Page 16 of Jessie's Girl
“Yeah, he can’t do this,” says my ten-year-old Judas. “But he’s the best at pancakes,” she adds, giving me a thumbs up.
I grunt, pushing to my feet, not appeased by the bone she just lobbed at my head. “It’s time you got ready for bed, Sweet Pea. Tell India good night, then hit the shower and brush your teeth.” I narrow my eyes on her. “And that means don’t just let the water run while you do whatever you do in there. Get. In. The. Shower.”
“Okay, okay,” she mutters. “Thanks for coming over for Pizza Night, India.” A big grin transforms her I-don’t-want-a-shower frown, and she hugs India once more. “I had so much fun! You need to come again next week.”
“We’ll see.” India tugs on the end of her braid. “Thanks for inviting me. And I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
“Okay.” She nods, still beaming. “Night!”
Rose disappears down the hall, and a few moments later the bathroom door bangs shut. I sigh. Someday she’s going to learn how to quietly shut a door. Someday. I just hope my doorjambs can survive the abuse in the meantime.
“She’s wonderful,” India murmurs, staring after Rose. Shaking her head, she stands, stretching her arms high over her head and rolling to her toes.
Goddammit.
I rip my too-obsessed gaze away, training it on the oil-stained box of pizza. But I can’t unsee the lift of her breasts or that sliver of smooth, chestnut skin as the hem of her shirt rises above her jeans. I can’t unhear that low half-moan, half-sigh that escapes her just before she lowers her arms to her sides and her feet back to the floor.
That satisfied-yet-needy sound sizzles down my spine and wraps around my cock in a long, hard, fucking ruthless stroke. It’s the cousin to the one she emitted when I rubbed her pussy over my cock. Sweat pops under my arms and fine pricks of sensation dance across my scalp and down the nape of my neck.
“I should be going. Work in the morning,” she says from behind me.
I close my eyes, grateful for the reprieve and the excuse to get her out of my house. Having her here… I don’t trust myself. Guilt and loyalty aren’t enough to keep my thoughts to myself. It won’t take much for my hands to cross that line, too.
“Yeah, let me walk you to the door.” I pick up the box of pizza, and after a quick detour to the kitchen to dump it, I wait in the living room entryway while she gathers her jacket and purse. “Thanks for hanging tonight. Rose really enjoyed it.”
“I did, too.” She smiles and it’s small, rueful. “I have to confess, I wanted to turn her down. I thought this would be too… awkward. But it turned out okay.”
She shrugs into the hip-length leather jacket, and I tell myself that it doesn’t accentuate the sensual dip of her waist, the roundness of those perfect hips, or the lush perfection of her ass.
Goddamn, she really needs to go.
Pivoting, I head toward the foyer and front door. The scene of our two-year-old crime.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, I followed up on the other student who was teasing Rose.” I skid to a halt, whipping around at the same time. India collides with me, unprepared for my abrupt about-face. Her palms slap to my chest, and I lock down the tortured groan climbing my throat like a cat scaling a scratching post. “Oh damn. Sorry.” She drops her hands, rubbing her palms along her denim-covered thighs before she frowns and halts the gesture. “Anyway, I called her parents in and we had a long talk about bullying. I gave her detention for two days and she has to write Rose an apology letter.”
Warmth surges through me, gratitude lodging in my throat. “Thank you.” My lips twist into a deprecating, half-smile. “It seems like I’m saying that to you often lately.”
She tilts her head to the side, her penny-colored eyes thoughtful as she studies me. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve fantasized about her staring at my cock exactly like this as she tries to decide how she’s going to swallow me down. Dream Me and Real Me don’t give a fuck. Just as long as she lets me inside that mind-fuck of a mouth.
“Did you think I forgot?” she asks.
I hesitate. In each of our interactions, I’ve offended her. That’s not my intention tonight, especially after we managed to get along the last few hours. But I can’t lie to her either. “You have a lot of things on your plate,” I hedge instead. “You’re responsible for hundreds of kids, not just mine.”
“We make time for what’s important to us.”
I slowly nod. “That’s true. And I—” Breaking off, I drag a hand through my hair and expel a long, hard breath. “I know I apologized earlier, but I want to reiterate it. I’m sorry for being a dick. I don’t want you to only be Rose’s assistant principal; I want you to be her friend. She really likes you, and yeah, I lost my sister, but she lost her mother. And I can’t relate to that like you can. If I’m honest…” I shake my head, not proud of my feelings and knee-jerk reaction outside the school. Not proud of how I lashed out at India like a spoiled kid instead of a grown-ass man. “If I’m honest, I was a little jealous that she felt comfortable going to you, talking to you, when she couldn’t do that with me.”
“Like I told you, that’s only because she didn’t want to make you upset or sad,” she insists softly, fiercely. Lifting her arm, she settles her palm on my chest, and I stop myself from cuffing her wrist and removing her hand from me so she doesn’t feel the rapid thudding of my heart. So she doesn’t notice the effect her nearness has on my body. “She loves you, and in her own way was trying to protect you.”
“I get that. Now,” I add, and after another hesitation, I give in and cover her hand with mine.
Unbidden, I drop my gaze to my chest. Savor the sight of my fingers and palm fully enveloping hers. This is how we’d be in bed. I’d completely shelter her petite frame, leaving no part of her untouched, uncovered, unprotected. Scalding lust races through my veins, licking at that control I pride myself on. My gut clenches, and I fight the need simultaneously filling me and leaving me a throbbing, aching mess. Heat pounds in my cock, echoing my heartbeat—fast, hard, and unceasing.
Let her go. That’s what I should do. What I fucking need to do. But my fingers won’t cooperate, instead squeezing, imprisoning her palm against my chest.
Her eyes, so rich, so beautiful, darken. With surprise, yes, but also with the same emotion roaring through me like a wild, untamed beast. Lust. Hunger. Need.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I order, the command a step above guttural. “Close your eyes. Do it.”
