by Meghan March
Justine’s eyes widen but there’s no protest from her lips, and even a slight nod.
She wants it too. I know she does. Because I’m right there with her.
I keep my eyes on hers as I hook a finger in the material of her panties at each hip and draw them down. Sweet fucking heaven—that’s what I reveal. A tiny dark strip of hair and bare pussy lips are before me.
“You’re so fucking pretty.” I glance up to meet her eyes. “Right down to your tight little pussy.”
She likes the dirty talk. I could tell when she was rubbing against me and my words sent her over the edge. Well, she’ll get plenty of it from me because it turns me on just as much.
I lower my mouth and waste no time getting that first taste by sweeping my tongue between her lips.
Sweet. Fucking. Heaven. She’s tart and tangy and everything I wanted her to be and more. I know I should start slow and take my time, but the taste of her goes straight to my head. I devour.
Justine’s quiet moans and cries are the only incentive I need to keep going. I’m going to make this so good for her that she’ll never be able to think about her pussy without remembering how good it felt with my mouth on her.
I’m going to ruin her for other men. No one will ever make her come as hard as I will.
I move my hand to slide a finger inside her and the muscles clamp down on me. A second finger has her writhing against my mouth, and I wrap my lips around her clit and suck. Her moans quiet, and I look up to see Justine holding a pillow over her mouth to silence the sound.
I keep going, sucking, licking, tonguing, and fingering her until her legs tense and a muted cry reaches my ears. Her inner muscles convulse around my fingers, and I don’t stop until her fingers curl into my hair and lift my head.
Justine’s wide eyes are hazy with pleasure, and I love knowing I did that. I want to be the only man who can do that for her.
When did I decide I was keeping her?
Shit, does the answer to that question really matter? Because Justine’s not the kind of woman you can decide to keep if she doesn’t want to be kept. My future—well-planned out not so very long ago—is now as hazy as her eyes. I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with my life, but I know Justine has specific plans for hers.
I push up from between her legs, keeping my eyes on hers as I lean forward and kiss her. Against her lips I ask, “Do you like how you taste, baby? Because I think you taste amazing.”
She doesn’t reply, only jams her fingers into my hair again and yanks me closer, taking the lead. The kiss lasts for long minutes until she pulls back. My cock is throbbing, and there’s nothing I want to do more than bury it inside her right now.
But Justine jerks away and slides out from under me. “I have to go. I can’t do this. We have to stop.”
I grab her hand as she stumbles to her feet, stalling her hasty exit. “Can’t do what? We just did.”
Justine shakes her head. “We have to stop. This can’t happen. I can’t afford for this to happen.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she’s full of shit. “This is happening, whether you can afford for it to happen or not. You can’t imagine how bad I want to make you come again. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.”
She squeezes her eyes shut as she turns away, tugging at the hold I have on her hand.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
She turns back, face blank. “You don’t have a choice.”
There’s something in her eyes I can’t read, and as much as I want to drag her back into my bed and keep her there all night, I don’t want to do it fighting her every step of the way. I’ve been chasing her for over two years, and she’s pushed me away at every opportunity. I thought things would change. I thought we’d found level ground, but she’s still pushing me away.
Frustration mounts and I drop her hand. “You need to realize you can only push someone away so many times before they stop coming back.”
“I never asked you to keep coming back.” Justine’s words are quietly final as she slips out of my room through the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a creak of the hinges.
Maybe she didn’t ask me to, but that has never stopped me. Am I really going to let her push me away and not chase her this time?
And what did she mean, she can’t afford for this to happen? What does she have to lose?
My mind works overtime as I lie in bed, alone. She lost her scholarship. I’m almost positive she didn’t take a job at the strip club. She must have gotten student loans . . . but if she didn’t, then how the hell is she paying for school? Her job at the business school library can’t possibly cover the tuition costs, and based on her reaction about her car and what she said about getting lucky to find a cheap place to live, I know she’s not rolling in cash.
So, what the hell is left?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Justine
I’m up early. The house is quiet, but I make my way downstairs anyway. I need to talk to Justice Grant again. I can’t wait to get this out in the open, and yet I’ve never dreaded having a conversation more. What is he going to say? Is he going to be furious?
As I make my way to the kitchen, the rich scent of coffee hits my nose. Someone’s up, and I’m guessing it’s not Ryker.
I follow the smell and find Justice Grant sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen island, sipping his coffee with a newspaper in front of him. He looks up when he hears my footsteps.
“Good morning, Justine. Did you sleep well?”
The honest answer to that question is yes and no. Yes, I slept well because I had an orgasm to end all orgasms, but no, because my sleep was plagued with vivid dreams about someone breaking into my house and what would have happened if I hadn’t left Ryker’s room last night.
“Just fine.” It’s the only answer I can give him.
“Good, I’m glad. Join me for a cup of coffee? I imagine Ryker will be up fairly soon. He doesn’t sleep late. Never has.”
And there goes the mental excuse I’ve always attributed to why he stood me up that morning after the bar. I assumed he was too drunk and hung over and just slept too long, but given the cryptic answers about not being able to tell me why he couldn’t be there . . . I know it has to be something else.
“Thank you. I’d love some coffee.”
Justice Grant moves from his stool and strides to the cupboard. Once he has the mug, I hold out a hand. “I can do that, sir. There’s no need to wait on me.”
“You’re a guest in my home.”
Once I have the mug before me, with milk and a dash of sugar, I take the seat beside Justice Grant, guilt pooling in my belly about what happened last night, making the coffee unappealing.
I need to tell him something. I can’t believe I let last night happen.
Wrapping my hand around my mug, I squeeze before looking over at him. My stomach drops to my feet but I open my mouth and push the words out anyway. “I think we might need to talk about Ryker.”
Justice Grant’s eyebrows furrow together and I pause, gathering my words to explain . . . somehow. I open my mouth to continue when Ryker walks into the room.
My heart lurches into my throat. Shit.
“Morning, Dad. Justine. Can you be ready to leave in a half hour?”
Memories of last night batter me, and I can’t look him in the eye. What we did. What he said. His father is next to me. I try to push the images away, but only partially succeed.
“Good morning. You want coffee?” Justice Grant replies.
“Yeah, I’ll grab it.” Ryker looks to me, and I know he’s waiting for an answer to the question he asked.
“Yeah, sure. I can be ready in ten, actually.” I have an extra pair of jeans and T-shirt shoved in my backpack, and there isn’t much else I need to do other than throw my hair into a messy bun and put on some eyeliner and mascara.
“Sounds good. I need to grab a few things and we can get moving.”
He nods at me, and I squeeze my mug tighter and stand. “I’ll be back in a few then.”
I know rushing off isn’t exactly the boldest move, especially leaving Justice Grant wondering what the hell I was going to say, but I have no idea what else to do. I need to pull myself together and figure out exactly how I’m going to face Ryker, and what I’m going to say to his dad.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ryker
Awkward silence fills the car as we wait for a train to pass by, and I turn to Justine.
“Are you ever going to look me in the eye again? Or explain why the hell you can’t afford for something to happen between us?”
Her backpack lays on the floor at her feet, and her hands fidget in her lap. Her gaze darts toward me when I speak, but doesn’t stay.
“Do we really need to have this conversation now?”
No woman has ever frustrated me this much. “You can’t bolt from the car like I’m sure you will as soon as I park, so yeah. Now’s a great time.”
Justine’s cell phone buzzes in the pocket of her backpack, and her hands go for it immediately.
“Hello?”
The man on the other end is a loud talker, so it’s not hard to hear him. “This is Officer Crawford from Campus Safety. We have a suspect in custody for the break-in last night.”
“For real? Who? Why? Did you find out why?”
“The suspect hasn’t admitted to anything yet, so I can’t confirm, but we wanted to let you know as a courtesy. Maintenance will be installing a new door and dead bolt today, so you shouldn’t have any more problems.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the call. That’s great.”
“We’ll let you know if we get more information out of the suspect. Have a good day, Ms. Porter.”
She hangs up and stuffs her phone back in the pocket of her backpack. “At least I know I can go home today. That’s good news.”
I look at her with disbelief. “Are you shitting me? You’re going back to that rattrap of an apartment? The university shouldn’t even be able to rent those out. They should be condemned.”
Justine crosses her arms over her body, a mulish look casting over her features. “It’s where I live. It might not be up to your standards, but not everyone can be as picky. You heard him, he said they had a suspect in custody, so it’s not like I’m going to have any more problems.”
I shove a hand through my hair and stare at her. “A suspect, Justine. You’re in frigging law school. You know damn well the person they picked up might not be the one who did it. And there have been multiple break-ins. It might not have been the same person for each of them. The fact that they’ve got someone in custody doesn’t make that place any safer than it was last night when your door was kicked in.”
The gates lift from the train track, and I shift the car back into drive.
“I’m going home.”
“It’s not safe. Do you own a gun? Because you’re going to need one living there.”
Her gaze jerks to me. Finally. “You can’t have a gun on campus.”
“Then what are you going to do the next time someone kicks your door in and you happen to be inside? Campus Safety isn’t going to get there quickly enough to do a damn thing if some guy wants to rape and murder you.”
She sucks in a harsh breath. “Thanks a lot for putting that out in the universe, like an asshole. Besides, nothing is going to happen.”
“Three break-ins since the semester started is just ridiculous. You can’t stay there.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stares me down. “Not your business.”
I pull up to another red light and turn and meet her glare. “I fucking care about you, so I’m making it my business. You think my dad can’t get that place shut down and force the issue?”
Her dark eyes blaze hot. “You think I can afford to live somewhere else by myself? I live on a budget. Now, I have no scholarship. I only have what I’ve worked my ass off to save and a tiny inheritance. My choices are severely limited.”
“Then why didn’t you get a damn roommate?”
“Because my last roommate screwed me over by bailing halfway through the semester and not paying her bills! Everyone I trust already has a place to live and a roommate! I’m not going to spend my last year of law school couch surfing when I could have my own place. It may not be glamorous, but at least it’s quiet and it’s mine.”
“Then how the hell can you even afford to still be in school?”
Justine’s eyes go wide and her mouth shuts so abruptly, her teeth click together.
“You didn’t go to another strip club after the Vu. Did you?”
She looks away, suddenly fascinated by what’s going on outside her window, shutting me out.
The light changes, and I take the roundabout and dodge traffic before pulling into the parking garage next to the law school. Justine still hasn’t replied when I find a spot on the top level.
“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”
Her gaze drops to the backpack she’s clutching in her lap, her shoulders hunched.
“Will you even look at me?”
She fumbles for the door handle and yanks it open. I follow suit, not about to let her walk away from this.
She’s already near the trunk when I step in her path. “Justine, stop. Just fucking talk to me. I want to help. Let me fucking help.”
It’s like she’s completely shut down. She won’t look at me, and it’s driving me nuts. Every time she blew me off before, she did it with a direct stare, and I could always read her eyes. Now, I’ve got nothing.
I lift my hand and cup her chin before she can sidestep me. Her dark gaze is confused and shaken. “Let me help,” I repeat. “You don’t have to be so damn strong all the time.”
She closes her eyes for a moment before reopening them and focusing on me. “I can’t do this with you. Not here. Not now. I need to get to class.”
Dropping my hand, I shake my head. “Because that’s all that matters to you, isn’t it? Your grades and your degree. Do you care about anything else? Anyone else?”
Those dark eyes flash with what looks like a sheen of tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. Justine hefts her backpack again and strides away toward the stairs.
What a fucking mess of a morning.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Justine
Class starts in seven minutes, and I’m in the bathroom like I’m some schoolgirl instead of months away from graduating with a law degree. I splash my face with cold water to snap me out of it. Thank God for waterproof eyeliner and mascara.
The door creaks open, and just like freaking high school, the one girl I don’t want to see walks in. Kristy Horner.
“Wow. You’ve looked better.”
“Thanks a lot.” I grab a handful of the paper towel and dab my face dry.
“He’s not worth crying over. Trust me, I know.”
I shoot her a what the hell are you talking about look. “I’m not crying over anyone.”
She leans against the wall and studies me. “Right. And three people haven’t told me they saw you arguing in the parking garage with Ryker this morning. If you want to keep your private life private, I suggest you don’t have a throwdown in public.”
“Thanks for the advice.” I toss the paper towels in the trash and grab my backpack off the counter.
“I’m just telling you this to save you some heartache down the line. Ryker’s mother is old money, and she’s not going to want her son with . . . someone like you. And while Ryker might seem like such a rebellious badass, he’s still living on the gravy train, and he’s not going to risk it by taking you home to Mommy and Daddy.”
I don’t know what possessed me to speak, but the words are out before I can call them back. “He took me home last night for drinks with his dad, so I guess that proves your theory wrong.”
Kristy jerks back like I slapped her. “He took you home. To his parents’ house?”<
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“Justice Grant’s cognac is pretty dang good. He didn’t even mind that I didn’t have a clue how to drink it properly.”
Kristy’s eyes narrow to slits. “He’s a liar and a user. He’ll throw you away long before we ever make it to graduation. I’d bet my GPA on it.”
What a bitch. I straighten my shoulders and stare her down. “Like he threw you away? Bitter much? I wouldn’t go betting your GPA on something you clearly don’t understand.”
“Get ready to do a lot more crying in the bathroom then. You’re not nearly as special as you think you are.”
I force a smug smile to my lips. “Maybe not, but apparently Ryker thinks I am.”
Her lips flatten into a hard line. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
I leave the bathroom wondering what the hell got into me. Why did I rile up Kristy? She’s just going to spread rumors about everything I just said far and wide across campus.
When I slip into Advocacy, the one class I don’t have with Ryker, students are flipping casebooks open and taking notes on the first PowerPoint slide, even though the lecture hasn’t started. Kristy lowers herself into the seat ahead of me, not bothering to look at me this time. Well, that’s a positive change.
When Professor Alexander takes the lectern and begins the lecture, my fingers don’t move as fast over the keyboard, because I’m stuck on how I’m supposed to respond to Ryker’s question this morning about how I’m paying for law school.
He’s not going to let it go.
And I can’t tell him.
I still have absolutely no idea what to do when class is dismissed and my sketchy notes stare back at me from the screen. The last thing I need to do is start getting distracted. Keep your eye on the prize, Justine.
Maybe I just need more caffeine. I’ve got a half hour between classes, so I head down to the café to get a shot of espresso. Everyone else seems convinced that coffee can solve the world’s problems, so I’m willing to give it a try.