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“I just thought, well, Kat said today… I mean—”
“Do you think I care if you go out with the boy?”
“No. Well, yes. Maybe.”
“You’re free to do as you please, within reason. If you prefer to spend your time bar-hopping, that’s entirely your decision. But understand this, every time you step foot out the door, you’re risking your life, your very soul. Is it really worth it to sip beer and hold hands with the boy?”
My mouth went bone dry. He was so pissed.
“Why do you keep calling him a boy? He’s twenty-one years old. He’s a grown man.”
A derisive noise, almost a snort, came from the shadow before me. I felt the touch of a shimmering flame he wore like a coat wherever he went.
“Mmm.” He inched into my space. I inched back, feeling like cornered prey. “And tell me, how do you know he’s a grown man?”
Words dripping with sarcasm. Malcolm was a good friend, possibly more than a good friend. Angry heat flushed my cheeks. “He’s…he just is!”
“‘He just is.’ Excellent definition. I’ll have to remember that.”
He mocked me. I was glad to have the darkness to hide the smug smile he surely wore and the humiliating flush crawling up my cheeks.
“Well, he’s agentleman, that’s for damn sure!” I snapped back.
He inched closer. Though my eyes had adjusted, I could only see his outline in the dim light.
“Really? Gentlemen molest women on their doorsteps without invitation nowadays? Interesting. I hadn’t realized the definition had changed so much over the decades.”
“What? You saw! You watched me when he—?” I broke off, shame and anger making my voice shake. “That’s why I went out on my own tonight. I don’t want a babysitter all the time!”
Closer still. The backs of my knees bumped the edge of the bed.
“Babysitter? Sweetheart, I’m not sure what mirror you’re looking in, but you are by no means a baby any more than that boy is a grown man.”
Sweetheart? He’d never called me an endearment, and though I caught the condescending tone, the possessiveness in his voice struck me near dumb.
“Well, what’s your definition of a grown man, since you know so much?”
Already breathless, I hoped he couldn’t sense my nerves fracturing on multiple levels. The overwhelming sensation of his nearness in the dark was heady, intoxicating. I felt dizzy, wanting to grasp his shoulders for support, but I didn’t dare touch him.
“A man,” he said, deep voice like velvet, warm breath caressing my cheek, “knows when to take action and when to be still, knows his strengths and his weaknesses, knows control when it is necessary and release when it is essential. And a man”—his voice had dropped deep, throaty, close to my ear—“knows when a woman wants him and how to please her.”
Two words popped into my head, and before I could possibly consider the consequences, the challenge shot from my mouth.
“Prove it.”
Jude crushed me onto the bed before I could blink, his glorious, hard body caging me in. A large hand hooked behind my knee, bending it as he fitted his body over mine. He pressed lower, his hard bulge pushing into the vee of my jeans.
God!Very hard. I froze.
Long fingers spread into my hair, gently tugging so the column of my throat arched for him. I made a breathy sound as he scraped his stubbled jaw along the soft curve of my neck, trailing warm lips back over the rough abrasion. He tilted my head straight again, grinding against my pussy in one slow movement.
“Ah.” A helpless pant escaped my lips.
If I could see his face, he would probably be smiling. I was boneless, mindless beneath him.
I bit my lip to keep any other embarrassing noises from escaping, as if that might help. His hand at my knee slid up along my thigh to my hip, massaging gently. Even through my jeans, his touch seared me to the skin.
“Let go, Genevieve.” I still held my bottom lip tightly between my teeth. “Open for me.”
