Out Of Line (9 page)

“That and your bike.” She cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. “Plus, you surf. That’s nice too.”

“I’m hurt.” I held my hand over my heart. “Really.”

“You’re not bad on the eyes either, when you’re not being annoying. Unfortunately for you, that’s almost never.” She headed for my kitchen, tossing me a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Now show me where you keep the good stuff.”

I entwined my hands behind my neck and followed her. Since when did I have to be the voice of reason when it came to drinking? I wasn’t old enough for this shit. Wasn’t old enough or responsible enough to slip into the role of responsible adult for her. And I didn’t want to. “You know you can’t drink.”

“Says who?” She opened the fridge, grabbed two beers, and set them on the counter. “Everyone else on campus is drinking right now. You know it. I know it.”

I dropped my hands and scowled at her. She had a point about everyone else drinking in college, but I still didn’t want to be the man who got the senator’s precious little girl drunk. That wasn’t on my job description. Then again, keeping her from having a drink or two wasn’t on it either. At least she was in a safe environment with me.

I crossed my arms. “That’s not playing fair and you know it.”

“Neither is acting like you’re my protector. We’re
friends
.” She struggled with the beer, trying to open it. Her face turned red as she twisted as hard as she could, and she bit down on her lip. “How the hell do you open this thing?”

I sighed and took it from her. With a simple twist, the beer was open. I held it out to her, but caught her gaze. “I still don’t like doing this.”

“I know.”

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. She had to stop doing that shit to me. It wasn’t good for either one of us. Her soft lips teased me, and it took a hell of a lot more control than I thought I had to not turn my head and catch her lips with mine. It would be so easy to do.

“Do you now?”

She nodded, her lips brushing against my cheek. “But you need to get over yourself, open a beer, and come watch a movie with me.”

With that, she dropped back to her feet and sashayed out of the kitchen, her hips swinging and her red hair looking way too enticing. Hell,
she
looked too damn touchable. My fingers twitched, and my whole body screamed at me to chase after her and claim those soft lips. To make her mine in every way.

Yeah. Get over it.

Easier said than done.

I walked into the living room, my heart racing at light speed due to the fact I’d just kissed Finn. It was on the cheek, but still. It was a kiss. I tipped back another sip, cringing at the taste. Apparently, I didn’t like beer, but I was beyond caring. I wanted to relax and enjoy my new freedom, and who better to do it with than Finn, the one guy I trusted? The one guy who made me feel like I could trust him, and let go of all my doubts and fears. Let go of my suspicions even.

He made me want to have fun. Be free.

Be someone else entirely.

Someone he could want like I wanted him.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it. It was Dad. I ignored the call, then shot off a quick text telling him I couldn’t answer because I was in the library. I felt a little bit guilty at the lie…but really. He needed to back off.

When Finn came into the living room, his beer pressed to his lips and his head tipped back, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he pinned me down with his penetrating stare. He flopped down next to me on the couch and rested his feet on the coffee table.

“What now?” he asked, not looking at me. “Why are you staring me like that?”

“I’m not staring at you. I was just watching you.”

I averted my eyes, taking the chance to shove my phone back in my pocket, and inwardly cursed my heating cheeks. I used the time I needed to regain my composure after getting caught staring at him to survey his home. Everything looked way too fashionable, from the bamboo rug to the grey couch. And he had curtains. What kind of surfer dude cared about curtains?

A neatly made, and
huge
, bed sat in the corner of the room. It had a light blue bedspread and the pillowcases matched. Opposite of the bed was the kitchen, and his black surfboard leaned up against the wall next to his bed. His perfectly ironed military uniform hung in the open closet, along with a ton of t-shirts and board shorts. On top of the closet rung, a shelf held a bunch of socks and boxers. It looked so neat and orderly. So unlike Finn.

It looked like he even folded his
socks
. Who did that?

“Did you decorate this place?” I turned back to him. He sat next to me, doing something on his phone. His brow was furrowed and his fingers flew over the screen. “It doesn’t feel like…you.”

He threw a quick glance across his apartment and shoved his phone into his pocket. “No. It came furnished.”

“Ah. That explains it.”

“Explains what, exactly?” He looked over at me, his lips pursed.

“It just doesn’t seem like the way you’d decorate your house. It’s too…girly.”

He grinned. “Worried I’m hiding a wife somewhere in here?”

“Maybe.” I stood up and crossed the room, stopping in front of his closet. I ran my hand over the crisp cotton sleeve of his shirt, my heart twisting at the thought of him wearing it in battle. “I forget sometimes that you’re in the Marines. Why don’t you live on base? Do you like it? Will you get sent overseas?”

“Slow down, Ginger. I can’t keep up.” He stood up and approached me, stopping at an appropriate distance for friends. I couldn’t help wishing that for once he’d stop pushing me away and instead pull me closer. “I don’t live on base because I don’t want to. I hate base housing and hate the barracks even more. Yes, I like it.” He picked up a piece of my hair, toying with it. “And yes, I have gone on deployment before, but I haven’t fought yet.”

When he rolled the piece of hair between his fingers, tugging gently, I shivered. As if he sensed it, his grip on my curl tightened, then he dropped it.

I turned to him. “That doesn’t answer my question. Will you get sent over there any time soon?”

I held my breath. God, please no. Just the idea of Finn in harm’s way was enough to make me want to hurl. What if he got injured or…no. I couldn’t finish that thought. Ever. He wouldn’t go over, and he would stay safe. The most dangerous things he would ever do would be surfing and riding his bike.

“I suppose it’s likely. I’ve heard word of my unit possibly getting sent out sometime in the summer.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. He took another swig of his beer, so I did the same. The thought of him going to war was enough to drive me to drink
anything
. “So I guess anything is possible.”

I swallowed hard. “I hope you don’t go.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“Still.”

Our gazes latched, and for once he didn’t back off or turn away. “Don’t worry about me. If I do leave, you probably won’t even remember my name after a while.”

I set my empty beer bottle down and smacked his arm as hard as I could. “Not remember you? What the hell is the matter with you? Of
course
I’ll remember you.” I shoved his shoulders, wanting to hurt him for insinuating I was so flaky I would forget all about him the second he left, but he simply raised a brow at me. “Of
course
I’ll care.”

He finished his beer and set his down too. “No, you won’t. You’ll move on with your life and be fine. You’ll probably marry Cory and have little Ginger babies.”

I smacked him again. Really hard. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Stop hitting me.” He caught my wrist and narrowed his eyes at me. “And I never claimed not to be one, did I?”

I tried to jerk free, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. “Good. Because you’re a big, fat, stupid jerk.”

His jaw ticked. “What are we? Kindergartners? Resorting to name-calling? Should I call you a poopy-face now?” He released my wrist and slid his hand into my hair. “Tug on your hair and pretend I don’t like you?”

I curled my free hand into his shirt and pulled him closer. “Go ahead.”

“No.” But he did bury his hands even deeper into my hair, making my scalp tingle ever so slightly. And then he pulled. Gently. My stomach clenched with need.

I licked my lips. “Why not?”

“Because I’d rather do this.”

He lowered his head, tenderly brushing his lips against mine. He kept the kiss so soft I barely felt it, yet it rocked me straight to my core. That something so little could feel so powerful should have scared me, but it didn’t. It made me want him even more because it felt so right. I wanted his real kiss. The one where he held nothing back and gave me the passion I so desired from him.

“Carrie,” he sighed against my lips, his fingers tightening on my hair. “You’re killing me.”

That gave me the courage to try for more. To get something more than a chaste peck on the lips from him. He’d taught me what desire was, and I wanted to learn more—with
him
.

“Then let me help.”

Rising up on tiptoes, I tried to catch his mouth again. Tried to get him to break his impervious self-control. But he pulled back without giving me a chance. His hands shook as he disengaged himself from my clinging hands, and he looked down at me with heated eyes.

“You can’t help me with this,” he rasped. “I’ll go get you another beer. Stay here.”

Without another word, he grabbed our empty bottles and headed off into the kitchen. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering slightly. I’d thought I had seen desire in his eyes before I tried to kiss him again. I could have sworn he wanted it as much as I did. Obviously, I’d been wrong. I kept throwing myself at him, and he didn’t even want me.

I needed to stop being so freaking pathetic around him. And I really needed to stop melting into a tiny puddle on the floor every time he flexed his hot muscles at me and smiled. He only wanted to be friends, and if that’s all I could get, then so be it. I would have to take it.

He came back into the room, a full beer in each hand and his mouth pressed tight. “Look, I’m—”

I held up my hand, knowing exactly where he was going. “I know. You don’t need to say another thing. Seriously.”

“You’re upset,” he said flatly.

“I’m not. We’re friends, nothing more.”

He hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to be more. Believe me. I just can’t.”

“I know. You’ve told me.” I took the beer from him and took a long, hard drink. “Stop worrying so much. It was fun. It doesn’t mean we’re anything more than friends, right?”

His knuckles went white on his beer. “Right.”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” I sat down and reclined on the couch. Hopefully I didn’t look like I wanted to scream and tear my hair out right now. Because I did. “So, what are we watching?”

He stood there for a second, looking at me. Then he crossed the room and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. Much farther than he had last time. The message was clear. He didn’t want any more accidental kissing to happen.

Fine. Neither did I.

He flipped through the titles and then hovered over a movie. “
The Hangover
?”

“What’s it about?”

He stared at me as if I had sprouted horns or something equally appalling. “You’ve never heard of it?”

“My father didn’t like me going to the movies. He didn’t like movies in general. Said they were nothing but goop for the mind. I snuck into one once, but got dragged out halfway through.” Why did all of my stories end with “and I got dragged out?” Geez. Maybe I should see a therapist or something. Or become one so I could talk to myself about my messed-up childhood. I read the blurb on the TV. “And judging from the description and rating, he definitely wouldn’t have wanted me to watch
this
.”

He shook his head and selected the title. “Oh, Ginger, you don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

“Why don’t you show me?” I asked, issuing a challenge I knew he wouldn’t accept. “All of it.”

His mouth clamped down tight. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Maybe I like tempting you.”

“No, you really don’t. Now knock it off, or I’ll show you what I do with annoying women who don’t know when to stop.”

Was it wrong I wanted to find out exactly what that was?

And was it just me, or was it hot in here? I took another drink, set my beer down, and pulled my oversized sweatshirt off. Avoiding his eyes, I flung it across the room to my bag. Even though I wore a tight black camisole tank underneath, I felt indecently exposed. What if he thought I was trying to seduce him or something?

Was
I trying to seduce him…or something?

As I smoothed my hair with my hand, I stole a quick glance his way. He watched me with hooded eyes. Eyes that saw things I didn’t think I wanted him to see. Standing up, I walked to my bag and dug out my pink shorts I’d brought to sleep in. Shorts that seemed way too short now, but that’s what I always wore to bed. Shorts and a tank top.

Why should I let it bother me now? After all, we were just
friends
.

Lifting my chin, I squeezed past his outstretched legs, brushing against his thigh as I passed. He stiffened and clung to his armrest, his knuckles white. “What are you doing?”

“Changing into comfy clothes.” I grabbed the waistband of my pants, preparing to strip down behind him. “Don’t turn around. I’m doing it behind you.”

He cleared his throat. “Let me guess. Your ‘comfy clothes’ are the tiny shorts you’re holding and the tank top you’re wearing?”

“Mmhm.”

He dropped his head back against the chair. “Fucking fabulous.”

“If you say so.” I stepped out of my pants, feeling out of place in his apartment. It was the first time I stood in nothing but my underwear in front of a guy, and he wasn’t even looking. Didn’t even want to look. “Do you have a problem with my pajamas?”

“No. Not at all.” He adjusted himself on the chair and paused the movie at the starting sequence. “But I’m gonna need another drink before we start. Let me know when you’re dressed.”

I slid my shorts up my legs slowly, enjoying the freeing sensation I felt at being half naked with him in the same room. “You’re good to go.”

He stood up and turned around hesitantly. Almost as if he was afraid I’d lied about being dressed. His gaze ran over me, sending liquid heat flying through my veins. Why was it that he set me on fire just by looking at me, and Cory didn’t even make me the slightest bit warm?

Without a word, he emptied his beer. My full one sat on the table untouched. He gave me a dark look and walked past me toward the kitchen, his stance rigid. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I settled down into the corner of the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me, and picked up my own drink. When he came back out, two beers in hand, he set them down and headed for the bed. “I still have a whole beer,” I said.

“Then I’ll drink them both.”

“Okay…”

Reaching out, he ripped the blue quilt off and came back to the couch. He spread it out over my legs and settled down next to me. After removing his shirt, he tucked himself in before he hit play. So he was cold…but he took off his shirt. That was a contradiction if I’d ever seen one. “There. All settled.”

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah. Sure. Freezing,” he mumbled, taking another swig of his beer.

A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead almost instantly after getting under the blanket. “You don’t look cold,” I said, unable to stop myself from commenting on his strange behavior.

He sighed. “For once, stop questioning everything I do.”

He lifted his beer to his lips, his brooding stare never leaving the screen. Though I would have rather spent the night watching
him
watch the movie, I forced myself to pay attention to the antics on screen. And within seconds, I was laughing hysterically.

When I looked over at him about halfway through the movie, he was watching me with a smile. I froze mid-laugh, my heartbeat increasing when our gazes clashed. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me that sent a surge of heat through my veins. He watched me as if…

As if he’d rather be watching
me
than the movie.