I'd known him nearly my whole life.

My father's business associate, the man who put fear in everyone just by looking at them.

Now here he was, sitting at our dining room table, the cigar in his mouth causing a cloud of smoke to fill the small room. He had a square-cut glass of bourbon in front of him, and although my father was speaking to him about the business, Rye watched me.

Rye Jaxon.

Even the sound of his name did something to me. He might've been a business partner with my father, their illegal dealings bringing in loads of money—so much they couldn't even count it—but Rye was the muscle of the two.

He was big, strong, and tall. He was a beast, and all others took in his size and knew to give him a wide girth.

“Jess, sweetheart, I need you to go to your room for a minute.”

Although I was nineteen and knew the illegal operations my father and Rye did in order to make money, my father still wanted to protect me. Maybe he was naive in thinking I didn't know what he really did, how he sold drugs and guns, how he did underground business to make a living.

But I knew all of it, heard all the rumors. I’d even seen some of it go down.

I stood but kept my focus on Rye. My father was speaking to him about something, but Rye had his attention right on me.

He lifted his glass and took a long drink of liquor, his gaze locked on mine over the rim of the cup. I felt my body heat rise but suddenly chill at the same time, goose bumps forming along my flesh.

I shouldn't want him—not just because he was my father's business associate, not because he was older than me, but because he was dangerous.

I left and went to my room, shutting the door softly and leaning against it. I felt my nipples harden, pushing against the material of my bra and shirt. I was also wet between my thighs, an instant reaction I had whenever I was around him.

What I needed was to get myself under control because there was no way anything whatsoever was going to happen between us. Even if I threw myself at him, begged him to take my virginity, I knew Rye would never touch me.

But then what was with the looks he gave me? What was with the possessiveness I felt from him as he watched me?

Maybe I’m imagining those looks, that feeling?

No, that wasn’t something I could ever imagine.

I knew that I wanted Rye to be my first, wanted to feel his rough, strong hands on my body, holding me down, making me take all of him. This might be in my head, a fantasy of mine, but it was something I wasn’t going to let go of.

And Rye was who I wanted, who I’d have even if I had to tell him, show him how ready I was for him.

* * *

I left Kash's house, my thoughts on Jessa. Hell, I thought about her constantly. She was too good for me, too sweet and innocent, too vulnerable. I was a dirty bastard for desiring her, for imagining the filthy things I wanted to do with her.

She'd been living with her mother until last year, when she’d turned eighteen. But even before she’d lived with Kash permanently, she’d come to visit regularly. I never saw her as anything more than the daughter of my business partner.

But something had changed in the last year. At eighteen Jessa moved in with her father. Her mother had remarried and moved out of state. Jessa hadn't wanted to go with them, and so she stayed here.

I remember that day. She was no longer a child but a woman. She’d just graduated high school, her body all curves. But I told myself not to even think those thoughts of her.

She was far too young for me, nearly two decades younger, to be exact. But it wasn't the age difference so much that bothered me, but the fact that my life was not something I wanted her involved in, even if she was inadvertently because of her father.

Kash also tried to shield her, protect her from the work we did. Maybe it wasn't a living to be proud of, but it was who we were, what we did, and there was no going around it. The best we could do was make sure Jessa was protected.

I entered the bar Kash and I owned, walked past the customers, and headed to my office. The bar was a front, as were the other three businesses we owned: a strip club, a small corner grocery store, and a bar that was on the other side of town. They were to make things go smoothly with the law, to pay our taxes and stay under the radar.

The illegal gun business was where our money came from, and where we got all our connections.

Once my office door was shut, I moved to my desk and sat behind it. I busied myself planning the gun drop for later this week, something to try and get my mind off the one woman who invaded my thoughts constantly.

Kash and I were criminals in every sense of the word. I never tried to downplay it or lie about that fact. But we didn't hurt people unless they tried to do harm to us or the ones under our protection. We didn’t terrorize people, didn’t bully them or use illicit violence just because. We made money, albeit the illegal way.

We didn't deal guns to kids, didn't try to make an innocent into a criminal. We might not be law-abiding citizens, but when someone needed our help, we were there, no matter who they were, no matter what lifestyle they chose to have.

Kash might have thought Jessa didn't know what we did, how we brought in money. But I was fully aware that she knew how we made a living. Even before she lived with her father, I could see in her eyes the realization and truth of what she knew. She might never have brought it up to us, but she was smart as fuck.

When the drop-off was secure, I disconnected the call, tossed my cell on the table, and leaned back in the chair. I sat there for long seconds just staring at the wall, wanting to go to her, wanting to hold Jessa.

I'd never been a man who thought I could find love, thought I'd ever settle down. But I wanted that with Jessa. I wanted her to be mine in all ways. I wanted to show her that underneath everything I was a good man.

Or maybe I was a delusional bastard in thinking I could have her. Maybe I needed to get my shit straight and come to the realization that Jessa would never be mine. She could do better than me, could find a man who toed the line, who followed the rules.

I growled low, the sound involuntary. Just thinking about her with somebody else, imagining some bastard touching her body, making her feel good, pissed me the fuck off.

No. No one else would have her but me.