The night air swims around us, feeling like a trap. It’s not hot, but it’s not cool. It’s thick, but weightless. The bar behind us is set to close within the hour and most of the patrons have gone home.
“What are we doing out here?” I’m confused about everything that has transpired today. I pray this time to get a straight answer. It’s hard to seduce a man when you have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s not like the others, or so it would seem.
“I come out here to clear my thoughts.”
“I come out here to get attacked by mosquitoes.” I slap a bug crawling up my knee, where my skirt meets my skin.
“You know what your problem is?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific. I have a lot of problems.”
He nods and steals a sip of beer. “You live life too fast. It’s okay to slow down every once in a while.”
“You know what happens when people slow down?” He turns to me with inquisitive eyes. “They die with regrets. I’m not going to be buried that way.”
“You are twenty-two years old. You shouldn’t be concerned about regrets.”
“I told you. I’m not. Thus the generally fast pace at which I choose to live my life, and right now… I’m bored.”
His palm edges along the side of his face, where the moonlight meets his hairline. “You came to that meeting for a reason. And it wasn’t because you needed my class to graduate.”
“Don’t get it twisted.” I scoot off the edge of the hood and land on a pad of gravel. “That’s the only reason I showed up.”
He shakes his head. “Do you have a habit of lying to everybody? Or is it just me?”
I just stare at him, opting to take in the beautiful sight as opposed to answering his question that I don’t have a response for. For being a man over thirty—barely—he burns with the brightness and promise of youth. He’s undiscovered territory to me, and I’m ready to explore.
“You’re so consumed trying to be smarter than everyone else and trying to outplay them, but you never stop and cover your tracks.” He raises the bottle of beer and ‘cheers’ me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I’m not in the mood, at this point, to bump imaginary glasses.
“I know you don’t need my class to graduate.” He shrugs. “It’s why you blew it off in the first place.”
“Oh…”
“So, are you going to tell me why you came to that meeting?”
“Sometimes,” I say, followed by a pause where I throw my hands in the air, trying to invent some bullshit excuse, “Jesus talks to me.”
“Apple…” He’s not buying it, which is to be expected because he’s an intelligent—presumably—educator.
“Look, I can’t help it. I didn’t choose to be a prophet of the lord.” If nothing else, I commit to my stories.
“You have a problem with honesty, but it just so happens that I don’t.”
“Meaning?”
He hops off the hood of the car, slamming into the gravel like a superhero. “It means,” he says, catching his breath in an instant, “I think you’re a beautiful girl, and I have no problem saying that.”
“Are you hitting on me?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He’s so sure of himself, void of any nervous tics that existed before. “I’m not stupid.”
I laugh uncomfortably. It’s too soon for him to figure me out. “Your ego is out of control.”
He takes a measured step toward me. I flinch backward. “Everybody talks, and I hear them all. I know what I am to girls like you.”
“A pain in the ass?”
“A challenge.” He takes another step, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. “A one-and-done, I can say I did it challenge.”
“Why?” I scoff. “Because you’re so damn sexy?”
“Your words. Not mine.”
“And your ego makes another appearance.”
“I’ve looked at this a million different ways, trying to figure out what your angle is and it always comes back to this.”
“I…”
“You have a bad reputation, Apple.” He places his palm on my hip, against the warm fabric of my skirt. He’s crossing a line that I want him to cross, but it’s too soon. He’s supposed to fall in love with me, not fuck me and leave me. That’s what they—men—are good for.
“So everybody says...”
“Everybody talks about it, but there’s something they don’t know.” He leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “So do I.”
It takes a hot fucking second to figure out whom he reminds me of—Brick fucking Valmont. From his ego to his devilish good looks, all the way to his fucking car. I should run. I know that, but I can’t lose this last game to Brick.
“Are you bad?” I whisper back and place my hand on his firmer than I would have believed chest. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“Something like that.” He inches closer, his body pressing up against mine.
“What did you do with my professor?”
“He’s like Batman. Once the sun goes down, he turns into something else.” He pulls his head back and raises my chin with his hand. His blue eyes are feral under the weight of the moon, and I know exactly what it is that he wants.
12
He doesn’t make love. He fucks. If I worked for the CIA, that’s the assumption I would write in my thesis. I push him backward toward the hood of the car, and take a quick glance at the bar behind us to ensure nobody is watching.
I have a bad reputation in the city. I don’t need one out here in the sticks.
His body leans against the car, and he wears a curious smile. He’s dying to know what comes next, and my purpose is to make him suffer with anticipation until I’m able to get what I want from him.
Jensen Moon is a man of wonder, a man who has always been shrouded in mystery. Jensen Moon isn’t going to be an easy man to crack. He’s not designed to fall in love, that’s what my training tells me.
His heart is protected, but my mother—in all her fucked up glory—once told me that the quickest way to a man’s heart was through his cock. I’m not sure that piece of wisdom has any bearing on reality, but he’s left me with no other option.
I grab both sides of his unbuttoned shirt and pull them down his broad shoulders, and then his muscular arms. His eyes never waver from my touch. He enjoys being undressed, and I enjoy doing the undressing.
I toss his shirt onto the hood of the car and finger at the bottom of his tee before pulling it over his head. “You like it like this, don’t you?”
“Slow and steady?” He shakes his head ever so slightly. “But that’s not what you’re referring to, is it?”
“Astute observation, Mr. Moon.” I begin to unbutton my blouse with careful precision. One button at a time, slow enough so that the anticipation forces him to swipe his tongue against his lips.
There’s something about the way the night air catches my bare skin. There’s a knowing and impending danger in the idea that we might get caught. The very thought drives me wild as I drop my blouse onto the gravel beneath us.
He reaches down and adjusts his erection through his slacks, and it’s as I watch this erotic show that I realize the true gravity of this situation. I stand a great chance at losing my bet with Brick. What’s stopping Jensen from fucking me against the hood of his car and then disappearing back into his life, never to see me again?
There must be caution written across my face because he raises my chin with his hand again. “It’s okay, Apple,” he reassures me, and that’s all it takes. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head.
I study his body, taking in every ridge and groove in his formidable abs. Nobody in public education should look like this, or be built like this. It’s dangerous. His slacks cut horizontally through the v’s that contour his sides against the blackness of the night.