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

by Brina Courtney

  I inhaled, wanting to drink in every inch of her—taste and scent. Orange blossoms and mint. I’d never met anyone who smelled that way. It was intoxicating without the alcohol blending in behind it. I wanted more. Of her. Of this. Of all of it.

  I gently pushed her back so that I lay over her. My elbow braced my weight and with my hand, I trailed my fingers down the length of her body from shoulder to thigh and back. I let it brush her breast and she tensed up. A small noise escaped her mouth between kisses. I parted her lips with mine and slipped my tongue inside. Her breath was hot on my face, her open mouth warm and inviting. Asking for more. I slipped my hand underneath her shirt and unclasped her bra before catching her nipple between my fingers and gently pulling. She whimpered and pushed her hips against mine.

  My jeans, already tight, filled to the point of painful. I pushed against her, feeling my bulge hit the spot between her thighs. I was rewarded with a soft moan and then her hands reached down to grip my belt loops. She held me there while she grinded her hips against mine, her tongue massaging at a pace that made me want to get rid of these clothes and match it with an entirely different body part.

  I slipped my hand around to her ass and inside the hem of her shorts, working my way up the inside of her thigh. I pushed her panties aside and stroked her clit, my fingers light and teasing. She pulled me tighter against her, hips straining, tongue moving. And the noises she was making were sexy as hell. I found her already wet and slipped a finger easily inside her, pushing slowly. She held on tight and moved against my hand, a silent plea for more. I gave it to her, stroking in and out, my movements excruciatingly slow.

  “Summer ... I want you,” I whispered, still stroking her insides.

  “Take me,” she whimpered back.

  “Right here?”

  “Right here,” she pleaded.

  Still, I didn’t remove my hand. I increased the pressure, pushing harder into her with my fingers, pausing to tease her clit before sliding back inside her folds. She moved against me, her rhythm attempting to increase the pace, but I kept it slow.

  When she began to shake, I knew she was close. Her breathing turned shallow and she let out a small cry. I kissed a trail up her neck and pulled her earlobe into my mouth, inhaling the heady scent of her perfume. I exhaled, letting my breath tickle her ear.

  Summer shuddered, clinging to me with nails that dug into my flesh even through the fabric of my shirt. “Ford,” she said on a breath.

  After a moment, her entire body went limp and her kiss turned lazy. I slid my fingers out and traced small circles around the outside of her. I was rock hard and ready to go but I didn’t want to miss this moment—the way she looked in the low light with her hair spread around her and that satisfied-yet-hungry grin playing at the edges of her mouth.

  I stared down at her, taking in her half smile and closed eyes. “I love being the one to make you look like this,” I whispered, my face only inches from hers.

  “Mmm. Ford, I love you,” she replied.

  The second the words were out, she froze. My hands stilled in surprise and before I could react, she was scooting out from underneath me, her eyes opened wide in horror. I had no idea what to say. It wasn’t a phrase I’d expected to hear from her. Ever. Though, now that I’d heard it, a slow wave of warmth was spreading over me, and I couldn’t deny how ridiculously giddy it’d made me that she’d said it. That she meant it.

  When I didn’t say anything, Summer jumped to her feet, adjusting her shirt and running a hand through her hair. “Shit—I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I didn’t mean—Forget I said that.” Her face was three different shades of red as she tried to recover from the unintentional slip.

  I climbed to my feet, knowing I needed to say something to make this right. And not just for her, I realized, but for me. I wanted to say something back.

  “Summer, wait.” I caught her hand just as she turned away and pulled her back to face me.

  “What?” Her expression was tight as if she’d braced herself.

  I used my free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. I wanted to see the look in her eyes for this one. I wanted to remember this moment. “Did you mean it?”

  Her face reddened another shade and she bit her lip. It took her a long time to answer, or maybe to decide how to answer. When she did, her shoulders sagged in some version of defeat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re leaving.”

  “It matters for right now,” I said.

  Her expression told me she wasn’t convinced. I took a deep breath. There was a strange fullness in my chest right over my heart and I knew that although she’d had the guts to say it first, I felt the same. Despite the fear, I pushed on. “It matters because ... I love you too.”

  “Ford.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  I recognized that look and the argument that would follow. I pressed on without giving her a chance. “No matter what happens after this, you’ve changed me, Summer. I love you for that and for the fact that not once have you asked for that change. What we have, what we are, is beautiful. Don’t ruin it by worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet. This moment right here is ours. Let’s take our moments.”

  She blinked and when her eyes opened, they were clear and shining. Slowly, she reached up and wound her arms around my neck. “All right,” she said softly. “Let’s take our moments.”

  When she smiled, I saw the way she had to work at it. I knew the feeling. Letting the love in was a scary choice. One I’d choose over and over again if it meant holding onto this feeling. Holding onto Summer. The only thing better was feeling her hold onto me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Summer

  "After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations."

  —Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

  The sight of your father standing over your bed in the middle of the night is weird at best, creepy at worst. I barely held back the scream that bubbled in my throat when I opened my eyes to the sight of him bent over me and shaking my shoulder to rouse me.

  “What ...?” I began, closer to sleep than awake.

  “Wake up, honey,” he said. His voice was oddly gentle. That, more than anything, let me know something was up. Something serious.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s your mother. She was in a car accident. We need to go.”

  I threw the cover back, six different types of alarm bells sounding in my head. Panic shot through me as my feet hit the chilly hardwood. “Is she okay? Is she—?”

  “She’s stable. That’s all I know. Can you throw some clothes on?” He backed off to give me some room as I rummaged in the darkness for the jeans I’d thrown aside earlier.

  I went to the closet and ripped a shirt off the hanger. “I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

  He was already out the door, his boots creaking down the steps as he went.

  The house was dark and quiet as I descended the stairs. I found Dad in the kitchen with Mazie, a low lamp sending a single beam of light across the tiled floor. It felt much later than one thirty—the time advertised on the oven as I passed—but on a work night in the middle of harvest season, most of us crashed by ten or so. Waking any earlier than sunrise left me feeling a little muddled on a normal night. Right now, my brain was mush—nothing made sense. What was my mother doing in a car in the middle of the night, anyway?

  Mazie handed Dad and I each a full to-go cup before pressing Dad’s keys into his hand. I noticed it shook slightly as he took them, and my chest hurt to see his worry displayed so obviously. It made my heart break for him all over again.

  “You’ll call everyone?” Dad asked as Mazie ushered us out the door.

  “I’ll call everyone,” she promised. “Now go.”

  County Hospital wasn’t far but the drive seemed to last forever. Dad and I didn’t speak. I knew he was worried and wrapped up in his thoughts. We had such little information to go on. She was okay. Stable, they�
�d said. I tried to focus on that, and not on the way Dad’s forehead creased with extra worry lines or the fact that this woman kept breaking his heart, albeit unintentionally this time, but still ... couldn’t she stop making him sad?

  Guilt washed over me for thinking that when she was possibly hurt. But the anger rose, unbidden, right alongside the worry and fear for her well-being. I wanted her to be okay. But I also wanted to be mad. I wasn’t sure how the two feelings co-existed, but they did. And it made me feel all kinds of tossed around by the time we pulled into visitor parking on the emergency side.

  My phone buzzed in my hand and I jumped at the unexpected vibration. I willed my pulse to slow enough to breathe before answering it. “Casey,” I said. My voice had a slight waver but at least there weren’t tears. Yet.

  “What’s the word?” His tone held a combination of sleep and worry. In the background, I heard a car door shut and an engine crank. I tried not to let it affect me, but the familiarity of his voice, the knowledge he was already in the car, it comforted me—and threatened to break me down right here in the parking lot. I swallowed hard.

  “Not sure yet. We just got here. Dad was told she’s stable, though.”

  “Well, that’s something. Hold the fort. We’ll be there in ten.”

  I faltered mid-step. “We?”

  “Ford and I.” He said it like it was completely obvious that Ford would be included for something like this. It warmed me to see him becoming such a close part of my family. To see everyone else accepting him so easily. I barely felt the pang in my gut—my body’s way of not letting me forget this was all temporary. Knowing he was coming eclipsed any amount of sadness.

  “Thanks, Casey,” I said, hurrying to catch up with Dad as we strode toward the sliding doors. “And hurry.”

  “We’ll be there soon,” Casey said before disconnecting.

  Inside the lobby, I blinked over and over. It was lit up like a landing strip in here, the bustle of uniforms amping up my stress level from the sheer energy of it all. I followed Dad to the front desk and waited while he gave my mother’s name to the nurse on duty. She gave each of us a sticker to wear with the room number on it and hit the button for the automatic door behind her.

  “All the way to the end, take a left. Then it’s the third room on the right,” she called after us.

  “Thank you,” Dad called over his shoulder, pulling me along.

  When I turned the corner and saw a group of EMTs standing outside her room, my stomach dropped hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. I halted and grabbed for the wall, the fear paralyzing me. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, blocking out the entire left side of Dad’s frown as he turned back to me.

  “Summer?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. “Summer, she’s fine. We’re almost there. Breathe,” he added in a firm voice.

  I obeyed, sucking in air through lungs that were stuck. It sounded raspy but it succeeded in putting all my organs back where they belonged. After a few more labored breaths, my heart no longer felt lodged in my knees. I straightened but kept one hand on the wall, taking tiny steps toward my mother’s room. Part of me didn’t want to get there and see what sort of damage had been done.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said, feeling anything but.

  What if it was bad? What if she wasn’t okay? What if I never got the chance to forgive her?

  In that moment I realized the anger at my mother wasn’t nearly as permanent as I thought. She was my mother. The one person in the whole world I could be mad at and say whatever I needed because at the end of the day, she would love me no matter what. But that only applied if she was still around to love me. I needed her to be around.

  My dad reached the door first, which was actually a curtain. The EMTs parted to let us pass. I didn’t make eye contact with a single one of them. Instead, I stared at the squares on my dad’s flannel shirt as I followed him inside.

  The room smelled like the rest of the place: sterile to the point of unpleasant. A small counter with a sink lined one wall and a whiteboard filled with scribbled names and numbers hung on the other.

  “Dean.” I heard my mother’s voice as my dad moved to her side, leaving me exposed and giving me no choice but to look at her. I stood rooted to the spot as I took in the sight of my beautiful, capable mother, laying bandaged in a hospital bed.

  “Hey,” Dad said. My parents shared a smile and he took the hand she offered him, holding it lightly in his. Her other arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow and in a sling that looped around her neck. Her right leg stuck out from underneath the thin blanket. It too was wrapped in gauze from knee to ankle and propped on pillows.

  “Summer,” she said, and I drew my eyes from her injured leg to her face for the first time. Around scrapes on both cheeks and a larger cut on her forehead with a bandage over it, she was smiling at me.

  I burst into tears.

  “Oh, honey.” She raised her bandaged arm in a welcoming gesture. “Come here.”

  I stumbled my way to her bedside and let her pull me into a hug. I buried my face in her neck, the familiar scent of her freesia perfume mingling with the alcohol and disinfectant they’d rubbed on her cuts. The reminder of her wounds combined with the comfort of her arms around me only made me cry harder. How long had it been since she’d hugged me? Since I’d let her?

  “I’m all right,” she said, her uninjured hand stroking my hair as I dripped tears onto the shoulder of her hospital gown.

  “Are you?” I managed between sniffles. “Because all the emergency guys are standing out there and I thought—I thought maybe you—I’m so sorry, Mom. For everything. I don’t want to be mad anymore. I don’t want to fight. I just needed someone to blame. But it’s not you. It’s not, I swear.”

  “I know, darling. I know. It’s okay. Those men were asking me about real estate while they waited for my doctor to sign their drop-off papers. I’m fine, really.”

  I sniffled again. “Real estate?”

  “Yes. One of them wants to buy a house and was asking me questions about pricing and things. Nothing more,” she assured me.

  I sat up, perching on the edge of her bed so I could look at her. “You’re really okay?” I asked.

  She smiled and it lit her face. “Now that you’re here, I’m more than okay.”

  I knew what she meant, but I needed to know about her physical health first. “But you’re bandaged.”

  “My arm and ankle are sprained. My leg was cut when the glass shattered and needed a few stitches. Otherwise, it’s just scratches and bruises.”

  “What happened?” my dad asked.

  “Idiot ran a stop sign,” she said.

  My dad’s eyes tightened at the corners. “The nurse on the phone said alcohol may have been a factor.”

  My gaze cut to him sharply. “You didn’t tell me that,” I said. I looked at my mother questioningly.

  “Not me,” she said. “The other driver. That Danny kid you went to school with ...?”

  My dad and I shared a look. “I’m going to kick his ass,” my dad said. My mother looked at him in surprise.

  “Dean,” she scolded.

  “There are a select few circumstances in life where ass-kicking is perfectly acceptable. This is one of them, so don’t give me any shit,” he said.

  I gave him my best smile. “No shit being given,” I said. “I’ll even drive you.”

  “Summer,” my mom said. “Both of you. We don’t repay violence with violence.”

  “What about stupidity for stupidity?” my dad said.

  “I think the Lord gave Grayson County all the stupidity it could handle in that boy. Let’s not add to it.” my mother said wryly.

  I snorted.

  The sound of footsteps, heavy and rushed, squeaked against the linoleum hallway. Deep voices spoke in hushed tones followed by the curtain being yanked aside.

  “Cathy,” Casey said, relief relaxing his features as he took in the sight of the three of us huddled together. I saw th
e spark as he noticed my hand resting over my mother’s.

  “Hello, Casey,” she said warmly.

  “How are you?” he asked. I moved aside so he could kiss her cheek.

  “I’m fine. Scrapes and bruises. Can’t say the same for my car, though,” she said.

  He grimaced. “I’ll fix it up for you, don’t worry about it.”

  She laughed. “I doubt it. The EMTs said it was totaled. The hood looks strangely like an accordion. My windshield’s cracked and shattered. He got me good.”

  “Do we know who it was?” Casey asked, looking from my mom to me and back.

  “Danny,” my dad answered first, and he and Casey shared a murderous look.

  “Asshole,” Casey said. “I’ll kick his ass.”

  “Get in line,” my dad told him.

  “Darla’s fired up and ready to go if we want to make it a party,” said a deep voice from the open doorway. Ford stood in front of the metal door frame, arms crossed over his chest, eyes blazing at the mention of the person responsible.

  His jeans hung low on his hips from throwing them on without a belt. His T-shirt had a coffee stain on the bottom hem, almost unnoticeable through the wrinkles. I had a feeling he’d grabbed from the wrong pile of laundry in his haste to get dressed. My heart did a little dance at the thought of him rushing to be here for her, for me. I wanted to run my hands through his disheveled hair and plant one on him right in front of everyone.

  “Ford,” my mother said, smiling at him. “It was very sweet of you to come.”

  He never took his eyes off me as he said, “You couldn’t keep me away.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ford

  "Stay is a charming word in a friend's vocabulary."

  —Amos Bronson Alcott, Concord Days

  Summer’s tear-streaked cheeks were a dead giveaway that I’d done the right thing in coming tonight. When Casey had woken me and said Cathy had been taken to County in an ambulance, I hadn’t hesitated. I’d thrown on jeans and a shirt double time, stuffed my feet into boots, and raced Casey to the truck. It wasn’t until I’d cranked up Darla and listened to Casey on the phone with Summer that I’d wondered if it was my place to be here. In that moment, they’d never sounded more like brother and sister. The affection and shared worry between them was clear and impenetrable. I was an outsider looking in.