Jeez, he is so freaking good looking, so rough around the edges, it makes me all jittery inside. He’s taller than every other guy at the precinct, and has an athletic, rock-hard body that any criminal would be a fool to challenge. But I want to challenge him. Oh yeah, just once I want to push him until he loses that hard-earned control and acts on the heat between us. The sexual tension is off the charts, so powerful and volatile I can’t believe the other adults can’t feel it. Then again, maybe they can. Maybe they all know how we feel about each other, but don’t much care because Jack is a good man, and a good cop, who wouldn’t do anything illegal.
But I won’t always be seventeen.
My body warms as his gaze rakes over me, his brilliant blue eyes holding me in place, keeping me captive. I stare back, and hold my own against him like I always do as he closes the distance between us. He stands over me, crowds me, and I toy with the button on my blouse, another little thing I do to tease him. I know it works because his gaze drops to my fingers, the muscles along his jaw rippling as he clenches his teeth hard. He dips his head, his mouth so close to mine, it’s all I can do not to go up on my toes and press my lips to his. Instead, I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip, leaving a streak of moisture that invites him in for a taste.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks.
Poking the bear?
Then again, maybe he’s talking about the alcohol, and not my sexual teasing. But I can’t help myself around him. From the second I hit puberty a few years ago, I’ve wanted Jack in my arms and in my bed. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve laid between the sheets, running my hands over my body, and pretending they were his. There’s sixteen years difference between us, but I’m a minor until next month, so those years might as well be a chasm. As soon as I turn eighteen and move into my dorm room at University of Texas at San Antonio—a college close to home so I can keep an eye on my mom—I don’t think the gap will come into play at all. Then again, this is Dad’s best friend, and if I want him in my bed, I’m going to have to do more than play with the button on my shirt.
“It’s just a couple of coolers,” I say to him. “My friends and I are going to sip them and watch a movie inside.”
His nostrils flare and his gaze drops to my mouth again, fixates on it. “You’re too young to drink.”
“Are you going to tell on me?” I ask, and coil my hair around my finger, playing the innocent. The truth is I am innocent. Sure, I’ve made out with guys, but I’m saving myself for Jack. Not that it’s hard to say no to the fumbling idiots my age. But for my first time, I want a real man to take me. A man who knows his way around a woman’s body, not some stupid jock who hits the finish line a second after the gun goes off.
I don’t know this firsthand, of course, but my best friend Luanne isn’t saving herself for anyone. She sleeps with a different guy every weekend and is well aware of my obsession with Jack. While she thinks I should get a few fucks under my belt so I’ll know how to please a guy like him once I finally get him into my bed, I disagree. I want him to be my first, and I have a feeling that once I give him my virginity, it will bring us closer, and keep us together.
Patience…that’s all I need.
“I’m no snitch,” he says.
“I never thought you were, but if you’re so worried about me having a few drinks, maybe you’d like to discipline me yourself.”
“Layla...” he murmurs, his jaw doing that clenching and unclenching thing again.
“I suppose you could always put me over your knee and give me a good hard spanking for my disobedience.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs, and ignoring his no touch rule, his hand moves, his knuckles brushing against mine and sending heat straight to my sex. It moistens and clenches, aching for his attention, something hard to grip on to. His big, broad frame is blocking mine and no one can see us. I step closer, push my body against his and feel his huge cock swelling in his swim trunks.
It thrills me and urges me on. I move against him and he puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me. “We can’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “We’ve been over this.”
“I know,” I say. “But when we can, it’s going to be amazing.”
“Layla,” he grumbles and steps back from me. The bottles in my backpack clink and he looks over his shoulder, then back at me. “No driving?”
“Of course not.”
“You know alcohol impairs—”
“Jack,” I begin and put my hand on his chest. He sucks in a sharp breath, and every muscle in his body goes rigid as I splay my fingers. I resist the urge to glance down, to see that other muscle that always grows hard from my touch.
“No touching,” he says, but his voice belies his actions as he takes
