I realize I’m holding her close, her body just inches away
from mine, my hands digging into her soft skin.

I freeze.

Juliet blinks at me,
not moving. Her soft lips are parted, and everything in my body
screams at me to kiss her: to capture that sweet mouth with mine,
pull her closer, ravage her until that pain is gone from her
expression and she can’t even remember her own name.

I fight it with
everything I have. This is all wrong, I know. To want her, now, after
everything we’ve just shared. Knowing her story, understanding what
she’s been through. If she knew I was imagining those lips on mine,
those eyes half-shut as I trail kisses down her soft throat… She’d
think I was an animal, probably turn and walk away from me for good.

I should be used to it
by now—people leaving. Hell, I’ve done my share of goodbyes. But
the thought of Juliet being the one to turn away… I don’t know
why, but just the idea sends a bolt of pain through me, sharp enough
to cut through my lust.

I force myself to let
go of her, and take a half-step back.

Something flashes
across Juliet’s face, almost like disappointment. Then her gaze
drops to my lips, lingering there.

Blood rushes through me
with fierce heat.

She wants me.

My self-control is
obliterated. I reach for her again, and this time, I don’t stop. I
grab her around her waist and shove her up against the railing, my
lips finally crashing down on hers in the searing kiss I’ve wanted
ever since the first moment I saw her face.

She’s heaven.

Juliet melts into my
arms, arching up into me as if she was made to fit against my body.
She tastes of candy, and sweet summer strawberries; her hands
reaching up to clasp around my neck as she kisses me back with a
wild, naïve abandon.

Jesus.

I plunge my tongue
deeper in her mouth, tangling my fingers in the silk of her dark
hair. Blood pounds through me, blotting out the world. Everything
fades away under the wild chemistry blazing between our bodies.
There’s nothing but her, and me, and the softness of her curves
pressed up against me, sending dark, wild thoughts tearing through my
mind.

She lets out a breathy
moan, and I feel myself harden. Wanting her. Needing her. I grab her
thighs and lift, pressing back against the porch as she wraps her
legs around my waist. I reclaim her mouth, kissing her with
everything I have as my hands rove across her body, stroking and
squeezing at the miles of soft skin and her peach of an ass, round
and perfect through her cut-off shorts.

Juliet presses her
breasts against my chest, and I buck against her, the friction
between us driving me crazy. She’s still kissing me like her life
depends on it, but I pull back, holding her in place as I catch my
breath.

I need to see her.

God, she’s beautiful.
Her eyes are half-closed, dazed by desire. Her skin is flushed pink,
and she’s gasping for breath, reaching for me, pulling me back down
to kiss her.

With a groan, I
surrender.

It’s like nothing
I’ve felt before, the desire breaking over us. A tidal wave, a
force of nature. Every other girl, all those drunken nights, they
melt away under her eager touch and the sweet taste of her mouth,
taking me far away from everything. Wiping the slate clean.

This is what I was
made for,
I think through the haze.
This girl. These lips.
This body.

Only her.

Desire comes over me
like a hurricane, and now I can't hold it back. My hands are
everywhere. Wanting to feel all of her. Lose myself in the taste of
her sweetness, and the soft silk of her skin; the way her body
shudders under my hands, and the sound of her gasps, ragged in her
throat as I bury my face in the nape of her neck and run my tongue
over the sensitive hollow of her throat.

I yank down the strap
of her tank top and run kisses over the pale skin of her shoulder.
Juliet makes a noise, part whimper, part moan.

Sweet Jesus.

I thrust closer, her
body so soft and willing against me. Only the thin layer of our
clothes is separating us. I feel the heat, blazing through her
clothes, and all I can think about is tearing them off her and
burying myself inside her, right here on the porch under the sunset
sky. Plunging into her over and over until she's wordless and crying
out my name—

"Emerson?"

A door slams, and then
I hear a call, but it's like I'm underwater. I don't stop, too far
gone in the glory of Juliet's body. I kiss her mouth again, desperate
to stay here, safe in her arms, where nothing is bad, or dark, or
broken, and the real world doesn't exist.

"Is anyone home?
Oh, shit."

Juliet breaks away from
me with a yelp as I finally register the voice. A familiar voice. My
sister.

"Brit!" I
roar, not turning. Juliet is scrambling to pull her shirt back up,
cheeks burning red.

"Sorry!" I
can hear the laughter in Brit’s voice. "I didn't know you had,
uh, company."

I'm still panting,
blood roaring in my ears, but I manage to get my hard-on under
control and turn. My sister is standing with her hands on her hips:
five foot and fifteen years of trouble.

I sigh. "Brit,
this is Juliet." I reach for her, to reassure her it’s ok, but
she ducks away from me across the porch, not meeting my eyes.

"Hi." Brit
narrows her eyes as she takes in Juliet. I can tell what she's
thinking, I've never brought a girl home before. We don't have people
over. Ever. It's an unspoken rule of the house, a way for us to
contain the damage. Contain mom.

Juliet doesn't reply,
she just mumbles, staring at the ground. "I, um, should go."
She finally blurts, then takes off for the door.

She leaves without
looking at me, without saying goodbye. I feel a bitter wave of
disappointment crash through me.

I fucked it up.

Just like I always do.
I drove her away. I had her in my arms, and I ravaged her like some
fucking animal. Oh god, she must hate me now.

"Emerson." I
look back. Brit is watching me with a concerned look on her face.
"Em, are you ok? I'm sorry I barged in," she adds quickly.
"But the door was open, and--"

"It's not your
fault." I tell her gruffly. The words catching my throat, and I
stride inside, slamming the door behind me.

The fault is mine. It's
always mine.

He kissed me.

No, Emerson didn't just
kiss me, he consumed me. He devoured me. And I couldn't get enough.

I lay in bed all night
awake, replaying the kiss over and over in my mind. The feel of his
body, rock hard against me, the relentless sweet plunge of his tongue
in my mouth. I shiver, heat pooling through my body, my skin
prickling with awareness just at the thought of him.

It's too hot in here, I
can't breathe.

That's because he
took your breath away.

I leap up, crossing to
the window and open it wide. The night air is cool and refreshing,
but it's still not enough to soothe me. My whole body feels swollen,
my breasts aching, my thighs tight. I strip off my oversize T and
slip back between the sheets, naked under the cool cotton. I feel it
slide against my body, cool where his hands had been so hot, and my
stomach trembles all over again.

God, but that man can
kiss.

I lay back, eyes shut,
remembering the look in his eyes when he reached for me, the dark
intensity that turned me molten inside. Even now, I feel a shock of
electricity spark down my body, imagining him right here under the
covers next to me. His touch. His lips. His hands...

And then I remember the
expression on his sister’s face when she found us together, and the
rush of shame is so bad I have to roll under my pillows and silently
scream with embarrassment.

What the hell was I
thinking? I'd known the guy all of eight hours, and I was
this
close to pulling him down on the hard wooden porch and giving him my
virginity right then and there, to hell with the consequences. What
must he think of me? Nothing good, that’s for sure: he didn’t
even try to come after me, or get my number, or even ask to see me
again.

And why would he?
A small voice of doubt whispers. I was crazy. I was possessed. I was
acting like a stranger, like some girl I didn't even know.

My thoughts whirl
around my head all night, but as I finally drift into sleep, I
realize the strangest part of the whole thing, why despite all my
insecurities and disbelief, I feel a warm glow bathe my whole body.
Because the truth is I didn't feel like a different person. When I
was holding Emerson, kissing him, aching for his touch... I've never
felt more like myself. Juliet. The girl inside of me.

I was free.

When I wake the next
morning, Emerson’s kisses feel like a dream. A dangerous, tempting
dream. I push the lingering memories away and leap out of bed,
determined that despite my moment of total madness last night, I’m
not going to fall to pieces over this guy—no matter how drop-dead
gorgeous he is, or how his kisses undo me. I’m not going to spend
the rest of my summer obsessing over him like some lovesick puppy,
riding by his house, or hanging out in town panting for just one
glance.