CHAPTER ONE

My head slowly hit the pillow as Jackson followed on top of me, his body pressing against mine. I smiled at him and he smiled back as we began kissing. I loved his kisses �" they were soft and addictive, initiating on my lips and then tracing the sides of my neck. We were both definitely enjoying this. At one point, he pulled back and laid next to me, occasionally kissing my arm and neck.

"That feels nice," I whispered softly, embracing his gentle touch. I turned to look at him, and his hazelnut-colored eyes stared back into mine, connecting together like an electrical force. 

"Yeah...but you know what would be better?" he asked. 

"What?" I snuggled myself into his chest, breathing in the sweet scent of his cologne. He smelled of the ocean, as if he had just been out swimming and arrived in my bedroom just a few short moments later.

"...If we could do this all the time." 

My smiled faded. "Jackson, you know that that can't happen," I said sternly. His smile faded along with mine, and I could tell I had upset him. He looked at me, his eyes filled with something I just could not understand.

"Courtney--" 

"Jackson, please. We're having a good time, right? Don't spoil it."

"Well, maybe I'm tired of having a 'good time'. Maybe I want more." He spoke quietly, and the look on his face was more serious than I have ever seen it. 

"Why? Why do you want more?" I asked him, frustrated. 

"What do you mean why? I'm getting tired of this." 

"I thought being friends with benefits was what we agreed to." The sound of my voice came out sounding low and harsh.

I looked at him, trying to detect the feeling he was so very well hiding. Jackson wasn't the type of person to speak openly about his emotions; He'd always been so quiet and mysterious. I could never tell what was going through his head. But I was hooked; The fact I wasn't supposed to have him made me want him even more. He was my forbidden fruit, and I needed him.

"That's ridiculous, Courtney."

"How is that ridiculous? You seemed fine with it before." 

"That's because I didn't know I'd fall in love with you."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I stared at him like a confused puppy, unable to regain my composure. I couldn't help but wonder what Jackson saw in me; I was short, my eyes were dull compared to his sparkling ones, and my long brown hair was wavy and unmanageable. Plus, he couldn't be with me, even if he really wanted to. 

"Now that's ridiculous. Love, Jackson? It's not remotely possible. You know I have a boyfriend." I said. He sat up on one elbow, giving me that intense look yet again.

He sighed. "Love isn't an option. You don't choose it. It chooses you. When are you going to tell him about us? He treats you like crap, and you still date him."

"What Michael doesn't know won't hurt him."

Jackson's eyes flickered past me, like he was looking somewhere else, like we were hardly still in the same room. He seemed like he was about to say something, but his mouth didn't move nor open. Then, he shifted his gaze back to me and shook his head.

"You're too optimistic."

"A little optimism never hurt anybody. Now, come here." I leaned forward, pushing my body against his and kissing him lightly. In my mind, I pushed away the trouble I was getting myself into. Michael would definitely be hurt if I told him what was going on between Jackson and I, so that was out of the question. But at the same time, I didn't want to hide it anymore.

I've been seeing Jackson for a little over three months now, ever since Michael and I started getting into fights. Michael was harsh; He swore at me, making me cry harder than I've cried in a long time. That's where Jackson came in. I was in low spirits, dragging myself along day by day, and he noticed. He noticed I'd been sad, and he wanted to help me. I was very vulnerable, which I'm nearly positive he noticed too, because he jumped at the chance to get me in bed every time I'd get in an argument with Michael.

But Jackson had a gentle side as well. He would sit and hold me while I cried and blubbered wildly about things Michael had said to me. He was beginning to soften up, and I didn't necessarily like that change. Instead of hot make-out sessions behind closed doors, he had transformed into someone with feelings, which was the complete opposite of Michael. Jackson didn't want to do anything except give me the attention I needed; It wasn't about sex anymore. It was about love. 

My name is Courtney Ridge.
And this is my story. 
Of love, of lust, and of everything in between.