More of You: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel

by Jackson, A. L.

  Warily, Jace placed the bags into the cart.

  Her mama swung her attention back to him. “Well, you are a strong young man, aren’t you?’

  Faith cringed.

  She took it all back.

  She was totally, one hundred percent embarrassed of her mama. What did she think she was doing?

  “Uh . . .” Jace stammered, roughing one of those hands through his hair before he quickly said, “Have a nice day.”

  Then he was off, moving to the next checker’s line and quickly filling those bags, though Faith could feel his secreted glimpses, that fire hitting her from behind as she all but dragged her mama out the door and into the blistering heat.

  “What is wrong with you, Mama?” she scolded.

  “What?” she defended, completely innocent. “I was makin’ a simple observation, that’s all.”

  The trunk to their Camry popped open, and Faith started tossing the bags inside. “That he’s strong? That’s just . . . so weird and wrong and gross. You can’t say things like that.”

  “Not the observation I was talking about.”

  A frown pulled to her brow as she paused to look up at her mama, who was gazing down at her, some kind of strange smile lighting her face.

  That was when Faith felt it again.

  That feeling that she couldn’t put a finger on.

  Something that made her sweat and shake and her stomach do funny things. Her mama looked over Faith’s shoulder, and Faith couldn’t help but do the same and follow her line of sight.

  Jace was pushing a cart for an elderly woman who was parked in a handicap spot. He opened the driver’s door for her and helped her inside before he went to the back to load her groceries into the trunk.

  Faith’s throat suddenly felt too tight.

  Damned South Carolina heat.

  He looked their way. Longer this time. Those eyes glittering beneath the sun as he leaned over the back of the woman’s trunk, his head angled to peer their way.

  “That boy likes you, that’s the observation I was making.”

  Faith’s attention snapped back to her mother. “He does not.”

  “And you like him.”

  “Mama,” Faith defended, slamming their trunk shut. “I do not.”

  “Liar.”

  “You know, sometimes I think you’re the child and I’m the parent.”

  Her mother softened, some kind of lesson weaving its way into her voice. “That’s because you never let yourself have any fun. You’re too busy studying and watching sports with your dad.”

  A tease curved into the last.

  “Mama,” Faith huffed again, not even denying it.

  She looked back that way to the place where Jace had been, but he was already back inside the store.

  Something heavy filled her chest.

  “He’s trouble, Mama,” she whispered.

  Faith could feel the truth of it tremble all around her.

  Her mama reached out and touched her chin. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s just trying to figure out how to survive, just like the rest of us.”

  * * *

  “I need to get back home to study for finals,” Faith said, slipping off the side of Courtney’s bed and into her sandals.

  Her best friend looked up from where she was on her stomach flipping through one of the same trashy magazines Faith had been looking at earlier, except this one was giving them all kinds of sex tips.

  With the way Faith had blushed through the torture of Courtney reading them aloud, she was pretty sure she was never gonna need them, but Courtney was intent on trying a couple of them out on her boyfriend that night.

  It was definitely Faith’s cue to get the hell out of there.

  “But you just got here,” Courtney whined.

  “Two hours ago. And we have finals all next week. I need to close out this year strong.”

  Courtney pouted. “You’re no fun. It’s Friday. Stay and go to the party with me.”

  “I have to get home. Daddy is grillin’ steaks tonight. Besides, I don’t need to be within a ten-mile radius if you’re planning that.” Faith pointed at the drawing on the magazine, nose curled in mock disgust.

  Courtney laughed. “You’re such a prude. I swear, you should have been born in the fifties . . . or, better yet, the eighteen fifties with the way you’re so obsessed with all that old crap.”

  “Crap? Bite your tongue, woman.”

  “Oh, I’ll be biting something, all right.”

  “Ewww.”

  Just ewww.

  “I’m out of here,” Faith said, dipping down to smack a kiss to Courtney’s cheek. “Be good,” she told her.

  “Never.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  Faith slung her backpack onto her shoulder, leaving Courtney with a small wave as she headed out of her bedroom and down the hall.

  “Bye, Jenny!” she called from the kitchen to Courtney’s mother, who was watching television in the living room.

  “Bye, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want a ride home?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  She didn’t pause as she ducked out of the screen door and onto the back porch, quick to take the trail that led behind the neighborhood, behind a bunch of trees, and dumped her out right on the old dirt road.

  The area was pretty much deserted. Hardly a soul coming down this way.

  Which was probably the reason she was so drawn to it.

  She lifted her face toward the blazing rays of sun that poured out of the late afternoon sky, letting her eyes drift closed as she rambled down the road, feet shuffling through the pebbles that’d worked their way out of the packed dirt.

  She was grinning when she dropped her gaze back down, her step lighter as she started walking, swaying a bit, twirling once.

  She loved this time of year, the tease of summer break hanging in the distance. The thought of dipping her toes into the ocean and afternoons spent reading under a big tree.

  Birds flitted overhead, the air salty, tinged with the sea.

  She came to a stop at the end of the drive that led to the old house, which was the real reason she liked to walk home this way.

  Well, if you wanted to call it a house.

  It was a mansion, worn down as it was.

  A relic from another era, tucked back in the thickest, most gorgeous line of moss-covered oaks.

  There was something haunting about it, the way the massive, spindly trees closed out the light and hugged the plantation as if ghosts from the past hissed and swished like phantoms through the branches.

  Standing like a hedge of protection that lined the property.

  “What are you doing?”

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when the low voice hit her from out of nowhere, breathing over her from behind. A rush of chills skated her heated flesh.

  She whirled around, her hand pressed to her hammering heart.

  “What are you doin’ here?” she demanded, words ragged pants from her lungs. He’d scared her half to death.

  That terrifyingly beautiful boy cocked his head. It almost looked like a challenge.

  Her stomach dipped.

  Oh goodness, why’d he have to look that way?

  Like temptation and sin.

  Like she wanted to dip her fingers right in and experience exactly what that might taste like.

  “Walking home.” He tucked his big hands into the pockets of his pants. “Don’t you know that this road leads to nowhere?”

  She couldn’t tell if it was amusement or venom that fell from his tongue, and she was instantly picturing the dead end about a half mile up and the handful of old, rusted trailers dotted on the half-acre of overgrown land.

  The shock at finding him there drained from her, though now she itched, part of her having a good mind to go running for safety down the opposite direction of the road.

  The other part of her was pinned to the spot, enraptured by those eyes that were watching her.


  “What are you doing here?” he finally asked again because when she looked at the situation, she was the one who was out of place.

  “I just . . .” Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip. God, he was gonna think she was stupid.

  His brow furrowed in curiosity, and she saw something there that had her opening her mouth and letting her dumb little dreams come pouring out. “I always walk home from Courtney’s this way. I like to look at that house.”

  He peered over her shoulder, down that tunnel of trees that seemed to lead to another dimension. As if you could step right into another time. “You call that a house?”

  A shock of nervous laughter ripped from her. “I was just thinkin’ the same thing.” She turned a little, wonder gliding into her tone. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. A little scary. My cousin Joseph said it’s haunted.” She thought it was laughter that glided across his face when he said the last, trying to get a rise out of her.

  She slowly turned to look at it. “I think that’s what I like most about it. It’s like it just got left out here. Forgotten. I can only imagine the stories those walls could tell.”

  He moved to stand at her side. “No one lives there?”

  “No one has been there for a long time, though there was a family who used to come and stay for a bit in the summers. Guess they still own it, but the mother passed, so they haven’t been around in a long time. Heard a rumor they’re gettin’ behind on the taxes.”

  They stood there in the silence. The boy standing at her side as if he might appreciate the beauty as much as she did. Faith was sure she’d never been so uncomfortably comfortable.

  Maybe too comfortable because she was suddenly murmuring, “One day, I’m gonna own this house. Fix it up. Make it something spectacular. A hotel. A bed and breakfast, maybe. I don’t know.”

  He looked over at her. The threat of a tease wound up at one side of his mouth, twisting up her heart at the same time. “Why would you want to go and ruin the mystery by fixing it up and chasing away all the ghosts?”

  She felt the smile slide to her lips. “Oh, I’ll let them stay.”

  He laughed a low sound. It was quiet, but somehow, it still managed to shake the ground. “Of course, you will.”

  Then he reached out and snatched her hand.

  Fire flashed up her arm, this time so intense she couldn’t help but gasp out a shocked sound at the feel of it, his hand so big and warm where it was wrapped around hers.

  “Come on, let’s see if we can see any of those ghosts.”

  He started hauling her down the narrow drive, the trees hugging them from both sides, branches rustling and waving in the hot, summer wind.

  Alive.

  A low whistle coming from their leaves.

  “Jace, what are you doin’?”

  “Chasing ghosts.”

  “That’s a bad idea. We aren’t supposed to go up there.”

  He looked at her from over his shoulder, his face so gorgeous, eyes so bright. “What, are you scared?”

  Terrified.

  “No.”

  “Then hurry up.”

  “I’m wearing sandals.”

  She shrieked when he suddenly spun around and hoisted her up and tossed her onto his back.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist as if she’d done it a million times before, and her arms held fast to his neck.

  His hands clasped around the outsides of her thighs.

  Oh goodness.

  Her stomach twisted and pitched, and she bounced all over as he raced up the deserted driveway.

  “Jace.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  No. Not at all.

  He ducked down a fraction, laughing as he ran, something carefree winding with the whispers uttered from the trees.

  Faith held on for dear life, sure she was in some sort of mortal danger, because this boy was the only thing she could breathe.

  Her nose to the flesh of his neck, his deeply tanned skin a kiss of summer.

  She didn’t want to let go when they got to the base of the magnificent wraparound porch that was held up by massive pillars, but finally, she slipped down his back and onto her feet.

  “Whoa,” he said, awe striking him the same way as it did her.

  “Told you.”

  He stretched out his hand, taking hers again, his movements slowing as he carefully led them up the whitewashed steps that moaned from disuse.

  Silently, she followed him to the window that sat off to the side of the door, and they both pressed their faces to the glass, their hands cupped around their eyes so they could peer inside.

  It was like looking into the set of a movie. Antique furniture and ornate rugs and a staircase that may as well have been taken right out of Gone with the Wind.

  Not that it was her favorite book and movie, or anything.

  “Must be nice,” Jace suddenly whispered, an edge of that hostility winding back into his tone as he peeled himself away from the window.

  Faith did the same, squinting as she peered at him through the rays of sun that slanted onto the porch, fingers of light that rustled through his tawny hair. “What must be nice?”

  “Come on, Faith, look at all that stuff. And someone just left it. Like they have too much to even give a shit that they left all of this here. Hardly seems fair, does it?”

  She blinked at him, unable to keep up with his moods. They seemed to shift as quickly as the swing of the pendulum on the massive grandfather clock that rested against the far wall inside.

  Her voice was soft but strained with emphasis. “I don’t know anything about these people, Jace. I don’t know how hard they work or what they were given or what their situations are. Just like I don’t know all that much about your situation, but I’m not gonna make assumptions based on that, either.”

  He laughed.

  A biting sound that pinched her skin.

  “Oh, give it a rest, Faith. You know all you need to know about me.”

  He stepped back, the planks groaning beneath him, his arms stretched out to the sides as if he were daring her to look inside him.

  He was wearing a black-collared shirt, the same kind every employee at the grocery store had to wear.

  But his black pants?

  She could see where they’d been patched and mended and were a smidge too short for his long legs, and the soles of his black shoes were peeling up at the toes.

  His clothes were a bit tattered.

  His hair a bit too long.

  But none of those things were what she saw.

  The only thing she could recognize was a face that was far too striking.

  “The only thing I know is I can’t stop looking at you. Can’t stop thinking about you.” Her words scraped from her throat like a confession.

  Instantly, she wished she could take them back because they exposed her in a way that she wished they wouldn’t.

  Because his expression almost looked disgusted . . . almost horrified by what she had said.

  Her gaze fell away, to the ground at the base of the steps. “God, I’m stupid.”

  Her knees wobbled when his fingers were suddenly on her chin, urging her to look back his way. Those copper eyes searched hers, squinting as they hunted her face, looking for a secret she didn’t know she possessed.

  Her mouth went dry, and her heart hammered in the space between them.

  So hard.

  So fast.

  She could hardly breathe.

  “Stupid? What you are is innocent and sweet. So pretty that I can’t even think straight. You are beauty looking back at me.”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as a swarm of butterflies breached her stomach and flitted through her entire body. Tickling beneath the surface of her skin.

  His face pinched. “You’re a good girl, Faith. I can tell.”

  Embarrassment had her teeth clamping down painfully on her bottom lip. What he meant was her inexperience was showing, seeping thr
ough her flesh the same way those butterflies that were climbing right through did.

  She really was stupid.

  “Don’t do that,” he softly chided. His thumb moved to her lip that was tucked between her teeth, setting it free.

  The skin tingled from his touch.

  “Do what?” she whispered, her eyes wide and unsure.

  “Make me want to kiss you.”

  Faith moaned.

  Just from him saying it.

  From the feeling that gripped her everywhere, something heavy at her heart and throbbing at her center.

  “Fuck,” he said, inhaling sharply, as if he’d felt it.

  Her reaction to him.

  She couldn’t stop it.

  The rush of need that flooded her senses.

  She couldn’t stop the way she wanted to lean forward and fall right inside.

  Get lost in this boy.

  “Faith,” he muttered. A warning and a question. Half a second later, those big hands landed on her neck, gliding up to tangle in her hair.

  She gasped at the onslaught of sensation brought on by his touch.

  But she wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t even close to being prepared for the way she would feel when his mouth slanted over hers.

  His lips rough and smooth as they pressed against hers.

  Slowly at first.

  Giving and taking.

  Testing and tasting.

  Those butterflies shivered.

  He edged her back until she was pinned against the wall of the house.

  He pressed himself against her as he deepened the kiss, and she could feel him harden, every inch, his penis pressing against her belly.

  Oh God, she almost whimpered, nearly losing it when his tongue darted out and tangled with hers.

  Wet and demanding and full of heat.

  Lightheadedness swept through her head. Through her heart.

  Those butterflies took flight, lighting from her skin.

  Flapping all around them as he kissed her.

  Sweetly and somehow desperately.

  A kaleidoscope of color filled her mind. Touched her spirit. Her hands were shaking when they searched the lines and curves of his face, touching him, exploring him, making their way into his soft, soft hair.

  Feeling his shoulders.