Untouched: a Cedar Cove Novella

by Melody Grace

  Emerson wordlessly holds out his hand to me, and I take it, and follow him deeper into the dark of the dunes.

  I would follow him anywhere.

  EMERSON

  I should stop.

  Before I pull her any deeper into the bleak mess of my life, before I lose it all. I should take her back to the party, drive her home—stay in brightly-lit places, around other people, with my hands to myself.

  But I can’t. I couldn’t stop kissing her even if the world was burning down around us, if the whole universe was torn apart at the seams.

  She’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me, and now I’ve had a taste of her sweetness, I can’t ever go back.

  I need to make her mine.

  I find a private part of the dunes, away from the party noise. It’s a sheltered spot facing the bay, with the sand still warm from the sun. Juliet pulls my hoodie from her shoulders and spreads it on the ground. She sits, delicately, tucking her legs under her and looking up at me with that wide-eyed stare. Innocent. Inviting. I drop onto the sand beside her, and reach for her without a word.

  She comes to me, willingly, her soft lips pressing eagerly to mine, her tongue sliding into my mouth. Jesus. I kiss her back, ravenous, pulling her close as her hands slide up around my shoulders, roaming across my back. I shudder under her touch, and yank her into my lap, lifting her so she’s straddling me, our bodies pressed tight together.

  Fuck, she feels incredible.

  Juliet lifts my face up towards hers. Her skin is flushed, she’s breathless, eyes bright. I move to capture her mouth again, but she turns my jaw away and kisses down the side of my neck, tiny butterfly touches that send shivers through my whole body. I feel my hard-on grow, rock-hard, pressing against her, every movement making me ache. I grip the soft flesh of her hips and bury my face against her neck, but it’s not enough. I’ll never have enough of her.

  I lick up the pale column of her throat and kiss her hard as I slide one hand up her body. She trembles as I brush my fingertips across her breast, soft at first, but my blood pounds hard and I can’t help myself. I squeeze, feeling the gorgeous ripe weight of her in my hand, and the tight nub of her nipple already hard and pressing through her clothes. Juliet moans against my mouth, arching to press her chest into me, so I pull her shirt open and yank her bra straps down, sliding my hands under the lace. I groan. Her skin is warm, so fucking smooth against my rough palms. I rub my thumbs against her nipples, teasing gently, then I squeeze.

  Juliet cries out, a noise of ecstasy in the night. I drop my head and kiss lower, tasting the sensitive flesh, replacing my hands and fingers with my mouth and tongue. I circle one nipple until she’s panting, then close my mouth around her and suck. Juliet yelps and grinds her hips into mine, a pressure so sweet I’m gasping for air.

  I want her naked, and open to me. I want to plunge inside of her, drown in her, give her pleasure she’s never dreamed.

  Juliet bucks her hips again, and it’s more than I can take. I let out a growl, scooping her tight, round ass in my hands. I roll us, pinning her beneath me, grabbing her wrists with one hand and pinning them above her head in the sand. Juliet gasps, but it’s excitement I see in her eyes now, wild and untamed.

  In a flash, I realize: she’s never felt this before.

  I’m the only one.

  I’m undone. I devour her; kissing, touching everywhere. She writhes under my hold, crying out, legs wrapped tight around me as our bodies slam together. I release her hands, and suddenly, she’s the one on top of me: yanking my T-shirt over my head and kissing across my chest, trailing her tongue over the contours of my muscles and sending sharp, sweet jolts of electricity through me with every touch. I lay back, dazed, and stare at the night’s sky, dusted with stars.

  I could die now. I could die, right here, and be happy.

  But not until I feel what it’s like, inside of her.

  I roll her underneath me again, kissing her deep, and shuddering at the feel of her body yielding to mine, the heat of her bare breasts against my chest. I slide my grip lower, settling one hand on her hip. Gently, I slide my thumb just a couple of inches under the waistband of her jeans.

  Juliet tenses in my arms.

  I pause, propping myself up on one elbow above her. She’s laying there, dark hair fanned out like a halo around her face; eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire. My dark angel, so full of mystery and pain.

  I stroke my thumb below her waistband again, teasing under the lacey top of her panties. Juliet catches her breath, but her eyes don’t leave mine. They burn into me, full of wordless questions and curiosity.

  I trail my hand across her stomach, watching it tremble under my touch. I slowly unbutton her jeans, then pause again, watching her.

  She doesn’t look away.

  I dip my head to hers, kissing softly as I slowly pull down the zip on her jeans. My hands are shaking, I realize, like some green kid who’s never been past second base. Me, Emerson Ray, who’s laid more girls than I can count; struck dumb and shaking just from the sheer anticipation sliding her jeans lower, and stroking gently across the lace of her panties.

  Juliet gasps against me.

  I stroke again, soft, circling gently between her thighs. She’s already damp, wet for me through the fabric, and I have to grit my teeth to hold back from ravaging her right now. I force myself back to keep up the slow touch, pressing gently, responding to every gasp and sigh she makes against my lips. Juliet’s body rises with every touch until she bucks against me, eager, and I finally slip my hands inside the fabric and stroke my fingers down to touch her, hot and wet and the center of my fucking universe.

  I stop breathing, and slide one finger inside.

  Juliet lets out a whimper, but it’s a distant echo to me. My heartbeat pounds so loudly, I can’t hear a thing. There’s nothing anymore, nothing except the feel of her, so tight and soft, and ready for me. Everything I’ve ever wanted. All I’ll ever need. Time stops as I slide another finger inside and she gasps, arching up again as I start to stroke my thumb, circling, building the pressure, moving with me against my hand as I stroke, and pulse, and cling on to the last distant thread of self-control until Juliet cries out and her body shudders against me.

  She falls, limp and surrendered in my arms.

  I collapse on the sand beside her with a gasp. Her eyes are closed, lips parted as she gasps for air.

  She’s mine now.

  It’s the truest thing I’ve ever known. Like gravity. Like endless swell of the ocean waves. She’s mine, and just the idea of another man touching her now—putting his hands where mine have been—is unthinkable.

  I reach and gently brush a lock of hair from her eyes. She smiles against my touch, not opening her eyes. “Wow,” she breathes softly, and I feel like I just scaled Mount Everest in a single stride.

  “I’m just getting started,” I promise, my voice coming out a low growl.

  She blinks her eyes open at me, questioning.

  I grin, tracing down her collar-bone. “When I’m done with you, you’re going to be begging me for more,” I tell her, circling her nipple with my fingertip. She shivers, and I feel another wave of lust. “You don’t even know what you’re body’s capable of yet. But I’m going to teach you. You’re going to come so many times, you won’t remember your own name.”

  Juliet blushes, and I have to laugh. She’s still so innocent, it’s like a drug to me. I get to be the one to show her, every inch of her body, all the hundreds of ways I’m going to make her come, screaming my name.

  A noise comes, from further down the beach. Yells, and the sound of an engine. Light comes cutting through the dark, a flashlight, coming our way.

  “Shit,” I curse, and move to cover Juliet’s body with my own. She scrambles to pull her shirt back on just as the stranger reaches us.

  “Who’s there?” A voice demands from the top of the dune. He beams the flashlight right at us, blinding us with the light.

  I relax
, shielding my eyes from the glare. “Hell, Larry, get that thing out of my face.”

  Larry lowers the beam so I can see him, our town deputy, swinging a confiscated six pack from one hand. “Emerson Ray,” he drawls, smug.“I should have known you’d be mixed up in this trouble. Who's that you've got with you?”

  “None of your business.” I growl, but Juliet steps out from behind me.

  “Hi,” she waves awkwardly. “I'm sorry, we were, uh...”

  There's silence as we all fill in the blanks of what we've been doing.

  “You over twenty-one?” Larry demands.

  I sigh. This is what happens when you give a failed football star some power: they want to throw it around any chance they get.

  “Relax. She wasn't drinking.” I answer for Juliet. “And you don’t have to get your panties in a twist. I'm taking her home now.”

  I check Juliet's got all her clothes back on, and then take her hand. I start up the dunes towards the parking lot, but Larry steps in my way.

  “I don't think so,” he stops me. “You’ve got her in enough trouble tonight. I’ll get her back to her parents.”

  Larry stares me down, waiting for me to bail—or for me to try and tell him no. For a split second, I think about ignoring him and his uniform, and marching Juliet right on past, but Larry reads my mind.

  “Just try.”He tells me with a smirk. “I’ve got a drunk cell at the station with your name all over it.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Juliet says quickly. She puts a soothing hand on my arm. I don’t even realize until I feel her touch that my muscles are tensed and ready for a fight. “I promise, my parent’s will be fine.” she says again. “What can they do? I bet they never even noticed I was gone.”

  I force a breath out and stand down, even though everything in me is screaming not to leave her alone. “Text me when you’re back,” I tell her, taking her phone and programming my number in.

  She sends me a final shy smile, and then follows Larry back to his patrol car, but I don't head home like I was told. I get in my truck and drive behind them, following Larry’s car all the way back to her house.

  After everything we shared tonight, I have to see her home. I need to know she’s safe.

  I leave the engine on idle down the driveway, watching as Larry takes her up to the front porch. The lights are already on, and when the door opens, her mom rushes out, looks panicked. She hugs Juliet tightly and drags her inside, but her dad stands, kidding around with Larry for a moment, a drink in his hand. He offers one to the deputy, but Larry shakes his head, and walks back to his car.

  I wait until the lights go out inside, and my phone buzzes with a new text.

  Safe and sound xx

  I exhale. Sweet dreams, I write back, and finally turn the truck around and head for home.

  Back at my place, there's nobody waiting up. The house is dark when I let myself in, and I'm halfway to the closet I'm using as a room when I see mom’s door is open, and the bedroom is empty inside.

  She didn't come home again.

  I sink to the floor in the hallway and lean my head back against the wall, staring at the dark room and the unmade bed, and everything it represents.

  I've slumped here before: waiting for her to stumble home. I don’t know how many nights I’ve spent in this exact same spot, cursing her, and god, and anyone else I can think of for all her fucked up failures. It burns at me through the long night, all the guilt and failure. A heavy fire that never seems to die away.

  But this time, it doesn't hurt so much.

  I can still feel Juliet's soft touch, still taste the sweetness of her kisses. My salvation. Because now I know there's her goodness in the world, the rest of it doesn't seem like such a bleak wasteland.

  You're a good man

  Me? A good man? I could laugh, if I didn't hope so desperately for it to be true. My whole life, nobody’s seen anything in me but a waste of space, a bad influence. That Emerson Ray, they say. He didn't even know his daddy, but the man was no good. And you know about his momma. That boy will sure enough wind up just like them one day.

  You hear something long enough, you start believing its true, until soon enough I figured, why not prove them right? It was in my blood, after all. Poisoned. Worthless. If they thought I was past saving, then I wouldn’t waste my breath trying any other way. I would fight and screw and do what I damned hell pleased.

  Except... It wasn't what I wanted, I see that now.

  All I wanted was her. Someone to look at me, and see past my bullshit. Someone to think I was worth a damn.

  Juliet.

  I catch my breath, just thinking about her. The way her body leapt to my touch, the innocence to her passion. I've fucked a hundred girls, but I've never watched them like that: stared into their faces as the feeling flooded over them, pushed them higher just to know the look in their eyes as they fell. It was something precious, sharing that moment with her. Holy.

  I hear a creak in the hallway and look up. Brit has come out of her room, yawning, in PJs and an oversized shirt.

  “What are you doing?” She frowns at me.

  “Just thinking.”

  “Don't break anything,” she quips, stepping over my outstretched legs to go through into the kitchen.

  I pull myself up and follow her. She opens the cabinet, and pulls down a box of Oreos. Gets milk from the fridge. I fetch two glasses, and we sit around the table in the light from the porch outside.

  “Can't sleep?” I ask.

  She shrugs.

  “Mom leave a note?”

  She shakes her head.

  We dunk cookies in silence for a moment.

  “So how's the girl?” Brit asks.

  I play dumb. “Which girl? You know I’ve got them in every state, baby.”

  She snorts, and tosses a chunk of cookie at me. I intercept, and shove it in my mouth. “The one from here,” she says.“Julia.”

  “Juliet.” I correct her.

  Brit smirks. “See, I knew you liked her.”

  “I didn't say that.”

  “Juliet.” She mimics me, drawing out the word. “Please, you don’t have to say a thing, it's written all over your face. Emerson's in looooove,” she adds, singsong.

  I glare at her. “How old are you again?”

  Brit laughs. “So when do I get to meet her? With her clothes on, I mean.”

  Now it’s my turn to shrug. “I don't know...” I say slowly. “The party got busted, Larry took her home.”

  Brit pauses. “She's got the kind of parents who care?”

  “About this?” I remember her mom’s face, seeing Juliet escorted up the front steps by a deputy sheriff. “Yeah.”

  “Must be nice.” Brit says, and the wistful sound in her voice hurts me like hell. I give her the last cookie.

  “It won't always be like this, you know.” I tell her softly.

  “Yeah,” Brit sighs. “Maybe one of these days, she won't come home.”

  The truth sits between us, the elephant in the room. We’ve both thought it, how could we not? Equal parts guilt and hope, shame and anger.

  Because it would be so much easier if, one of these nights, mom didn’t come home. If she could just stay gone. Then we wouldn't go through this cycle over and over again: Brit waiting for her to shape up and be a real mom, and me hoping for... Hell, I don’t even hope anymore, I lost that a long time ago. But I'm left to clean up the mess, every time, and when I think about a version of my life without that – without waiting for the call to come get her, wondering what she’s gone and done this time...

  What would that life be like? Safe. Normal. Easy.

  The kind of life worth sharing.

  “You should get back to bed,” I tell her, getting up to rinse our glasses.

  “You too.”Brit replies. “You need your beauty sleep. You look like hell.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Tough love, big bro.” Brit circles the tale and wraps her arms around me in a q
uick hug. “Be careful, OK?” she whispers, face pressed against my chest.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This girl… she’s a summer girl, right?” Brit tilts her face up to me, eyes sad. “That means she’s leaving. They all leave, in the end.”

  I break the hug, and shove her gently towards the hall. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” But my words catch in my throat, and the question lingers, long after she trails back to bed, and I’m alone in the dark kitchen.

  Just one week, and already, I’m in so deep with Juliet, I can’t see the surface. But what happens next week, and the week after?

  What happens when summer’s over?

  JULIET

  My mom loses it. I've never seen her so mad.

  Dad smirks his way through it the way he always does, like I'm just a joke to him, but the minute the deputy leaves, mom flips out. She yells and screams about responsibility, and strangers, and wandering off in the dark alone.

  I stand, arms folded, and take it. Nothing they say can ruin the warmth I have blazing from my chest, a fierce glow of joy radiating out through my entire body, surrounding me with safety and hope.

  Emerson.

  Emerson.

  Only him.

  "Do you know what could have happened to you?" Mom is still yelling. She's wrapped in a threadbare bathrobe, pale and drawn in the 3AM kitchen light. For the first time, I feel a pang of guilt that I left her to worry alone.

  “I was fine," I reassure her. "Emerson would never let anything happen to me."

  I hurry upstairs to bed before they can quiz me anymore. When I come down the next morning – braced for more lectures and yelling and lord know what other parental disappointment – they say nothing. I eat breakfast in silence, suspicious, listening to mom chatter about a farmer’s market in the next town, and the family bike ride we can all take along the coast. I wait for the catch, but none comes.

  “What do you think?” Mom asks me with a nervous smile. I look from her to dad, who is sitting there, totally disinterested, reading the newspaper. They've clearly made some deal, or, more likely, mom has decided that this is all teenage rebellion, and that making a big deal over it will only drive me faster into Emerson's arms.