Page 63 of The Risk Taker
“Wait.” I pull out my phone and take a picture of her. “There, now if you try anything I don’t like, I’ll have your mug shot.”
She blinks, surprised and I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her out the door. The night air is warm, sticky, but it’s a break from the heat and bodies inside. I breathe deeply as the waves laps against the sand in the distance.
“I’m Justin, by the way.”
“Violet.”
Pretty, just like her.
The music becomes faint as we remove our shoes and step onto the sand. She exhales and runs the warm grains between her painted toes. Painted toes. Fuck, that’s sexy, too.
Don’t go there, dude.
“Can I ask a question?”
Her long curls bounce around her face and she purses her pouty, heart-shaped mouth as her big blue eyes meet mine. “You can ask, but it doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
Beautiful and funny.
A dangerous combination.
She doesn’t know I’m the guy who danced for her, so I need to word my question carefully. “What were you doing at the bar? It doesn’t seem like it’s your kind of scene.”
“It’s not really. I work with those girls. We’re not close, so I guess that’s how they thought I should celebrate my twenty-first birthday.”
“I’ve only known you for five minutes and I would never throw you a party like that.”
“No? Then what would you do?” she asks.
I take in her skirt, the sleeveless silk blouse she has tucked into the hem, and say, “Quiet dinner, walk on the beach.”
“You can tell all that from looking at me.”
“Gut feeling.” I’m not about to tell her I’m a psychology professor and study behavior and mind. Her behavior tonight told me everything I needed to know. She’s a good girl, and I need to stay away.
She arches a brow. “You’re pretty intuitive.”
“You’re beautiful.” Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that. Fucking just slipped out. I don’t want her to think I’m coming on to her. She turns from me, and looks at the water. I’m pretty sure she’s about to run the other way. I’m a stranger, eight years older than her, and I’m probably coming off like a stalker.
“Race you to the water,” she says, and takes off. “Last one there has to go skinny dipping.”
Skinny dipping?
I stand still for a moment, processing that as her skirt flies around her backside and she darts to the waves. She’s not the kind of girl to go skinny-dipping, of that I’m certain. My brain kicks in and I chase after her. When I catch her, she’s laughing and breathless.
Jesus fuck, the sound goes straight through me, and zaps what little control I seem to have around her. I touch her face, my thumb sweeping across her cheek. Her laugh dies and her eyes go wide as they latch onto mine.
“Violet.”
“Yeah?”
“I really want to kiss you.”
A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”
I step into her, meshing my hardness with her softness. Sweet fuck, my cock grows another inch, and she gives a little gasp when she feels it. “Sorry,” I say, but somehow I’m not. I actually want her to know she’s beautiful, see what she does to me. I dip my head, and softly, lightly brush my lips over hers, not wanting to hurry the moment I might never have again.
A moan escapes her throat and I slide my hand to the back of her neck as I increase the pressure. I push my tongue in and we tangle. I catch the taste of the syrupy drink she’d been nursing, but it’s not nearly as sweet as her. I close my eyes, savor, enjoy, drown in her flowery scent and taste. I’m only half aware as her hands snake around my back, her questing fingers splaying, touching, exploring my body.