Out Of Line

by Jen McLaughlin

  Too bad I couldn’t have her.

  I opened my eyes and pulled out onto the road. I took my time on the ride there, taking as many back roads as possible for the short ride. This was the only period I got to feel her arms around me without feeling guilty as hell about it. The only occasion I was permitted to touch and be touched. If I had my way, we’d drive around all night long.

  But I didn’t.

  When I pulled up at my place, I killed the engine and sat there for a second, not moving. Interestingly enough, neither did she. As if by some unspoken agreement, we held each other. It wasn’t until a truck drove by that either one of us moved. She dropped her arms from around my waist and removed her helmet.

  I took mine off too and our gazes clashed.

  She was so beautifully off limits that it hurt. Her hair was sticking up, she had no makeup on, but she looked abso-fucking-lutely perfect. She licked her lips and didn’t drop my gaze. “Thank you for the helmet,” she said softly. So softly I almost didn’t hear her. “And the ride.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I said, my voice gruff.

  I slid off of the bike and offered her my hand. I should stop doing that. As a matter of fact, I should take her home right now, before I proved myself unworthy of trust—hers and her father’s. But sending her away now would only hurt her feelings, and the last thing I wanted to do was that. She would hate me once she found out who I really was.

  I didn’t want to hurry the inevitable along.

  She slid her fingers inside of mine, her fingers so small and dainty, and I held on tight. Right or wrong, I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to hold her close, cherish her, and continue to show her how fun life could be when you spend your time with the right person. I wanted to show her everything.

  “Why are you so quiet?” she asked, darting a quick look at me. “Is something wrong?”

  Shit. How long had I been quiet? “No, nothing’s wrong.” I led her up the walk toward my small studio apartment. “I’m just tired.”

  “Oh. Do you want to cancel?”

  Yes. “No.” I unlocked the door. “It’s nothing a little bit of coffee won’t help.”

  “No beer tonight?” She nudged my arm.

  “Not for the nineteen-year-old. Your father would kill me if he found out I was giving alcohol to a minor.”

  “You don’t know him and he doesn’t know you.” She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re safe.”

  My heart squeezed tight. “Not if he has security watching you like you said.” I hated this game. I hated lying. I hated not telling her I was the security watching her. “I’m not going to jail for supplying a minor with booze.”

  She huffed. “What’s the good of having a friend who is older than twenty-one if he won’t get me drunk?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m good at,” I said, stopping and slinging her over my shoulder. “I’m good for surfing, riding a bike, and carrying your cute little ass around.”

  She giggled and tried to squirm free, but I tightened my grip on her thighs. I liked her in this position. I had a great view. “Put me down!”

  “Nope.” I juggled her weight and my key, finally managing to open the door to my apartment without dropping her on her perfect little ass. “I’m keeping you forever. Tell your bodyguards that, nice and loud.”

  She snorted. “If they’re watching, they’ll come running.”

  “Then this is a good way to find out if they’re here. Play the part of damsel in distress properly.” I slapped her ass and stood on the threshold. “Call out for help, or I’ll smack you harder.”

  “Help!” she cried, her voice convincingly strained. “Someone, help me!”

  “Nice.” I slammed the door behind us and set her on her feet, even though I didn’t want to. She rushed to the window and peeked out. “You should get into acting.”

  “No one’s coming. I can’t believe it,” she said excitedly. “He actually trusted me enough to send me here alone.”

  Guilt slammed into me, hard and fast and merciless. “See? You were worried about nothing.”

  “Words cannot describe how happy I am right now that you offered to be my guinea pig.” She turned and flung herself at me, hugging me tight. “So I’ll show you instead.”

  My arms closed around her, and I held her close to my chest. I could feel her heart beating fast against mine, as if she’d just caught a huge wave and rode it through to the end. “Hey, now, it wasn’t exactly rocket science.”

  “Still.” She rested her cheek on the spot right above my heart. I forgot how short she was until times like this. She didn’t even reach my shoulders. “Now I know I can really relax. No one’s watching me. You have no idea how wonderful that sensation is. At home, I’d wake up and find security officers watching me sleep. As if a man was going to break in and ravish me in my sleep or something. I had no freedom. None. But now I do, and it’s fabulous.”

  “Your dad had people watch you sleep?”

  She averted her face. “Yes.”

  I swallowed hard. I hadn’t known that part. That went beyond loving parent and into loony-toon territory. “I’m sorry. That’s insane.”

  “Yeah, that’s my dad for you.” She lifted her head and smiled up at me, her eyes sparkling. “But I’m finally free.”

  She was so easily tricked. So gullible. And I was an ass for taking advantage of that innocence. My throat threatened to close up on me and kill me, right then and there in my own apartment. At this moment, I felt that it would have been a well-deserved death. “Right.”

  She pulled back a little bit, her hands resting on my shoulders, and looked up at me with those big blue eyes. If she kept looking at me as if I owned the sun, I would die trying. After holding my gaze for what seemed like an eternity, she rose up on her tiptoes and didn’t stop until her mouth was a scant inch or so from my ear.

  “So…since no one’s watching…”

  I tightened my grip on her. If she suggested we have wild, crazy sex on the balcony…I wouldn’t say no. I was too weak right now. “Yeah?”

  “How about that drink?”

  I swallowed a laugh. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed she didn’t want crazy balcony sex. “No way.”

  “We’ve quite clearly established there is no one watching. That was your excuse.”

  I dropped my hold on her and removed her hands from my shoulders. “You’re just using me for my age, aren’t you? Admit it.”

  “That and your bike.” She cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. “Plus, you surf. That’s nice too.”

  “I’m hurt.” I held my hand over my heart. “Really.”

  “You’re not bad on the eyes either, when you’re not being annoying. Unfortunately for you, that’s almost never.” She headed for my kitchen, tossing me a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Now show me where you keep the good stuff.”

  I entwined my hands behind my neck and followed her. Since when did I have to be the voice of reason when it came to drinking? I wasn’t old enough for this shit. Wasn’t old enough or responsible enough to slip into the role of responsible adult for her. And I didn’t want to. “You know you can’t drink.”

  “Says who?” She opened the fridge, grabbed two beers, and set them on the counter. “Everyone else on campus is drinking right now. You know it. I know it.”

  I dropped my hands and scowled at her. She had a point about everyone else drinking in college, but I still didn’t want to be the man who got the senator’s precious little girl drunk. That wasn’t on my job description. Then again, keeping her from having a drink or two wasn’t on it either. At least she was in a safe environment with me.

  I crossed my arms. “That’s not playing fair and you know it.”

  “Neither is acting like you’re my protector
. We’re friends.” She struggled with the beer, trying to open it. Her face turned red as she twisted as hard as she could, and she bit down on her lip. “How the hell do you open this thing?”

  I sighed and took it from her. With a simple twist, the beer was open. I held it out to her, but caught her gaze. “I still don’t like doing this.”

  “I know.”

  She rose to her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. She had to stop doing that shit to me. It wasn’t good for either one of us. Her soft lips teased me, and it took a hell of a lot more control than I thought I had to not turn my head and catch her lips with mine. It would be so easy to do.

  “Do you now?”

  She nodded, her lips brushing against my cheek. “But you need to get over yourself, open a beer, and come watch a movie with me.”

  With that, she dropped back to her feet and sashayed out of the kitchen, her hips swinging and her red hair looking way too enticing. Hell, she looked too damn touchable. My fingers twitched, and my whole body screamed at me to chase after her and claim those soft lips. To make her mine in every way.

  Yeah. Get over it.

  Easier said than done.

  I walked into the living room, my heart racing at light speed due to the fact I’d just kissed Finn. It was on the cheek, but still. It was a kiss. I tipped back another sip, cringing at the taste. Apparently, I didn’t like beer, but I was beyond caring. I wanted to relax and enjoy my new freedom, and who better to do it with than Finn, the one guy I trusted? The one guy who made me feel like I could trust him, and let go of all my doubts and fears. Let go of my suspicions even.

  He made me want to have fun. Be free.

  Be someone else entirely.

  Someone he could want like I wanted him.

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it. It was Dad. I ignored the call, then shot off a quick text telling him I couldn’t answer because I was in the library. I felt a little bit guilty at the lie…but really. He needed to back off.

  When Finn came into the living room, his beer pressed to his lips and his head tipped back, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he pinned me down with his penetrating stare. He flopped down next to me on the couch and rested his feet on the coffee table.

  “What now?” he asked, not looking at me. “Why are you staring me like that?”

  “I’m not staring at you. I was just watching you.”

  I averted my eyes, taking the chance to shove my phone back in my pocket, and inwardly cursed my heating cheeks. I used the time I needed to regain my composure after getting caught staring at him to survey his home. Everything looked way too fashionable, from the bamboo rug to the grey couch. And he had curtains. What kind of surfer dude cared about curtains?

  A neatly made, and huge, bed sat in the corner of the room. It had a light blue bedspread and the pillowcases matched. Opposite of the bed was the kitchen, and his black surfboard leaned up against the wall next to his bed. His perfectly ironed military uniform hung in the open closet, along with a ton of t-shirts and board shorts. On top of the closet rung, a shelf held a bunch of socks and boxers. It looked so neat and orderly. So unlike Finn.

  It looked like he even folded his socks. Who did that?

  “Did you decorate this place?” I turned back to him. He sat next to me, doing something on his phone. His brow was furrowed and his fingers flew over the screen. “It doesn’t feel like…you.”

  He threw a quick glance across his apartment and shoved his phone into his pocket. “No. It came furnished.”

  “Ah. That explains it.”

  “Explains what, exactly?” He looked over at me, his lips pursed.

  “It just doesn’t seem like the way you’d decorate your house. It’s too…girly.”

  He grinned. “Worried I’m hiding a wife somewhere in here?”

  “Maybe.” I stood up and crossed the room, stopping in front of his closet. I ran my hand over the crisp cotton sleeve of his shirt, my heart twisting at the thought of him wearing it in battle. “I forget sometimes that you’re in the Marines. Why don’t you live on base? Do you like it? Will you get sent overseas?”

  “Slow down, Ginger. I can’t keep up.” He stood up and approached me, stopping at an appropriate distance for friends. I couldn’t help wishing that for once he’d stop pushing me away and instead pull me closer. “I don’t live on base because I don’t want to. I hate base housing and hate the barracks even more. Yes, I like it.” He picked up a piece of my hair, toying with it. “And yes, I have gone on deployment before, but I haven’t fought yet.”

  When he rolled the piece of hair between his fingers, tugging gently, I shivered. As if he sensed it, his grip on my curl tightened, then he dropped it.

  I turned to him. “That doesn’t answer my question. Will you get sent over there any time soon?”

  I held my breath. God, please no. Just the idea of Finn in harm’s way was enough to make me want to hurl. What if he got injured or…no. I couldn’t finish that thought. Ever. He wouldn’t go over, and he would stay safe. The most dangerous things he would ever do would be surfing and riding his bike.

  “I suppose it’s likely. I’ve heard word of my unit possibly getting sent out sometime in the summer.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. He took another swig of his beer, so I did the same. The thought of him going to war was enough to drive me to drink anything. “So I guess anything is possible.”

  I swallowed hard. “I hope you don’t go.”

  “It’s part of the job.”

  “Still.”

  Our gazes latched, and for once he didn’t back off or turn away. “Don’t worry about me. If I do leave, you probably won’t even remember my name after a while.”

  I set my empty beer bottle down and smacked his arm as hard as I could. “Not remember you? What the hell is the matter with you? Of course I’ll remember you.” I shoved his shoulders, wanting to hurt him for insinuating I was so flaky I would forget all about him the second he left, but he simply raised a brow at me. “Of course I’ll care.”

  He finished his beer and set his down too. “No, you won’t. You’ll move on with your life and be fine. You’ll probably marry Cory and have little Ginger babies.”

  I smacked him again. Really hard. “You’re such a jerk.”

  “Stop hitting me.” He caught my wrist and narrowed his eyes at me. “And I never claimed not to be one, did I?”

  I tried to jerk free, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. “Good. Because you’re a big, fat, stupid jerk.”

  His jaw ticked. “What are we? Kindergartners? Resorting to name-calling? Should I call you a poopy-face now?” He released my wrist and slid his hand into my hair. “Tug on your hair and pretend I don’t like you?”

  I curled my free hand into his shirt and pulled him closer. “Go ahead.”

  “No.” But he did bury his hands even deeper into my hair, making my scalp tingle ever so slightly. And then he pulled. Gently. My stomach clenched with need.

  I licked my lips. “Why not?”

  “Because I’d rather do this.”

  He lowered his head, tenderly brushing his lips against mine. He kept the kiss so soft I barely felt it, yet it rocked me straight to my core. That something so little could feel so powerful should have scared me, but it didn’t. It made me want him even more because it felt so right. I wanted his real kiss. The one where he held nothing back and gave me the passion I so desired from him.

  “Carrie,” he sighed against my lips, his fingers tightening on my hair. “You’re killing me.”

  That gave me the courage to try for more. To get something more than a chaste peck on the lips from him. He’d taught me what desire was, and I wanted to learn more—with him.

  “Then let me help.”

&nb
sp; Rising up on tiptoes, I tried to catch his mouth again. Tried to get him to break his impervious self-control. But he pulled back without giving me a chance. His hands shook as he disengaged himself from my clinging hands, and he looked down at me with heated eyes.

  “You can’t help me with this,” he rasped. “I’ll go get you another beer. Stay here.”

  Without another word, he grabbed our empty bottles and headed off into the kitchen. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering slightly. I’d thought I had seen desire in his eyes before I tried to kiss him again. I could have sworn he wanted it as much as I did. Obviously, I’d been wrong. I kept throwing myself at him, and he didn’t even want me.

  I needed to stop being so freaking pathetic around him. And I really needed to stop melting into a tiny puddle on the floor every time he flexed his hot muscles at me and smiled. He only wanted to be friends, and if that’s all I could get, then so be it. I would have to take it.

  He came back into the room, a full beer in each hand and his mouth pressed tight. “Look, I’m—”

  I held up my hand, knowing exactly where he was going. “I know. You don’t need to say another thing. Seriously.”

  “You’re upset,” he said flatly.

  “I’m not. We’re friends, nothing more.”

  He hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to be more. Believe me. I just can’t.”

  “I know. You’ve told me.” I took the beer from him and took a long, hard drink. “Stop worrying so much. It was fun. It doesn’t mean we’re anything more than friends, right?”

  His knuckles went white on his beer. “Right.”

  “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” I sat down and reclined on the couch. Hopefully I didn’t look like I wanted to scream and tear my hair out right now. Because I did. “So, what are we watching?”

  He stood there for a second, looking at me. Then he crossed the room and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. Much farther than he had last time. The message was clear. He didn’t want any more accidental kissing to happen.