The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  “That’s a lot of wood,” I heard a soft voice from behind.

  I turned, and there she was, with her hair carelessly tousled, wrapped in the towel, deliciously half-naked under it. My cock immediately stirred and painfully stiffened, reminding me of the nagging need I tried to so methodically suppress.

  I breathed in and out, looking at her—so soft and beautiful. It would be easy to rip that towel off her, to kiss her senseless, and drive my hardened length into her sweet, slick-with-desire center. I had no doubts she wanted me. Badly. Just the way I wanted her. Or maybe I wanted her more.

  But instead, I said, “You didn’t have any dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and smiled shyly.

  “I made mac and cheese. Come.” I motioned to her.

  She followed me without one question. I returned the axe to the shed, locked it, and walked inside the cabin. Lisbeth went to the bathroom to wash up, while I used the kitchen sink to scrub my hands. I suspected she would dart up the stairs to put her clothes back on, but she emerged from the bathroom still in the towel wrapped around her.

  “Sit,” I ordered.

  She tilted her head and gave me a pointed look. I knew exactly what she wanted. But I wasn’t inclined to let her have her way. There would be no “please” or a “thank you” tonight. Yeah, I was acting like a complete jerk, but that was the only way to keep her away and my own desire at bay.

  I brought two bowls, silverware, and two wine glasses from the kitchen. Next, I carried a chilled bottle of Fess Parker Chardonnay and a bowl of salad to the table.

  “I didn’t make any salad dressing, so the store-bought will have to do,” I announced.

  “You make your own salad dressing?” Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted. God, those lips... it was a torture to look at them and restrain myself. I returned to the kitchen to fetch the bottles of salad dressing. I had Thousand Island, Bacon Ranch, Italian Vinaigrette, and my favorite Honey-Apricot-Poppy Seed. My mouth watered every time I looked at it.

  I placed all four bottles in the middle of the table and said, “I don’t put croutons in the salads. Hope it’s okay.”

  “It’s totally fine. I don’t care for croutons myself.” There was that shy, gentle smile again. It would melt me if I let it.

  Lisbeth adjusted the towel, pulling it up higher in front and securing it by tucking the corner between her breasts. She seemed clueless of the effect she had on me. It took a lot of restraint on my part not to cross to her side of the table and tear that towel right off her.

  “I don’t have a lot of clothes,” she said as if reading my mind. “Can I use your washer and dryer after dinner?”

  “Of course. Everything you need to do the laundry is in the garage. I’ll show you later.”

  I sat across the table from Lisbeth, keeping a safe distance so her proximity wouldn’t set off the heat inside again. This was becoming a major test for my self-control, but I decided I had to like this particular challenge. Or, at least, I would take it like the man I was, with my teeth gritted, and my eager cock disciplined to obedience.

  I held the dish with salad for her. “Help yourself.”

  “Thank you.” She scooped some greens onto her bowl and reached for the Honey-Apricot-Poppy Seed dressing. “I love this one.”

  “My favorite too.”

  “So Jack won’t join us for dinner?”

  “He already ate. Didn’t want to wait that long.” I was mad at him for not staying, but he insisted on leaving and coming back in the morning. Asshole.

  I opened the wine and poured some in each of the two glasses.

  “This is so nice,” Lisbeth said. She avoided my eyes.

  “I hope you like this wine.” I picked up my glass and carefully swirled it in my fingers. The golden liquid churned, licking the insides of the glass and trickling back down. It left tiny dribbles on its way down. It was an excellent Chardonnay. I watched in pleasure its slow, hypnotic dance.

  “Why do people do that?”

  “Do what?” I glanced up. She was pointing to my glass.

  “Swirl the wine glass?”

  “To allow oxygen into the liquid. It’s to aerate the wine.” I looked into those big, green eyes and then quickly away. I cleared my throat and added, “Basically, the oxygen intensifies fragrance of wine and helps release some of the key substances which, in turn, improve the bouquet.”

  I was far from being wine expert and hoped that I didn’t sound like some kind of a snob. One of my cousins owned a small winery in the Willamette Valley. Most of the family valued good wine.

  “Hmm,” Lisbeth said with appreciation in her voice. She carefully swirled her own glass.

  “Now smell it. Is the fragrance more intense?” This was a great distraction. Concentrating on something else than the thin, black bra peaking from under that damn towel was what I needed now.

  She brought her glass close to her face and, closing her eyes, inhaled deeply. And then she sighed, long and slow. So much for a great distraction from wine. Fuck.

  I took a sip, focusing on its sweet oak and a tart citrus taste. It was a perfect flavor combination, lasting on the palate just right.

  Lisbeth turned the bottle to see the label. “This tastes wonderful, so fresh and light, but satisfying at the same time.”

  I smiled. She was right.

  We ate in silence. I started to feel restless. That weird awareness nagged at me again, as if we were watched. I didn’t want to freak Lisbeth out, so I kept it to myself. I should just blame my over-stimulated senses, although there was no way I would so easily dismiss that something actually bothered me.

  Lisbeth stood up. “I’ll bring mac and cheese. Should I chop the chicken pieces?” she asked on her way to the kitchen.

  I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes on my salad, telling myself that all the colors and shapes of the baby lettuce in my bowl were fascinating. “That would be great. The knives are in the drawer under the cutting board.”

  “Got it.”

  “Do you need help?” Say no. I can’t be that close to you now.

  “I can manage.”

  I exhaled with relief and took a small sip of wine. Something stabbed at my consciousness. My eyes flew to the glass back door. I listened, but the only sounds I could catch besides Lisbeth chopping the chicken in the kitchen, were the idiots on those party boats, making more racket than it was humanly possible.

  I glanced back toward the kitchen. Lisbeth didn’t notice my awareness. Slowly, I reached for my knapsack. I withdrew my pistol and stole another glance at Lisbeth. She had her back to me, scooping the mac and cheese onto plates. I stuck the gun behind my jeans waistband, covering it with the hem of my t-shirt.

  Taking a slow breath, I quietly stood up. She was still busy at the kitchen counter. I didn’t want her to get any closer to the windows. What I needed to do was to get her out of here altogether. But I also knew she could have gone into her panic attack.

  “Have you talked with your lawyer today?” I asked, keeping my voice conversational.

  “No, I keep putting it off. But I better do that.” She didn’t look up from the cutting board.

  “Why don’t you go and make a quick call while I finish this?”

  Lisbeth glanced at me then, frowning. I forced myself to smile indifferently for her benefit. I probably didn’t look very convincing. Nevertheless, she rather reluctantly went up the stairs to her bedroom.

  As soon as I heard her door close, I scribbled a note: DON’T FREAK OUT. STAY IN YOUR ROOM. DO NOT GO OUTSIDE. I’LL BE BACK IN A FEW MOMENTS.

  I went to the garage and carefully opened the side door, gun at the ready. My eyes scanned the immediate area outside, while I kept near the inside wall. There were no movement and no suspicious sounds. The night was slowly setting in. I had a motion-activated light installed on each side of the cabin. If anyone was trying to sneak up, the light would go off.

  The party on the boats was still going st
rong. It shouldn’t continue for much longer, or someone would finally call the cops. The clamor they were making would be a perfect cover for any gunshots. I doubted the neighbors would hear them, especially because my cabin sat far away from any other homes, surrounded only by thick woods.

  With my back pressed to the wall, I went just outside the garage door. I stopped there before the motion-activated light came to life. By now my eyes were used to the dark and registered everything around. I was trained to differentiate and notice immediately whatever was out of ordinary. But nothing so far was. I closed the garage door behind me. It locked, so nobody from the outside could enter without the key.

  I continued moving around the cabin, until I came to the spot under Lisbeth’s bedroom window. The window was open, and I could hear her voice, although it was hard to catch the words, courtesy of the fucking party boat.

  No matter. She would likely tell me what she learned from the lawyer. I proceeded scanning the area, my senses on the highest alert. I made the full circle until I arrived back at the garage-side door. I went in the opposite direction until I was on the other side of the cabin. There, I stepped farther into the woods. I found a good hiding spot from where I could observe the front, the back, and that side of the cabin.

  I sat on the ground, perfectly hidden from view by the thick greenery and the veil of the night. My back pushed onto a tree trunk. The ground in this part of the woods was covered with dry leaves, pine needles, and small pieces of broken branches. If anyone tried to sneak up on me, I would hear them approach.

  I waited, still and alert, listening, concentrated on the surroundings.

  A light breeze rustling the leaves; the pungent fragrance of the woods; the distant music and drunken voices from the boats.

  More waiting. Nothing changed. The woods stood still and undisturbed. The motion-activated lights didn’t come on, so I was sure there was no movement by the cabin either. No new sounds.

  My phone vibrated against my thigh. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Jack, checking in. I typed ALL FINE HERE. There wasn’t anything going on. Maybe my so-called sixth sense ran on overload and totally freaked out on me.

  I put the phone back in my pocket and decided to wait another five minutes. After that time, I slowly stood up, with the gun in my hand. I scanned the area. Nothing. Without making any unnecessary noise, I crept back to the cabin. I searched the immediate area once more and then unlocked the glass back door.

  I walked up the stairs and called out, “Lisbeth, it’s me. Where are you?”

  Her bedroom door flew open. She was crying and shivering. “What’s going on? Where did you go? That note... it scared me so much.”

  She wasn’t wearing the towel. Instead, she only had on a panties and a bra—both scanty enough to leave very little covered. It felt as if my heart flipped in my chest, and a rush of heat roared down to my crotch.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I sensed something weird. It’s okay, nothing’s wrong.”

  She leaned against the door jamb and covered her face with her hands, sobbing quietly. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but I knew that would end up where it shouldn’t, especially because she was practically naked. The proximity to her bed was tempting. Too tempting. My self-control around Lisbeth was crumbling, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Hey, look at me,” I said maybe a bit too harshly. “You can’t freak out every time I go to check the area. I’ll do that again and again, because of the circumstances. What you must do instead is to get yourself together and stay calm. Or as calm as you can.”

  Lisbeth took a few shaky breaths, wiped her eyes off, but didn’t stop trembling. Don’t have a panic attack now, please. I was angry with myself because I couldn’t trust myself to comfort her. Instead, I felt like an asshole. But that was better than the remorse I would feel if I ended up having sex with her. I reminded myself over and over, Off limits!

  “Put some clothes on and come downstairs. Tell me about your phone call,” I said and walked off.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  LISBETH

  I wanted to scream. Scream as loud as I possibly could, until my throat felt raw and I lost my voice. The past was happening again and again—the danger, the memories, the agony, and the terror. How could I stay calm? How did he expect me to?

  But he was right. That was the best way to help him, so he would stay attuned to the threat instead of worrying about my panic attacks. I had to be strong, if not for myself then for him. I owed that much to Ethan. The realization hit me—I trusted him! For the first time in a long while I trusted another person. That had an instant effect on me, sobering me. I was thunderstruck. Trust was a big deal for me. I could count on the fingers of one hand all the people that have ever earned my trust.

  I also realized that I was standing here in only my lingerie. Ethan saw me like that! The thought was perplexing. I felt self-conscious and uncomfortable. “Oh, shit,” I whispered. “Shit, shit.”

  I quickly threw my shirt and pants back on, not worrying about the fact that I should’ve taken a shower after swimming in the Lake. That could wait. Absentmindedly, I put my cell phone in my back pocket and went downstairs to find Ethan.

  He was standing by the glass door to the back, looking at the sun setting over the lake. Distractedly, he held a glass of Chardonnay in his hand. It was tipping to the side, and soon the wine would spill.

  I rushed to him and wrapped my fingers around the glass. It easily slid out of his grasp, and he looked at me.

  “It almost tipped over. I just thought... I better save it,” I stammered under his pinning gaze. Ethan wasn’t exactly frowning, but his eyebrows set low over his eyes. I offered the glass back to him, and he took it.

  “Bring your wine here.” It wasn’t a request or a suggestion; it sounded like a command.

  For a brief moment I wondered how he talked to his lovers. I suspected there wasn’t one special girlfriend in his life, unless she lived far away. Maybe she was in the military and stationed abroad, like Ethan used to be? Otherwise, how could he bring another woman here, no matter the circumstances, without her knowing? I felt a brief pang of jealousy, thinking about him with someone else, but I hurriedly suppressed it, deeming it irrational.

  I was still standing by the window, my eyes on the colorful sky. Without turning his gaze from the sunset, Ethan asked very quietly, “Don’t you want your wine?”

  And now he sounded gentle, sad even. Sweet God, this man was a riddle. I decided to appease him and went to the table to get my glass. When I returned, he faced me.

  “Did you talk with your lawyer?” he asked.

  “Yes. It was strange though...”

  “Why? What did she say?”

  “You see, when I called her last time, she was very upset about me taking off and not telling anyone where I was heading to. She wanted to know where I was. But today, she didn’t ask even once. And she sounded completely at ease.”

  Ethan looked sharply at me. “Go on.”

  I sighed. “She said that the FBI is cracking that case. They still need me, but she also mentioned that they have everything under control.”

  “What does that actually mean? Did she elaborate?”

  “No. But she sounded as if everything was going well and... I got this weird feeling that she thought I am not in danger anymore.”

  “Did you ask her for specifics?”

  “I commented on the fact that she wasn’t frantic like she was before. That’s when she said the FBI has everything under control. Oh, and she said to stay put; not to move around, as if she knew where I was.”

  The frown on Ethan’s face was back. “Where is your phone?”

  I took it out from my pocket and gave it to him.

  “Is this your phone? Your own?” he asked sharply.

  “No, not my own. I lost my cell phone when I ran from the gang... the night Helen was murdered. This one here is from the FBI. They said it’s a part of the witness protection
program package.”

  “Fuck!” he hissed. “I should’ve thought about that.”

  “What is it? Ethan, what’s going on?” My heart started to pound in my chest. Something was very wrong.

  “They know your location. I’m sure this phone is tapped. The FBI utilizes the cell phone’s air card to communicate with their surveillance tool.” He explained in a measured tone, which was much worse than if he screamed at me.

  “So, so... they’re coming here?” My voice went up an octave.

  “They’re probably already here. When did you call from this phone the first time after arriving at the cabin?”

  “Right after we got here. I called Jessica, my lawyer!”

  “That was enough time for the FBI to park their stingray close by.” Ethan’s jaws clenched. He swore and took his own phone out. “They’re sweeping data from everyone in the area, so they’ve got my phone too. Put your boots on and get all your stuff. Quick. We’re leaving.”

  “What’s stingray? How do you know all this?”

  “It’s something the FBI uses to mimic a cell phone tower. It grabs the signal from your air card and pinpoints the precise location of your phone.” He put a few things into his knapsack and then grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me to the staircase. “Let’s go.”

  “But where are we going? What are we gonna do?” I ran up the stairs with him and to my bedroom. I noticed a bulge on his lower back right above his waistband. The gun.

  I gathered a few of my items that actually weren’t kept in my backpack, put my socks and boots on, and was ready to go.

  Ethan closed the window and went to his bedroom. A minute later he returned and said, “I have a two-way radio in the truck. It doesn’t use cell towers, so we should be fine. Jack has a radio, too. It’s one of our little firemen quirks. Let’s hope he’ll answer it.”