“I say,” Fox growled. “And I rather like the sound of ‘Summer Iseya.’”
Mm.
Summer shouldn’t like that so much.
And yet after so much denial, so much heaviness, after Fox had pushed him away so much...
It ached so brightly inside, for Fox to so openly want to claim Summer as his.
And with a laugh, Summer leaned into him, resting his hands against Fox’s chest. “Fox Hemlock might just mean I’m not the one with the weirdest name here anymore. But since when are you territorial?”
“Since the moment you walked back into my life,” Fox answered, then leaned down to seize Summer’s lips in a kiss.
Suddenly they were tumbling through the door of Summer’s new office—and slamming it behind them, before Fox had him pinned up against it, arms over his head, wrists clasped. Fox always seemed to need that—some measure of control, something to leave Summer whimpering and writhing and completely submitting of his own free will, and God did Summer melt now as Fox skimmed his free hand down his body, flicked over his nipple through his shirt, nipped along his jaw in hard biting lines.
“I think,” Fox whispered against his skin, “that we need to christen your desk.”
Summer let out a breathless laugh. “We’ve christened half the rest of the school grounds. Might as well.”
As if he didn’t need it just as much.
As if he and Fox hadn’t been nearly ravenous for each other, from the moment a tow truck had dragged them back to Albin to the day, last week, when Fox had taken Summer out to dinner and quietly slipped that ring across the table without a word, the shining platinum itself a question that didn’t need to be asked but that Summer answered with an enthusiastic yes.
As enthusiastic as his moans, as his spread legs, as Fox pulled him away from the door and pushed him down over the desk, bent and spread for his beloved, slacks dragged down around his ankles—though he caught them before they fell, at first, fishing in his pocket until he found another one of those conveniently portable little tubules of lube, flicking it over his shoulder between two fingers.
And earning a sharp, deliciously stinging smack across the ass for it, hips lifting in a rough jerk as he groaned with the pleasure of the burn.
“Again?” Fox asked with a touch of exasperation, plucking the tube from Summer’s fingers, while Summer rocked forward with a gasp, grinding his already-hard cock against the desk, trailing into a moan.
“Like I said,” he whispered, curling his fingers against the desk, bracing himself for the onslaught—of fingers, of pleasure, of Fox’s cock, of Fox’s love. “I never give up on hope.”
And he would never give up on Fox.
Not through this pleasure, as their bodies crashed together and Fox filled him in that way that only Fox could, leaving Summer clawing at the desk, begging for more, spreading himself and so willingly open and vulnerable to the man he loved.
And not through whatever pains may come.
He and Fox Iseya had taught each other how to be brave.
And no matter what...
Summer would always, always fight to love and be loved, exactly as he was and exactly as Fox was—no more, no less. Love that accepted each other in all their foibles and follies and fears and fantasies.
Love that settled inside them, found its home, made them home...
...just like that.
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Acknowledgments
The first people I told about The Call for this book were the group of author friends I call the Fight Club. They were the first to be happy for me; the first to encourage me when I had doubts; the first to shower me with unreserved excitement because we always believe in celebrating each others’ successes.
It’s been that way for years now, and it’s strange to realize that as I write this. That for years we’ve been holding each other together, lifting each other up, keeping each other on track, motivating each other through the down moments, celebrating our successes.
No matter where we go, we never leave each other behind.
And I hope we never do.
I <3 y’all.
And I’m grateful for you.
Jude rides a motorcycle, kisses hard and gives Iris
the perfect distraction from her mess of a life. But come
September, Iris is still determined to get out of this
zero-stoplight town—unless Jude can give her a reason to stay.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Girl Next Door
by New York Times bestselling author Chelsea M. Cameron.
Chapter One
Iris
I smelled the ocean before I saw it. I took the long way back; the scenic route. Anything to prolong the inevitable. Turning my car onto a back road, I sighed as I rounded a corner and drank in the view of blue waves crashing over the rocky shore, coating the rocks and turning them dark. This was my home, whether I wanted to admit it or not. I’d started my life here in Salty Cove, and now I was back.
All too soon, I reached the turn for my parents’ road. My road now. It took everything in me not to start crying when I pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. Time to face my new reality.
“We’re here,” I said to the snoring gray lump in a crate in the backseat. “Can you please wake up and comfort me right now?”
With that, my Weimaraner, Dolly Parton, raised her head and blinked her sweet blue eyes at me.
“Thank you.”
I got out of the car and went into the back to let her out of the crate. She jumped out and shook herself before sniffing the air.
“I know, you can actually smell the ocean here. It’s not covered up by city smell. At least
