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I was only trying to give her advice. I hadn’t meant to use that phrase—good girl—it just slipped out on its own. I hoped it’d go unnoticed. But a tiny quirk in her eyebrow tipped me off that she’d heard it. And the glint in her eye told me she might’ve liked it, and wanted to hear it again.
For fuck’s sake. She’s Johnny’s daughter.Stop flirting and make some small talk.
I cleared my throat. “So uh, how do you like living in Las Vegas?”
She gave me the answer that sounded like it’d been recited a dozen times to the other random adults in her life. While we made chit-chat, I made an effort to keep my eyes off her. I followed the game instead, though if you had asked me which line was on the ice or who had the puck, I couldn’t tell you. I was too busy fighting off baser urges.
“So Johnny tells me you go to UNLV?”
“Yep, yep,” she said, her head bobbing.
“How are your classes going?”
She bobbed her head again. “Good, good.”
“I can tell you’re sick of everyone asking that,” I said, nudging her shoulder with mine.
She laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not that.”
I knew she was only lying for my sake, though. I knew I was boring the hell out of her. Which Ishould’vebeen perfectly fine with, because when it came to your best friend’s smoking hot nineteen-year-old daughter, boring was actuallygreat. Boring meant no flirting, no stolen peeks, no glancing touches—no getting into trouble.
Yet there was a part of myself I couldn’t control. A part that didn’t carewhosedaughter she was. A woman this stunning? Hell no, I didn’t want to bore her. I wanted to chat her up, make her laugh. Flirt with her. I wanted to impress her, charm her, and I didn’t want to stop until her dress and panties laid in a pile on my floor, and my head was between her soft thighs, tonguing her steamy—
Whoa, what?I thought, shaking my head as if I could toss the sinful image right out of my mind.Get it together, man.
I pulled up my suit jacket sleeve and glanced at my watch again.
Come on, Johnny, where the fuck are you?
A dry, achy lump began to swell in my throat. I felt like I was dying of thirst. And the longer I went without looking at Isabelle, the thirstier I got.
When the referee blew the whistle and play stopped, I couldn’t fight it any longer. I turned to Isabelle. She turned to me. Our eyes met and I drank her in, like parched soil soaking up the first rain after a long drought.
Why couldn’t I look away? Why was my stomach still twisted into knots? Why did an electric charge still linger in the air between us?
“Damn,” I said, my eyes locked on hers.Whywas I suddenly talking, speaking words I’d never intended to say? “I bet the boys won’t leave you alone, huh? You must have a lot of admirers.”
She giggled. “Oh, Rust, you havenoidea.”
“Trust me, I do.” I said, grazing her bare shoulder with my knuckles. Her flesh was even softer than I’d imagined—she was as silky as a rose petal. “I’m totally blown away, Isabelle.”
“Yeah? By what?” she asked curiously, twirling her finger in a lock of hair.
I couldn’t help it anymore. I surrendered to the terrible craving to sweep my eyes up and down her body again. A forbidden thrill rushed over me. It felt sowrong,but she looked sogood,it somehow made everything right again.
“You,” I growled. “You’re a beautiful young woman now.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She only stared at me, waiting, her pupils darkening. Slowly, I bent down, and the space that remained between us started to vanish, inch by inch, as if I were being pulled toward her by some magnetic force.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?I screamed at myself.NO NO NO—
But it was too late. I couldn’t stop now. I was fully under her spell. One look at her pretty mouth, and Ineededto feel those young, glistening lips pressed against mine. Just as I leaned in, though, a booming voice called from behind—
“HEY, BIG FELLA!”
Shit.
That’s Johnny.
