Page 15 of Embers

He hasn’t had sex since Derek and I moved in with him three years ago. I know this is a fact because I’ve spent every single night with him since then. I suddenly wonder if random horniness is a problem for him.

He used to seem really old to me, but in truth he’s probably around forty. Not too old for sex.

He looks pretty good naked.

I wonder what it would feel like to touch him there.

When I realize how far my thoughts are going astray, I gasp and whirl back around so I can’t see him.

It feels like Cal is staring at my back now. “Whatcha doin’, kid?” he asks after several seconds.

“Nothing,” I say, hoping he can’t hear anything in my voice. “I’m keeping watch.”

4

That evening,as I’m rubbing lotion on Cal’s back like usual before we get ready for bed, it feels different.

I don’t know exactly why or how, but it does.

His skin is still red, but it’s peeling less, and he’s got fewer of those bumps than he did. The lotion is definitely helping, so there’s no way I’m going to stop applying it every night for as long as we have it available.

But I feel self-conscious in a way that’s not normal for me as I rub my hands up and down his bare back. He’s still and silent as he always is. He didn’t even grumble or complain when I went to get the lotion a few minutes ago.

But it still feels like he doesn’t want me to be doing this, and that hurts my feelings more than it should.

Because I like doing it. Touching him. Sliding my palms against his skin. Feeling the outline of his bones and the contours of his muscles. I’ve never been a touchy person, but this seems different.

It feels like I’m taking care of him, and I like that.

I feel really close to him, and I like that too.

Despite my mental lectures about getting this done quickly so he doesn’t become uncomfortable, I don’t hurry as much as I should. I keep picturing him this afternoon, standing naked under the waterfall. Imagining what it would be like to be touching him then. Touching him all over.

The curve of his ass. The scars on his arm. The thick shape of his cock. I imagine how it would feel beneath my fingers.

I have no experience to draw on in that regard. Derek was the only boyfriend I ever had, and we never had sex. He wanted to wait until we got married, and I had no objections to that plan. I was far more interested in being close to him emotionally back then than I was in getting down and dirty with him in bed. Other than random images in movies and on the internet, the only man I’ve ever seen naked is Cal. This afternoon.

I’m twenty. My birthday was last month. Cal gave me a pretty pink sweater and a small carved cedar box to put my little collection of trinkets in. He lit candles, and I made him sing me the birthday song. It was a good evening. I still look back on it and smile. But a twenty-year-old shouldn’t be as clueless as I am. She shouldn’t have to sneak guilty pleasure out of rubbing lotion into a man’s back.

“Your skin’s getting better,” I say, trying to break into my weird mood with practicalities.

He grunts, but for him that’s a regular response.

“The lotion is working.” I’ve got his back pretty well covered now, so I slide my hands up to his neck. I massage him there, then move my hands over to his shoulders to knead the tight muscles. He’s breathing heavily now. Loud enough for me to hear. For some reason, I like the sound of it.

I dig into the knots I find, pressing deeply, wanting them to loosen up.

Cal groans, low and soft and long and carnal.

All my female parts clamp down hard at the sound of it.

My hands grow still on his shoulders. Something thick and warm throbs in the air between us. “Cal?” I ask in almost a whisper.

Something is about to happen, and I want it to happen.

I want it so much.

Without warning, he lurches forward, jerking away of my hands. He takes several steps away from me.

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