Untouched A Cedar Cove Novella

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.