The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (248 page)

He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line. And just like that, the subject was closed.

Disappointment? No, it couldn’t be. Was it? Oh, no. Was I falling for him?

The battle fought inside me must’ve been visible on my face, because Ethan asked, “Is that okay? Are you still mad at me? You have a right to be.”

“No, I’m not,” I said quickly, trying to rake my hand through my hair. The ring on my finger got tangled in my hair. I hissed in pain.

Ethan leaned closer. Slowly and very gently he worked on extricating it. His face was too close to mine. I could only think of his sinful lips, of his masterful kissing skills, of his strong arms around me, and his chest pressed possessively onto mine. I closed my eyes, blocking that vision from my mind, and trying to concentrate on something else. Anything.

A faint fragrance of his cologne was the last straw. Against my will, I whispered, “What if I don’t want you to?”

He stilled. I was afraid to open my eyes.

“Don’t want me to do... what?” he whispered back.

His breath tickled my face. I wanted him so badly. No matter the consequences, I wanted this man.

I licked my lips and inhaled the tantalizing mixture of his cologne and his own intoxicating, masculine scent. There was nothing else that mattered now. Nothing. Just him.

His fingers brushed alongside my ear and down to my neck.

I inhaled sharply and leaned into his touch. “Ethan.” Heat exploded in my very core, rushing down to my sex, overwhelming me; holding me hostage.

When I forced my eyes open, I saw his face even closer than before. Our lips almost touched. Almost. And then he quickly withdrew. His jaw was set, and he took a deep breath.

“No,” he said quietly. “I made a promise. I don’t go back on my promises.”

That delicious heat inside me disappeared as fast as it surfaced. It was immediately replaced by an infuriating remorse. What was wrong with me? I wanted to scream and to bang my head against something. I felt mortified.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry, I am so sorry, Ethan. I don’t know what the hell came over me.” I shook my head and turned away. “How awkward,” I whispered.

He didn’t say anything to that. I was afraid to look back at him.

“Okay, look. It is apparent that we are attracted to each other. But I can’t go ahead with this. I would be the worst kind of jerk if I got into your pants. You know what I’ve offered, and that is all I can give you. I’m sorry.” He stood up and walked away.

I was dumbfounded. Right now I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to think. First, he kisses me like there is no tomorrow. Then, he gets angry about that. Next, he apologizes. Later on, he apologizes again and makes me think he wants me. And then, he promptly stops me and tells me to forget it. If a man has ever confused me, it was child’s play comparing to what Ethan was doing to me.

I sat, looking into the distance, playing a tag war with my own thoughts: he is right; no, he is even more confused than I am, and so on, back and forth. Only it wasn’t a play; there was no fun in my internal tag war. There only was pain, frustration, and humiliation.

But the truth was this—I deserved that. From the beginning, I knew Ethan was a difficult guy. But most importantly, I knew I should have kept away from him, instead of letting down my guard. Why did I let him do that to me? I felt degraded, but mostly naïve. That in turn, made me angry. I was really mad. It didn’t matter at whom—him or myself. The anger was boiling inside me, wanting to get out.

I stood up and pulled my shirt and my pants off. In only panties and a bra, I dived into the water. Swimming always relaxed me. It was my way of channeling all the bad emotions into the water; away from myself.

The water was cold. My breathing rate spiked for a few moments, while my body temperature counteracted the thermal shock. But soon, my muscles relaxed, and my breath was back to normal.

I was a good swimmer and always felt comfortable in the water. I swam quickly away from the dock. Freestyle was my favorite stroke because it gave me speed. I concentrated on breathing and on the measured, precise movements of my muscles. It was the best way I knew to forget about trouble with Ethan.

The party boats were ahead of me. I didn’t want to get any closer to them, so I flipped around in the water and changed the direction, switching to the butterfly stroke. My legs kicked together from the hips in a dolphin-style kick, while my arms rotated over my shoulders, bringing me up and down again.

I was lost in the joy of swimming when I heard a male voice, right behind me, “Hey, wait up!”

I slowed down and, treading water in the upright position, looked toward where the voice came from. A grinning face with a mustache and a small beard appeared close to me.

“You’re an awesome swimmer! How do you do the butterfly stroke so well?” he asked with awe in his voice.

“Years of practice,” I said.

“Hey, I’m Rob. What’s your name?”

“Gloria.”

“Come to the boats.” He pointed behind him. “We’re celebrating my buddy’s twenty-fifth birthday. There are over thirty people there.”

“Thanks, but I have to go now.” I glanced toward the shore.

Ethan stood there, arms crossed over his chest, watching us.

Rob saw him and asked, “Your boyfriend?”

“No. Just a friend.”

“He can come too.”

“Well, maybe. But we have company. I gotta go. Thanks for the invite.” I dived under the water, blocking off Rob’s voice. I was sure he was about to invite Jack too. Heck, he would invite the whole damn town. That party was, most likely, going to be long and loud. There went a peaceful night and my chance for a soundless sleep.

I swam to the dock and pulled myself up. Ethan still stood at the shore. Now he was shading his face from the sun with his hand and looking directly at me. I remembered that I didn’t have a swimming suit on but just a skimpy, very thin bra and panties. They stuck to my body, leaving very little to imagination. Great.

I hurriedly sat down, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my half-nakedness from Ethan’s eyes. I turned away from him and from the party boats, gazing at the houses on the other side of the Lake.

My contemplation was short-lived when I heard someone walking toward me on the dock. It was probably Ethan, but I didn’t feel like talking. Or maybe it was Jack? Either way, I didn’t bother to see who was there.

Something soft and warm encircled my shoulders and back. I startled and looked up. Ethan brought me a large, white towel.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t mention it. What did that guy want?”

I shrugged indifferently. “Invited me... actually both of us to their event. There, on the boat,” I tipped my chin toward the three boats, now linked together into a one, big party place.

“You shouldn’t have talked with anyone. Did you tell him your name?” Ethan asked in harsh voice. His eyes bored into my face.

“I told him it’s Gloria.”

“You talked with him for what... one minute and already gave him your name? What else, a phone number?”

Geez, really? Why was he so pissed?

“Ethan, I was just polite. He introduced himself, so I simply reciprocated. That’s all. I didn’t accept the invitation, if that’s what you’re so angry about.”

“I’m not angry,” he denied. His brows drew together, and a deep, horizontal grove marked his smooth forehead.

I looked at him passively, without making a comment. With the corner of my towel, I attempted to dry my hair. But no matter how carefully I pulled on it so the rest of the towel wouldn’t slide off me, I wasn’t succeeding. Finally, I gave up and wrapped the towel closer around my body.

“Do not talk to anyone again,” he demanded in a controlled, quiet voice that carried a load of insistence. And then he walked off.

I wondered where Jack was. Maybe he could provide some necessary buffer between Ethan and me? I looked back toward the cabin, but saw see neither of them.

The party crowd turned down the music and was singing the “Happy Birthday” song. Most of the voices sounded either off-key or drunk. Or both. What I wanted now was to be inside Ethan’s cabin, lying in bed, and dreaming of a safer future.

––––––––

T
his was hopeless. I was lost in her; lost in some stupid, naïve, childish dream. What the hell did she have in her that none of the other women haven’t possessed? I was always in control.
Always!
She shattered my orderly life and turned my neatly composed world upside fucking down! This couldn’t be happening. This
had
to stop. I wasn’t looking for any changes, for any altered way of living. But here came Miss Different and kicked everything I so meticulously worked for to the curb.

I paced around my bedroom, swearing quietly under my breath, clenching and unclenching my jaw. I stopped by the window and deliberately looked at her. She appeared so soft and small, wrapped in that towel. So alone; all on her own out on that dock. Lonely...

Stop that fucking nonsense!
I chastised myself. She’s a grown woman, not that sixteen-year-old Afghan orphan kid!

I sat heavily on my bed, my eyes squeezed shut, my head in my hands. But I wasn’t thinking of Najia. All my thoughts were with Lisbeth. She wasn’t a child that needed protection, but a grown woman, although she needed protection too, and I offered it. Why couldn’t I simply provide
only
what I offered and nothing more? I had nothing more to give. Or did I?

Why would I want her for myself? There were dozens of willing women, waiting for one smile, one word from me; experienced women who knew what the guy like me desired. They were eager to give to me anything I ever required of them. They liked to serve me, to please me, to satisfy all my sexual needs. She, on the other hand, was completely green, I was sure of that. I could sense it. Why would I even want to bother? She would probably just get scared off when she learned how I liked things in the bedroom.

I got up to my feet and went to the window. Again. Fuck. She was a magnet, luring me, possessing me. Me, who has never succumbed to a woman’s charms for longer than a few nights. No matter that I knew her only for two days. I already realized she was going to be my undoing—if I let her.

I turned my back to the window as another thought struck me. Maybe we should do it, to get that crazy attraction out of our systems? Maybe that was only a freaky fascination? A whim? Hormones gone awry? What would she say to that? No, I didn’t want to. I knew better—she wasn’t like the others. I shouldn’t let her close to me.

Jack went to Ryley’s cabin for the night. He promised to return early in the morning, but if anything started happening here, he wanted me to call right away. I was a lucky bastard to have a best friend like Jack. He was always there for me. I tried to reciprocate, but Jack lived a simple, boring life with no conflicts, no problems, and no need for any intervention. Nevertheless, I owed him big time.

It started to get dark. Lisbeth was still sitting on the dock, facing away from the cabin. Damn girl. Why couldn’t she just come in, eat dinner, and quietly go to bed? I baked macaroni and cheese then grilled some chicken breasts, which I kept warm in the oven.

I was low on wood for the fire pit outside and for the wood-burning stove. That was a good timing, since I badly needed a distraction. I went outside, got an axe from my little shed, and went to the side of the cabin where the larger pieces of wood were stored under the eaves.

I turned to look at Lisbeth. Nothing changed since I checked on her last—she still sat on the dock, watching the sunset. It painted the evening sky in a myriad of colors.

I took the largest piece of wood, placed it over the chopping block, and grasped the axe with both hands. I lifted the axe over my head and brought it down with as much force as I could muster. The wood split in half, small bits flying to the sides. I picked one of the halves, put it back on the chopping block, repositioned it again, and brought the axe down once more. I repeated the sequence a few more times, adding new chunks of wood to the block.

Sweat ran down my chest and stomach, down my back, and along my arms and neck. I took my t-shirt off. I ran it over my upper body, soaking as much sweat as it would take. Next, I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm, picked the axe from the ground, and took a long, deep breath. Another piece of wood split in two.

I continued until there was a neat stack of wood for burning. There was no need for more, but I kept going: the wood chunk, the axe, the slam, the halves. Repeat. Over and over, until my arms shook and my shoulders and upper back screamed in protest. I wiped the sweat off my face and neck once more and closed my eyes, lifting my face to the sky.

“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.