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But Stephan didn’t keep alcohol in the house, and I knew from inadvertently eavesdropping that she’d gotten it from Georgia.
“Georgia gave you liquor?” She didn’t seem surprised I knew, and instead nodded. “What did you get drunk off of?” The protective side of me rose up instantly. I wanted to keep her safe, shelter her. I didn’t want her to experience the nasty aftereffects of what drinking did to people. But then again, I was being a hypocrite because here I was with a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the ground beside me.
“Peach schnapps,” she said instantly, not lying to me. That pleased me. But I was aggravated that she had been drinking, not because she was underage, not because she’d done it right under our noses. I was frustrated because I wanted to protect her even if that was from herself.
I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my place to scold her, to tell her the dangers of drinking, how it brought your inhibitions down and made you vulnerable.
I didn’t want to tell her any of that because my inhibitions were down right now, and the only thing I wanted to say was that I loved her. The only thing I wanted to do was bring her close to me and show her with my body how much I cared for her.
Instead, I stood there and stared at her, the porch light off, the glow from the moon making this silvery light wash across her. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut. I should have just gone inside, locked myself in my room, and jerked off to the thought of her, because that’s all I’d ever be able to do where Ivy was concerned.
But instead I found my possessiveness and jealousy rising up as I thought about her around drunken assholes.
“I overheard Georgia remind you about a party.” I reached down and picked up the bottle of whiskey, taking a drink from it as I watched her over the rim. “I don’t have to remind you how unsafe those are, how there are little fuckers that will try and get in your pants because they’ll see you’re drinking and that your inhibitions are down.”
She didn’t respond right away, but I could assume she was confused by my sudden interrogation. I’d always kept my distance when it came to her personal life, and it had been easy as hell … until she’d turned eighteen … until I started to fucking want her.
“You listened to my conversation?” was her reply, her voice soft and sweet, drowsy and laced with the alcohol she’d consumed.
“I overheard.”
A thick moment of silence stretched between us.
“I didn’t tell her I’d go.” She glanced out at the back yard, leaning against the banister so her upper body was almost parallel with the ground. “It’s not really my scene, but you know Georgia,” she said and looked at me then. “When she has her mind set on something…”
I shouldn’t have stared at her ass. I shouldn’t have pictured myself running my hands over those perfect globes, like the roundness of a peach. Fuck, I wanted to run my tongue between the crease in the center, wanted to spread the cheeks and stare at her perfectly pink pussy.
My mouth watered. My cock hardened.
Fuck.
I shifted on my feet, trying to hide the fact I was getting harder than fucking steel.
“But maybe she’s right,” Ivy said, glancing at the back yard again. “I’m nineteen and should celebrate like I’m young and not some old lady not wanting to leave the house.” She shrugged, as if talking to herself. Ivy pushed herself up, but I could see she was still unsteady on her feet, and when she went to push away from the banister, she almost lost her balance.
I was right there next to her a second later, my hand on her hip, steadying her, looking down at her as she glanced up at me with wide eyes. My fingers were curled tightly around her tiny tucked-in waist, my heart pounding, the scent of her getting me drunker than any liquor ever could.
I knew what I was about to ask was not my business. I was crossing lines as I held on to her, looked into her eyes. I couldn’t help myself. “I bet all the guys at school are after you, aren’t they, Ivy?” My voice was low, the alcohol making it sound even more husky, my arousal thickening it. I was still hard, and I prayed like hell she didn’t glance down and see the way my jeans were tented.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could see the way her pulse was beating frantically at the base of her throat. She licked her lips, running her tongue along the bottom swell first and then bringing it up over the top.
