“Hey come on. She invited me.”
Jack looks at me, and even through the mist, his eyes are piercing and deadly as they meet mine. “Is that true?”
“No,” I say without hesitation, my pulse pounding so hard in my neck the room grows fuzzy.
Guard up, jaw tight, Jack turns his focus back to Caleb. Caleb snorts and says, “I’m a minor. Lay one hand on me and you’ll be in a shitload of trouble, pal.”
I’ve never seen Jack wound so tight. His gaze is focused, targeted, with Caleb smack-dab in the crosshairs. “Lay one hand on her and same goes for you, pal.”
Caleb stands there for a moment, sizing up his opponent like he’s actually thinking about taking him on. The guy clearly isn’t too bright. Then, as if deciding it’s a suicide mission, he backs down, and lowers his gaze. “Fine. I’m fucking leaving. No piece of ass is worth the trouble.”
Jack’s eyes narrow in anger, and his fingers curl into fists like something has been unleashed inside him. I don’t think he’s going to attack Caleb—as much as he looks like he wants to. The fight wouldn’t be fair, and if there is one thing I know about Jack, he’s a just and ethical man—a real rule follower. He’s a man of his word, and when he makes a promise, he sticks to it.
“Don’t go near her again. Ever,” he seethes. “I’ll be watching and if you do, I won’t let you walk away in one piece next time.”
Jack turns to the side to let Caleb pass. Caleb looks like he’s about to pee his pants, but once he clears Jack, he seems to gather an ounce of bravado, and shoots back with, “What is she to you anyway?”
I slide the humid glass panel open, and steam billows into the room. Jack has his back to me—clearly glaring at Caleb—but I’m sure I heard him say, “Everything,” under his breath as Caleb rushes down the stairs.
“Thanks, Jack,” I say and fight off a tremble. I hate to think what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up. “I guess you were right about him.”
His body is rigid, his back hard, and I wish I could wrap my arms around him, hold him tight and help loosen him up a bit. “I’m right about a lot of things,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I say in total agreement. I trust Jack, trust and take everything he says to heart.
“I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.”
I grab a towel off the hook and wrap myself in it. “You can turn around. I’m covered.”
He turns, and takes in the big fluffy towel as I knot it over my breasts. I draw in a slow breath, everything about this man seducing my senses.
“Where’s your phone?” He scrubs his face like he’s in total agony. I gesture to the bathroom counter. He picks it up and swipes a big finger over the screen. God, how I want those fingers on my body, deep between my legs. My clit throbs and I squeeze my thighs together, desperate for an orgasm.
“I’m punching my number in.” Rich, intense eyes lock on mine as he breathes in, the scent of my vanilla soap strong in the room. “If you ever find yourself in trouble and need anything, don’t hesitate to call. If you’re in a situation where you can’t call, text with the word ‘vanilla.’ It will be inconspicuous to others, but I’ll know you need me.”
My heart thumps at how sweet he is. “You’re giving me a safe word?”
He angles his head, gives me a dark, warning look that I totally recognize. He hates the thought of me with anyone else, as much as I hate the thought of him with some other woman.
“What do you know about safe words, Layla?”
I grin. “Oh, not much. Just what I’ve read. But when I’m with you, you can bet you’ll never hear the word vanilla come out of my mouth,” I say. His turbulent gaze alerts me to the fact that he gets the meaning behind my words—when it comes to him, vanilla is the last thing I want. I look him over; the need to hand myself to him, let him take charge of my body is so intense it’s almost painful. I put my palm on his bare chest, feel the strength of his heartbeat beneath my fingers.
“You don’t need to say it, just text it when you need something,” he says.
“There is something I need, Jack.”
“What…what do you need?” he asks, his eyes half closed, like he’s in total agony. God, he’s so intense, so unlike the boring guys from my school.
“I need you.” His lids flash open and I give him a small smile as I shake my wet hair out. It falls over my back, and my breath comes out in a low hush when I say, “But you already know that.”
Desire clouds his eyes. “You can’t have me.”
“Not yet, but soon,” I say, playing by society’s rules for a little bit longer. “While I’m waiting, I just need something to help me get through the next few weeks.” I drop my towel and expose my naked, quivering body.
His gaze rakes over me. Hungry. Ravenous. Dangerous. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.
“And I’m all yours.”
His eyes glaze, like he’s forgotten all rational thought, but then a laugh sounds outside my window. A splash follows the sound as some other drunken cop lands in the pool. “Layla, fuck…” The sound pulls him back and he inches away.
I step up to him again, push against his thigh and he holds his hands up, palms out. “I can’t touch you. I won’t.”
He’s such a good man and that’s one of the reasons I love him. “Then don’t,” I say, never wanting to get him into any kind of trouble. “Don’t touch me, Jack.
