Page 52 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“Seriously. You want to keep this all secretive—”

“There is no this.”

“And Drew is part of the club,” I explain, completely ignoring her remark. “What did you want me to do? Correct him? Tell him to shut up when normally I just laugh at all the guys’ ribbing over the women in bars? Then he’d really know there was something going on between us. And there is something going on between us,” I say, cutting her off before she can argue with me again. “So save yourself the argument.”

“You’re an arrogant asshole, you know that?” she spits out as she turns toward me, arms folded across her chest as if that will protect her from the truth she can’t seem to face.

“Maybe, but you’re fucking adorable when you’re angry at me.”

There’s a slight crack in her anger. A bit of a smile.

“And I kind of like that you were jealous.”

“I was not.”

“Ah, Kitty, but you were.” Another crack in her smile. “A woman only storms out when she’s jealous, and while the sight of your ass swaying as you stalked away was almost enough to let you keep being pissed, you needed to know the truth. There is no blonde in the bar waiting just for me, because she waits for anyone. There are no strings of women. There is no one else in another city.”

She stares at me. Searches to see if she believes me, and fuck . . . not only can the woman stand her ground, but she can take care of herself too. Tell me that’s not sexy as hell.

And frustrating all at the same time.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Scout.” There’s too much silence. Too much time for her to doubt and poke holes in what I said and bend it to match whatever insecurities are banging around inside of her.

“I just . . . you’re just . . .”

“I think you’re thinking how much you want to kiss me right now.”

“Too much,” she says at the same time I speak, and we both smile softly as it feels like the explosive wave of her temper may have just blown over.

“So you want to kiss me too much?” I say, combining our comments and garnering a huff from her.

“I don’t know what to do about you,” she finally says, softly and full of trepidation.

“Nothing, Scout. There’s nothing to do. There’s just us going out to have a good time. There’s just us figuring out if there’s anything here. There are no commitments. There’s no need for anyone to know anything. It’s just us getting to know each other and enjoying each other’s company.”

“What if I don’t want that?”

There’s that doubt again. The insecurity I don’t understand.

“You want this.”

It takes everything I have not to lean in and taste those bee-stung lips that tempt me every single time I look at them. Not to lean in and remind her of how it felt earlier when we’d kissed.

There’s just something about her I can’t let go, and I don’t even know her that well yet.

Because there are women who are good for a quick fuck. There are women you would fuck, but are better in the friend zone. And then there are women like Scout. They make you wonder, make you crave them, and drive you absolutely fucking crazy because you want them when you shouldn’t. They’re an enigma. Confusing, alluring, tempting, and fucking perfection.

I stare at her, with her ponytail whipping around her face on the downtown sidewalk, and have never wanted so badly to pull a woman against me and soothe the trouble in her eyes as I wait to hear her response.

You want this.

“Easton. The contract. My dad. It’s just—”

I look around for space. For privacy. For what I need to prove a point that she needs to feel, not just hear.

“Complicated? Messy? Welcome to life, Scout. Mine’s all of those and then some, and you don’t even know the half of it.”

Her smile tugs at me. Makes me want to take care of her when I’ve never wanted to take care of anyone in my life other than my mom.