by J. L. Beck
As soon as I see the red hair in the passenger seat, I feel the tension in my shoulders release. I walk down the stone steps and Vance pulls up right in front of me. He barely as the car parked and I'm opening the passenger door. I extend my hand out to Emerson. Her big beautiful eyes find mine, a million emotions swimming in those blue orbs.
“Come on, let’s go home,” I say softly though the tension rippling through my body doesn't match my tone of voice. Emerson takes my hand and I help her out of the car, my attention all on her. The wind blows and her sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into my nose.
“Nice to see you too, asshole,” Vance grumbles from the driver’s seat.
Ignoring his asshole remark, I answer, “Thanks for bringing her, I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
He nods and grins knowingly at me right before I shut the car door. With Emerson beside me, I feel like I can breathe again. I tighten my grip on her hand, not wanting her to pull away as we walk to the truck. Only when we reach the truck, do I release her, but only so I can get into the driver's seat.
Starting the truck, I pull out of the parking lot, trying to think of how to start this conversation. It's the ballooning elephant in the room and if I want things to go back to normal, then we need to talk.
Glancing over at her, I can see she's focused her attention on her nails, as if they're more fascinating than me.
Fuck. I wanted to wait until we got home to do this, but with every second that passes with her in this can my resolve diminishes. I need to talk now, I need to explain.
“I’m sorry about earlier, it really wasn’t what it looked like—”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Emerson cuts me off, her tone light. “We’ve been over this. You don’t owe me anything. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s none of my business. I don’t care who you kiss Clark.”
White knuckling the steering wheel I remind myself of the fact that she is doing this to protect herself. She’s trying to cut me out, trying to make it seem like there is nothing between us, but even a blind person could see the chemistry, the compassion.
I don’t care who you kiss…
Her words anger me, enrages me. Gritting my teeth, I shut my mouth taking the rest of the ride home to calm down, thinking about what I’m going to say when we get to the house.
By the time we pull up to the condo, I still haven’t come up with anything good. I park in front and cut off the engine. Emerson grabs her backpack and gets out before I can come around and help her out.
Frowning, I follow her to the door and unlock it. She pushes the door open and heads straight for her room.
“I’m going to bed,” she said without even looking at me.
“No, you’re not,” I snap, shutting the door behind me with a little more force than needed. She stops walking and spins around to look at me, shock and terror written all over her delicate features. I hate how she's looking at me, like I would ever hurt her.
“Don’t look at me like that, I just want to talk.” I know I’m pushing her boundaries, pushing her into unknown waters. Maybe I should back off, or maybe I need to push her a little, see how far she's willing to go.
“Why did you run off earlier?”
She starts to back up at my question, her head shaking back and forth. “It’s nothing. I don’t care who you kiss…. If… I mean if that’s what you're referring to.” Her stutter is adorable. I stalk toward her, which causes her to take a step back, and another and another until she's against the wall with nowhere to run.
My eyes drop down to her heart-shaped face, her eyes, fear resides there, but so does another emotion. It trickles in slowly, dissolving the fear, drop by drop. Want? Arousal? Maybe a combination of both, I have no clue. All I know is I would rather see that then fear, or sadness.
“I didn’t kiss her, Em. She kissed me when I was distracted… distracted by you. I didn’t want to kiss her…I don’t want her.” Long lashes the color of autumn leaves fan against her cheeks as she blinks up at me.
Lifting a finger, I trail it against the creamy flesh of her cheek, so warm, so fucking perfect. I never saw her coming, never saw her ruling my mind, my body, my heart, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her go. She needs me as badly as I need her.
“I saw the sadness flicker in your eyes. Why were you sad, Emerson?” My voice is low, deep and gravelly. I can feel my cock pressing against my zipper begging to be unleashed, but when it comes to Emerson, he doesn’t rule me. No, it’s the muscle beating out of control in my chest that does.
She owns your heart.
My eyes roam down her face stopping on her chest. It heaves up and down, but not so fast that I worry she’s afraid. No fear isn't what she's experiencing right now.
Caging her with my body, leaning in, so close I can almost feel her lips against mine, I whisper, “Why?”
“I…” Her throat bobs as she swallows, her eyes flickering to my lips. Is she going to kiss me again? Fuck, I hope so, because I want to kiss her so bad it’s taking everything inside me not to right now. My muscles tighten, quivering with want, with need that I refuse to give into. Relax… calm yourself, for her.
“You don’t want me kissing anyone else, do you?” My nose brushes against hers and the sharp intake of breath doesn’t miss its mark. It ripples through me like an earthquake.
“I… I didn't like her kissing you. She’s vile and mean…you are too good for someone like that…” Her voice trails off, but she’s not fooling me with that line of bullshit. Holly is all those things and more, but I don't for one second believe that's why she doesn't want me kissing her. No, her reasoning is so much deeper.
“Tell me the real reason you didn’t like her kissing me.” She wants me and that confession, that admission though not complete outright makes it feel like a firework is going off in my chest.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I want, because it can never happen, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. A dream is all it will ever be.”
“Why? Why do you think that?”
“I’m broken, Clark,” she whispers softly. She lifts her hand, placing it against my chest, right over my thundering heartbeat. “You can’t fix me, there is no cure. I'll be like this forever.”
Anger whips through me, she thinks so down about herself, that no one will want her because of her past, but she’s wrong, so very wrong, because I want her… I want her bad.
“You’re not broken Em, you might be hurt, torn, bleeding, shattered into a million pieces but you’re not broken, because you can heal… you will heal and then you will be whole again. They might have plucked your petals, but you’ll bloom again, and when you do, you’ll be the biggest, brightest, most pretty flower ever.”
“I don’t know how to be whole again.” I’ll be forever rotten.
“We’ll figure it out, together. Always together Em, you and me.” My hand trembles and I want to touch her, to trace the lines of her face, to feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips.
“Why, why…didn’t you want to kiss her?” Emerson asks shyly.
“Because there is someone better, prettier, that I want to kiss.” Only then as I’m speaking does she look up at me. Her gaze locks on mine and this weird feeling washes over me. Like I can see right into her soul and she can see right back into mine. I’ve never felt this way before, not with anyone. “I wanted to kiss you… I want to kiss you now, if you’ll let me?”
It takes her about two seconds to answer, but it feels like were suspended for a lifetime in waiting. Her pink lips part and her mouth opens the long awaiting answer is music to my ears.
“Okay.” The word passes her lips with a breathlessness that I can feel in my own chest.
Every fiber of my being tells me to grab her and crush my lips to hers, pulling her body against mine and never let her go, but I know I can’t. I have to be gentle with her. Go at her pace, as slow as I can, even if it’s going to kill me. She’s fragile like glass and I won�
�t break her any more. No, I’ll be the one that finds all her broken pieces and pieces her back together again.
Ever so slowly, I close the distance between us, tilting my head and slanting my lips against hers. At first touch she gasps, my lips barely grazing hers, the kiss as soft as a feather. The air around us becomes heated, sizzling, and zinging, and when I feel her hands on my chest, her tiny nails digging into the fabric of my shirt, I can’t deny myself.
Cupping her cheek with one hand, I deepen the kiss, and this is the kiss we should’ve had, not the one that we had this morning, but this one, where it feels like thunder and lightning are colliding. She consumes me, and I breathe her, inhaling her essence, needing more of her. I can feel my restraint wearing, my need for her amplifying by ten with every press of my lips against hers. Forcing myself to pull away before I do something I shouldn’t, I rested my forehead against her. We’re both panting, our breaths mingling between us.
“I… I think we should go to bed. I don’t want to scare you, but I’m no saint, Em, and I want you right now.”
“Okay,” she pants, her cheeks red, her pink lips swollen. I don’t want to let her go, but I have to. I fucking have to.
“Thank you, for the kiss though. It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten.”
I give her a head nod, words refusing to pass my lips. She slips out from underneath my braced arm and walks away slowly. When I hear the sound of her door clicking open and then closed, I press my clammy forehead to the wall.
Fuck. I think I’m in love.
Chapter Ten
Emerson
It’s been almost a week since that kiss, the most epic of all kisses, and sometimes I can still feel his lips on mine. I wanted him to keep kissing me that night, but part of me knew that it wouldn’t end at just a kiss if we didn’t stop. Hell, Clark even admitted that he wouldn’t be able to stop. And that’s the reason why it can’t happen again, no matter how good and how right it felt.
I can’t do this to Clark. I can’t bind him to me, never being able to give him what he wants and needs. He’s a man, and eventually, he’ll want the one thing that I can’t give him, and that’ll be our demise. I’d much rather have him as a friend than have him as nothing at all. Now that I have him, I can’t lose him, no matter what.
I’m curled up in bed with a book when a knocking against the wooden door drags me from the pages. “Come in,” I call out a moment before the door opens and Clark appears in the doorway. I don’t know why I was expecting it to be someone else. We’re the only two that live here.
“Hey you, Ava and Vance want us to go to a party with them over at one of the frat houses. Ava said she told you about it earlier in the week?”
A boulder of anxiety fills my chest. Great.
“I don’t know… I really don’t want to go,” I mumble, closing the book.
Clark steps into the room, and the air heats. He crosses the space separating us, coming to sit on the edge of the mattress. My heart rate increases at his nearness, and my stomach erupts with butterflies. Placing his hand near my thigh but not on it, he asks with a tone as soft as cashmere, “What are you scared of, Em?”
After our kiss things changed, I changed. I don’t understand how or why but I feel closer to Clark, like I can tell him anything and he’ll still be here. Like nothing I say will change his thinking of me. I’ve never experienced that before, and least of all with the opposite sex.
“I’m scared of people looking at me, talking to me or about me. I’m scared of people touching or just getting too close to me. I’m scared of getting hurt or having a panic attack. All the eyes that will be on me. Do you want me to keep listing things off or is that enough?”
“No, I want you to tell me how you’re going to live your life and be happy if you don’t face your fears, if you don’t shatter the glass ceiling holding you back?” I drop my gaze to my lap. I know he is right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Emerson, I know you are scared, and you have every right to be, but one day you will have to overcome your fears. I won’t let anyone hurt you, not ever, but I also won’t let you hide inside this house for the rest of your life.”
He’s right, he’s so right, and I have to at least try. The entire reason I decided to go to college was to let go of my past, to experience something new. I also wanted to escape my father, but that’s only half of it.
He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore.
I let the words resonate through me, fill me, until they're all I feel inside me, lifting me up, giving me the courage that I’ll need to go through with this.
Lifting my head, I look up, staring into a pair of eyes that are the color of honey, and ask, “Will you come with me?”
A boyish grin with two dimples magically appears on his face. “You must be insane if you think I’m letting a girl as pretty as you go to a party all alone.”
Somehow he always finds a way to make me feel like I’m more than what I am. He makes me feel special even though I’m nothing compared to other girls, like Holly or Claudia.
Reluctantly I say, “Then I’ll go.” Adding, “Not all night though, and I’m only drinking one drink, and you have to promise me you’ll stay with me all night.”
It’s probably selfish of me to ask such a thing from him, but I’ll only go if he promises to stay alongside me all night. It definitely has nothing to do with all the girls I know will be tossing themselves at him, fighting for his attention.
“You know you don’t have to ask. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
My heart clenches. “I know, and I feel bad. I don’t want to cramp your style or ruin your night.” Doubt starts to cloud my thoughts. “Maybe I should just stay home it would probably be best for all…”
With the softest of kisses Clark shuts me up, my eyes widening at the slight pressure of his mouth against mine, but the biggest shock isn’t the kiss, no, it’s the absence of fear, the crippling fear of being touched that never comes.
A second passes and Clark pulls away, regret filtering into his eyes when he sees the shocked look on my face.
“Fuck, I screwed up again, didn’t I?” That angular jaw of his clenches, tension overtaking his features. He really does look like a Greek God, a beautiful, tense, God.
Shaking my head, I say, “No… It’s not you. It wasn’t the kiss. It was…” Pausing, I stare into Clark’s gaze which softens as I say the next words. “I usually get scared when someone touches me, especially when I don’t see it coming. I thought I was going to freak out, but the fear never came.”
Of course Clark grins. “It’s my charm, it scares your fear away.”
I roll my eyes and bite into my lower lip to stop the smile I know is longing to appear. I cannot allow this guy’s ego to get any bigger than it already is.
“What does it mean? I’m still afraid of touch. I know I am, but I’m not… I’m not afraid of you.” The words roll off the tongue with ease.
“It means you trust me, that you know I will never do anything to hurt you. It means you should be mine.”
I blink, unsure if I just heard him correctly. “Be mine? Like, your girlfriend?”
“Yup, the first, the one, the only,” he answers flirtatiously, though it doesn’t match the heat flickering in his eyes, a heat that tells me he wants to devour me from the inside out. Part of me wants to test Clark’s theory, to see if I can let go of the fear, but another part of me is too consumed with fear, worry that we’ll discover I’m nothing but broken, and I can’t do that to Clark. I can’t vow to be with him, but not be with him. Clark deserves better, more and even if a sliver of me does want him I’m not selfish enough to give in to that want.
“We can’t,” I say, feeling my chest fall into my stomach the moment I speak.
Clark tries to hide his disapproval by getting up and shoving his hands into his pockets, giving me a grin that I’m sure has set many panties before ablaze.
“Your loss, sweetheart.” He wiggles his eyebrows b
efore heading toward the door. “You know where I am if you change your mind,” are his parting words as he walks out of the bedroom, leaving me alone with my bleeding heart.
Whatever this is that I’m feeling it equates to wanting Clark and if there was ever any one I was going to try something with, it would be him.
The only man’s touch I can withstand...Clark Jefferson’s.
◆◆◆
Later that night after a shower and lots of talking myself off the edge of a mental cliff that Ava and Vance show up. For the first time in a very long time, I force myself into a pair of jeans and a blouse that doesn’t look three times to big. My straight hair falls in soft strands down my back.
Clark’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees me, and I won’t lie I have to wipe at the side of my mouth a little to make sure I’m not drooling. Goodness gracious, why does he have to look so good? He’s not wearing anything special, a North Woods University baseball t-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans that hug his tone legs and butt perfectly. But he’s Clark, and he could wear a trash bag and make it look good.
He offers me his hand, which I take, appreciating his need to make sure I’m okay above anything else. At least I know when everyone else fails to get me there is one person I can count on. That is if I don’t make a mess of things by letting my feelings get involved.
“You look beautiful.” He leans down and whispers into my ear, his hot breath fanning against my skin, causing shivers to cascade down my spine. I don’t know how he can think of such a thing. I’m not wearing a speck of makeup, my hair isn’t done, and I’m not wearing anything that will show off my body. In fact, I’m dressed to conceal it, only stepping a little out of comfort zone with jeans and t-shirt.
“You look beautiful too, but more like a GQ magazine model,” I say back, peeking up at him through my lashes.
“Don’t inflate his ego any more than it already is, Emerson. The fucker might float away if his head gets any bigger,” Vance says boldly. Ava nudges him in the side to get him to shut up, but there’s no point anymore. I’ve come to realize in the short amount of time of knowing him that Vance doesn’t mince words.
