Ryker
Whatever Justine and I have going, I’m not letting some slick bartender get in my way. The kiss is instinctive and when I pull back, her eyes are wide and soft. I like that look on her.
I don’t spare another glance at Caruthers as I slide in the booth across from Justine and pull out my laptop. He’s already forgotten.
“Well, uh, maybe I’ll see you around. Feel free to stop by Ziggy’s anytime, and I’ll make you a drink on the house.” His words are clearly directed at Justine.
The guy has balls the size of boulders if he’s got no problem hitting on her right in front of me, especially after I just laid my claim in a very obvious way. But I’m not going to waste any more time on him. More than anything, I’m curious to see how she’s going to reply. It’s a test of sorts, given by the universe—one that I’m content to sit back and observe.
“Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but like I said, I don’t spend a lot of time at bars.”
“Then maybe I’ll see you around here again. Have a good one.” Caruthers hefts his backpack higher and gives me a challenging nod that I return out of habit.
I watch Justine as he leaves. Her eyes don’t follow him, which means that even if he wanted to be competition, he isn’t. No, her eyes are on me.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” I reply, even though I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“You kissed me. Like some territorial marking. In public.” Her words are coming in spurts.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Dropping my highlighter between the pages of my casebook, I cross my arms and meet her confused gaze. “Because I wanted to.”
She pushes a thick wave of dark hair over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving mine. “That’s not a reason.”
“It’s all the reason I need.”
“But—”
I cut her off before she can protest. “You could’ve said yes to getting a drink with him, but you didn’t. You know why that is?”
“I don’t know . . . that’s not my scene.”
Uncrossing my arms, I lean forward, my elbows on either side of my casebook. “That might be true, but you said no because we’ve got something happening between us, and you’re going to ride it out just like I am.”
She picks up a highlighter, gripping it tightly in her fist. “We’re just studying. That’s all.”
“We both know that’s bullshit.” I pull my laptop out and slide it onto the table between us. “But feel free to keep lying to yourself, and I’ll keep kissing you anytime I want. Deal? Now, what do you want to start with?”
Justine releases a sound that’s close to a growl and buries her hands in her hair. Instead of tearing it out in frustration, she twists it up into a messy bun and shoves a pen in to hold it.
It takes a spot on the list of the top ten sexiest things I’ve ever seen a woman do.
She scrubs both hands over her face, and I can’t help but like the way I unsettle her. That’s exactly what I want.
I wait while she stares at the pile of casebooks next to her. “Professional Responsibility. It’s my least favorite, so I want to get it out of the way first.”
“Sounds good.”
We both flip open our casebooks and work through the reading, talking about the cases and typing out notes for class. Every time she readjusts her hair or bites her lip, I’m reminded how badly I want to get my mouth on her again. Everywhere. But at the same time, I’m strangely turned on by how hard she focuses. This is study date number two, and I understand how Justine has kept her grades so high. She’s a machine, and totally relentless in her analysis and memorization.
I was right before—her brain is just as sexy as the way she fills out the V-neck she’s wearing. I want to see her in a dress, or even a skirt like she wore that night at the bar. I want a chance to explore her body and her brain.
My mind is wandering when I’m supposed to be finishing up reading this case, but I’m out of time. Justine looks up and cracks her neck before she starts rattling off the points she thinks Babcock will cover in class.
My fingers pound the keys on my laptop as I try to get down all the details, but Justine’s stomach growls louder than my typing.
“Did you have dinner already? I’m frigging starving.”
She shakes her head, and her tone is wry when she says, “But I’ve got a mac-and-cheese bowl waiting for me at home.”
I don’t think before I reply. “That’s not real food. You need protein. Vegetables. You know? Let’s finish up Trusts and Estates and go grab something.”
Justine slaps her casebook closed. “I beg to differ that it’s not real food, because mac-and-cheese bowls have been a major part of my diet for the last six years. Cheap, quick, and easy. What’s not to like?”
“Babe, there’s nothing cheap, quick, or easy about you. If you were . . . well, we both know the last two years would’ve gone differently.”
Her eyes go wide at my words, which are nothing but the truth. When she says nothing in reply, I realize I’ve knocked her off-balance, which works for me just fine.
Changing the subject, I ask, “How about Chinese? Panda House isn’t far.”
Her eyes light up when I mention the student favorite of all the Chinese restaurants in town, but I wonder if she’ll actually accept.
“Panda House?” Excitement tinges her tone. “I guess that would be okay. But work first, and then food.”
The buzz of victory rises through me. And that’s how it’s done.
I keep my face expressionless as I nod and we both crack open our Trust and Estates books. We continue to study in companionable silence, but inside I’m fucking thrilled.
I’m finally taking Justine on a real date, whether she realizes it or not.