Page 29 of Embers

But I’m not sure what to do about it. Making a move on your dead boyfriend’s father isn’t a normal situation for a twenty-year-old girl to manage. There’s not really an instruction manual to help me tackle this one.

I still haven’t figured out what to do when I finally drift off to sleep.

* * *

I wake up overwhelmed with arousal. It somehow happened in my sleep.

My cheeks and neck are hot. My heart is racing, and my breath is coming out in little pants. Need is throbbing painfully between my legs. And I’m rubbing against a warm, hard male body.

He’s been asleep too. Maybe he still is. He’s grunting as he rocks his erection against my lower belly, and both his large hands are cupping my bottom.

Clearly I flipped over in my sleep so I’m facing him. My nipples feel like they’re pulling toward Cal. I never knew they could feel that way. I whimper and rub my chest against his, pumping my hips against his small pelvic thrusts.

His body stiffens, and he makes a throaty noise. He was asleep before—I finally realize that fact—because now he’s definitely awake. “What the—?”

I’m too far gone to stop myself. I writhe against him, whimpering again at the endless ache of purewantI’m experiencing.

He takes a ragged inhale and releases my butt. “Fuck, baby, you gotta stop that.”

The words pierce through my lust-clouded brain, making me grind to a halt. With a helpless sob, I tear myself away from him and flop over onto my back.

Almost crying now from the agony of unfulfilled need, I run my hands from my hips to my breasts and back down again, trying to take the edge off the torment.

Cal hauls himself up into a sitting position, his back against the headboard. “Shit, I’m real sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to do that.” He takes several ragged breaths and rubs at his face roughly. “I was asleep.”

“I know. I was too. But can’t we—?” Any shame or embarrassment I might normally feel is swallowed up in the wave of longing that’s bombarding me. “Don’t you think we can… we can…dosomething?”

I squirm helplessly and rub my breasts again over the fleece pajama shirt I’m wearing. It really feels like the lust is going to claw its way out from inside me.

He stares at me—almost greedy—for a few seconds before he jerks his head and eyes away. “Fuck, no. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t ever fuck you. It’d be as wrong as wrong can be.”

“Why would it be wrong?” Now that it’s out in the open, it’s almost easier. I’m not ashamed of what I feel for him, so there’s no reason not to admit it.

“’Cause you only want it ’cause you got no one else.”

“What?” I gasp, utterly astonished by his stiff words.

“It ain’t fair to you. That you’re stuck with only me. That you got no other man in your life ’cept a broken-down ex-con who’s old enough to be your dad. It ain’t fair to you, and I’m never gonna take advantage.”

He means it. I can hear it in his voice. He’s serious, which makes me want to cry. “But I feel like I’m dying right now.”

“I know, baby. I’m real sorry. It’s natural. People get urges. And you’ve never had the chance to get things going with a boy your age. One you really like.”

“But I don’t want a boy I like.”

“Sure you do. As soon as it gets warm again, I’ll work on getting you out more. See if we can find some good people left around these parts. Maybe you can find a nice boy.” He makes a weird, snarly face, like he hates saying the words. Hates the very idea of it. He doesn’t look back at me.

And I suddenly understand. What he’s saying. What he’s not saying. And why he’s always pulled away whenever I’ve gotten too close.

He wants me. He does. As much as I want him.

But he believes it’s wrong to want me that way.

So my voice is clearer, composed, as I say softly, “Cal, I don’t want a nice boy. I don’t feel this way for nice boys.”

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