by Tia Louise
When We Touch
Tia Louise
Contents
When We Touch
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
More Tia Louise
The Prince & The Player
Extra! Extra!
Acknowledgments
About the Author
When We Touch
By Tia Louise
Ember Rose was spicy-sweet seduction.
My biggest temptation.
My biggest regret.
* * *
I thought she’d always be waiting for me.
I was wrong.
* * *
Now I’m back in Oceanside searching for peace, hoping to escape what my life has become.
She isn’t supposed to be here…
* * *
Dark hair blowing in the ocean breeze,
Luscious curves barely hidden by thin cotton.
I didn’t come back for her.
* * *
But when we touch, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine…
* * *
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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When We Touch
Copyright © TLM Productions LLC, 2017
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Printed in the United States of America.
Cover design by Shanoff Formats
Photography by Sara Eirew Photographer
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
Created with Vellum
To Mr. TL, always,
* * *
And to my readers, a new book boyfriend to love…
Prologue
Ember
Where it begins…
Jackson Cane tastes like red-hot cinnamon, salt water, and sin.
When he concentrates, his long fingers twist in the back of his dark hair, right at the base of his neck, and he tugs.
Tugs…
Tugs…
I like to weave my fingers between his and pull.
Then ocean-blue eyes blink up to mine, sending electricity humming in my veins. He smiles. I smile, and it isn’t long before our lips touch. I straddle his lap as I open my mouth, and his delicious tongue finds mine, heating every part of my body.
Our kisses are languid and deep, chasing and tasting.
We sizzle like fireworks on a hot summer night.
Eventually, with a heavy sigh, I pull away, but hours later my mouth is still burning. I taste him everywhere I go.
Lying in my bed in the dark room, my heart aches, heavy and painful in my chest. Every breath is a burden. I blink slowly at the ceiling and slide my tongue against the backs of my teeth thinking about hot cinnamon, tangy salt, caramel and sugar, sunshine, and the best summer of my life.
* * *
The instant I hear it, I’m on my feet, tiptoeing to my open window. The low growl of an engine tells me he’s there in the darkness, out on the street in the shadows just past the streetlight.
The late summer humidity hangs heavy in the air. Cicadas scree from the limbs of the mighty oak tree beside the house. Their damp wings make them too heavy to fly, and the sadness in my chest is replaced with breathless anticipation.
I’m panting. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, and I’m desperate to hold onto it. Somehow I know I’ll never feel this way for anyone ever again.
Quiet as a mouse I scamper to my door and listen. The only sound is the hum of Momma’s oscillating fan pushing the warm air around her room. I can’t hear her breathing. I can’t hear anything… except the noise of Jackson’s engine on the street below, waiting.
Red-hot cinnamon.
Salt water.
Sin.
Pressure tingles around the edges of my skull, and a bead of sweat tickles down the side of my neck, dropping past my shoulder, slipping between my breasts.
I’m at the window slowly lifting the glass, and I don’t care if she hears me. I dive through the space, out onto the cedar shake roof in my bare feet. I’ll get a splinter if I’m not careful…
So many reasons to be careful…
I ignore them all.
I’m going to him like a siren’s call in the ocean, like the mermaid story in reverse. I’m the hypnotized sailor. He’s the promise of so many wicked pleasures.
Reaching for the tree limb, I swing my body across the narrow gap two stories high, gliding down the trunk as the skirt of my dress rises to my hips. My bike sits where I left it at the side of the house, and I carefully pull it away, holding it as I tiptoe down the gravel driveway to the street.
I can’t take a chance on anyone seeing us together and telling my mother. Instead, I dash across the street between the thick beams of his headlights. He flickers them to let me know he sees me, and I plunge into the dark woods, pedaling fast.
Tires crunch on gravel, and I shoot down the pine needle path leading away from this place, through the tall, skinny trees, all the way out to the barren jetty of sand stretching under the moonlit sky filled with stars, surrounded by the clear blue waters of the ocean.
It’s our place.
The place where we’re the only two people on Earth.
In the summertime, the visitors to our sleepy little town use it to spend the day sunbathing and playing on the wide stretch of undeveloped sand. Now, on the edge of fall, with all the children back in school and Jackson leaving for college tomorrow, we have it to ourselves.
His engine roars on the road above, and I stand in the pedals to push harder, fueled by the burning desire twisting in my lower pelvis. I want to be with him now. I don’t want to waste a moment.
I go even faster as the trail slopes downhill. A narrow wooden bridge thump… thump… thumps with the pressure of my tires distressing the aging slats.
The instant the trees part, I toss my bike aside and run out of the darkness onto the glowing white sand. The sizzle of waves crashing on the shore fills the night, and the black ripples are tipped with silver light.
Jackson stands in his canvas shorts, his hands in his pockets, and a thin white tee rippling across his back in the slight breeze.
I’m breathing hard when I finally reach him, and he turns. White teeth in a full-moon night, deep dimples in both cheeks, he smiles down at me, and I feel so small. A lock of too-long dark hair falls over his blue eyes, and my breath catches. He’s so beautiful.
I swallow the knot in my throat as I gaze at him. What star crossed what planet in what solar system and said I could have him, even if it’s only for a little while?
“You made good time tonight.” His voice vibrates the warm air between us.
I force a laugh, moving to him until my hands are around his waist. My forehead rests on his chest, and I inhale deeply. He’s leather and soap and a deeper, spicier scent that’s pure Jackson Cane.
He feels so good in my arms.
His mouth presses against my head, and I lift my chin, reaching for his face. He leans down and claims my mouth, warm lips pushing mine open. I kiss him eagerly, curling my tongue with his, threading my fingers into the soft, dark hair falling around his cheeks, tugging.
An aching moan rises in my chest as he lifts me off my feet. Chasing his kisses, my mouth burns with cinnamon, my core tingles with need. He carries me to our place, a little shelter near the water’s edge where an enormous log is slowly turning to driftwood. We lower to the sand, me on my back, him on his knees looking down at me.
My dark hair is all around us, my skirt is up around my waist. My panties are far away on my bedroom floor. A soft hiss comes from his lips, and he slides a finger down my center. My eyes flutter shut.
“Jackson…” I whisper. I love you I love you I love you…
He leans down to taste me, his tongue lightly tracing the line between my thighs, and my back arches off the soft sand. My body takes flight on the motion of his mouth, kissing me so deeply, tracing a pattern over my most sensitive parts.
The first time he did this to me, I didn’t understand. I’d been embarrassed by how fast my body responded, the way I shook, how wet it was between my legs when the shudders subsided.
Then I was afraid of how I tasted. I was afraid it was dirty and wrong like my momma would say. Sin…
Then he kissed me, and my mouth filled with a delicate, clean ocean flavor, like the air after a storm. It was our first time, and when he pushed inside me, my mind came apart. My soul shifted, and I was forever changed.
I was forever his.
The flutters begin in the arches of my feet, and he kisses his way up my stomach.
“Jackson… Jackson…” I can’t stop chanting his name as I thread my fingers in his soft hair.
At last his mouth covers mine. At last we’re one.
“Ember…” His mouth breaks away with a groan, and I lean up to run my tongue along the ridges of his neck. Salt water…
I lick his Adam’s apple up to his square jaw.
Rough stubble scratches my tongue.
My legs are around his waist and we’re working together, chasing that glorious release. He stretches me and fills me, massages me so deeply, I feel it the moment I start to break apart.
“Oh!” My fingers tighten on his back as every muscle in my body clenches…
Tighter…
Tighter…
Then Yes!
Glitter gun showers of pleasure flooding my insides.
“Yes,” he groans, and I feel him finish deep inside of me.
Our bodies unite, but at the same time we’re flying apart as waves of ecstasy fill our veins. It’s magical like the ocean, silvery water tipped in moonlight.
We kiss softly now, rich and gentle, over and over. His tongue touches my upper lip, and he pulls the bottom one between his teeth. Red-hot cinnamon…
We’re breathing hard, and he slides a hand under my ass, turning us without ever losing contact, so I’m sitting in a straddle across his lap.
My dress is around my waist, and moonlight touches the tips of my breasts. We hold each other, skin against skin.
A hot tear spills down my cheek.
I’m not full-on crying. I’ll save the ugly tears for tomorrow when he’s gone. Instead, I find his blue eyes.
Dark brows quirk together, and he kisses my nose. “You’re crying?”
My voice cracks with a whisper. “Aren’t you sad?”
“I’m only going to college, Em. I’m not going to war.”
“But we won’t see each other for months.”
I don’t say what’s truly scaring me. I don’t voice the fear that I, a mere high schooler, couldn’t possibly hold onto him.
He’s traveling far away to where the girls are more mature, more experienced, more sophisticated.
“You’re right,” he nods. “It’s going to suck. Especially when I want to kiss you.”
He pulls me flush against his chest and groans deeply. Strong arms circle my shoulders, and I cling to him.
“But it’s not something to cry about,” he argues. “You’re my girl, Em. That’s never going to change.”
My eyes squeeze shut, and I inhale his scent, doing my best to hold it in my memory, trying to absorb every part of him.
There’s no way in hell I could even begin to argue. I am his, and he’s… my everything. Jackson Cane is every first I’ve ever had. My first real kiss, my first real boyfriend, the first time I had sex… made love…
“Hey.” He pulls back, blue eyes full of concern. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Blinking quickly, I try to find my bearings. “What?” I don’t know why he looks so worried.
“You are my girl, right?”
My chin jerks forward, and I have to cover my mouth. “You have to ask?”
Warm hands cup my cheeks, and he trails his thumbs lightly along my cheekbones. “So beautiful,” he murmurs. “My Ember Rose.”
His eyes move around my face, along my hair, down the side of my jaw like a caress.
“I’ll never forget this.” I’m ashamed at how desperate my voice sounds. “I mean… I just…” I’m such a baby.
He blinks a few times, and a smile curls his lips. With a nod, he pulls me against his chest, strong arms surrounding me. We stay that way a long time, listening to the crashing of the surf, the beat of our hearts. The seagulls cry, and the moon climbs higher. It’s all so perfect, but it’s all at an end.
Finally, with a sigh, he lifts me, helping me stand. We hold hands as he takes me into the gentle waves to clean up. I slowly restore my dress.
I feel so stupid. College girls don’t need to be cared for like babies. They don’t whine and cry about being left behind. They blow kisses and wink over their sunglasses. They sway their hips and turn the tables on saying goodbye.
My best friend Tabby is already one of those girls, and she’s my age.
I’ll never be one of those girls.
“Don’t cry, Ember Rose,” he says in a low whisper. “I never want to see you cry.”
I hold him a while longer, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. His hands slide up and down my back in a soothing motion.
After a while, they slide down my forearms to lace with my fingers. He steps back and leads me the way we came, stopping at the edge of the woods where I left my bike.
“Get on home before your momma wakes up.”
That sexy smile curls his lips. He shoves his hair behind his ears, and I step forward again, clutching the front of his shirt before I press my lips one last time to his.
Red-hot cinnamon.
Sparkling blue sin.
Salt rocks breaking my heart.
One
Jack
Ten years and eleven months later…
“Last one in has to ride home naked!” Tiffany hurls her silky red dress over her head and runs through the trees headed for the lake.
The wheels on my black Audi R8 have barely stopped moving. I haven’t even killed the engine. An empty wine bottle clatters against an empty tequila bottle rolling around on the floorboards, and I briefly think I should toss them in a nearby trashcan.
Propping my elbow on the steering wheel, I scrub the back of my neck with my fingers. My hair is so short now, it’s the best I can do.
I haven’t had a drink in almost an hour. I’d finished a bottle of scotch in my office, standing in front of my floor to ceiling glass windows looking down on the city, disbelief vibrating in my chest.
My career…
My reputation…
It’s over.
All of it.
/> File after file, telling me my win, my multi-million dollar defense… all of it is based on lies.
“Fuck!” I shout, slamming my palm against the wheel.
The buzzing in my head is gone along with the numbness in my chest, and all the shock and pain and pure, unadulterated outrage rush back like a wall of water before a hurricane.
A hurricane that will send everything I’ve worked for these last ten years crashing down around me.
Pulling the handle on the door, I push it open and step out into the darkness. The ground is covered in moldering leaves, and it smells like faintly mildewed canvas, damp lichens, and dirt.
“Jackson! What are you doing?” Tiffany shrieks between splashes out in the black water of the lake.
Exactly. “What the fuck am I doing here?”
My chest is tight, and each inhale is like claws ripping my lungs from the inside.
It took an hour to drive from my Eighth Avenue high-rise corner office building to this lonely, two-lane highway leading to the lake. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t know what the fuck Tiffany was talking about or why she was even in my car. She followed me down the elevator, into the parking garage, laughing and pouring another shot of tequila on the way.
I’ve got the fucking receptionist with me.
