Rush Too Far

CHAPTER SIX

A text from Anya said that two dozen yellow roses weren’t necessary. That was it. Nothing more. I knew it was the clean-cut end to our occasional fucks. My guilt eased where she was concerned, as I stuck my phone back into my pocket and continued running.

I ran when I needed to think and clear my head. I also ran when I’d had too many drinks the night before. Tonight I just needed to run. I didn’t want to be home when Blaire walked inside. I didn’t want to face her. I didn’t want to hear her voice. I just wanted distance.

She deserved my help. But that was it. I didn’t want to get to know her. I sure as hell didn’t want to be her friend. The day she left, I would be able to breathe easy again. Maybe go visit my dad. Get away from here and enjoy life a little.

But then, fate had a way of laughing at my plans.

I slowed down as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I easily made out the silhouette of Blaire in the moonlight. Fuck me.

She didn’t see me . . . yet. She was staring out at the water. Her long blond hair was blowing back off her face and dancing around her shoulders. The moonlight made the color of her silky strands look silver.

Her head turned, and those eyes of hers locked with mine. Shit.

I should have just nodded at her and run up to the house. Not said anything. Just kept going. I was letting her live here; I didn’t have to speak to her. But damn, I wasn’t going to be able to help doing that.

I stopped in front of her and watched as her gaze focused on my chest. The fact that I was suddenly glad that I was shirtless wasn’t good. I shouldn’t care that she was staring at my chest like she wanted a lick. Fuck. Fuck. No! She didn’t want to lick my chest. Where the hell had that idea come from? She was fucking with my head. Dammit. I needed to get her eyes off my body. Now.

“You’re back,” I said, breaking the silence and snapping her out of her thoughts.

“I just got off work,” she replied, lifting her gaze back to my face.

“So you got a job?” I asked, needing to keep her attention on my face.

“Yes. Yesterday.”

“Where at?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear how she had gotten it. What she was doing and if she liked it. Wait . . . was she wearing makeup? Holy hell, she had mascara on. Those eyelashes could actually get longer.

“Kerrington Country Club,” she said.

I was unable to stop looking at her eyes. They were amazing without fucking makeup. But damn, with just a little, they were unreal. I slipped my hand under her chin and tilted her head up so I could get a better look. “You’re wearing mascara,” I said, as explanation for my strange behavior.

“Yes, I am,” she said, moving her head so that she was free of my touch. I let my hand fall away. I shouldn’t have touched her. She was right to stop that. I had no right to touch her like that.

“It makes you look more your age,” I said, taking a step back and looking down at her uniform.

I knew that uniform well. I had slept with more cart girls over the years than I wanted to admit. It was the reason I had picked up golf in my teen years. Once the college-age cart girls found out who my daddy was, they were very interested in taking me for a ride in their carts. In many ways.

“You’re the cart girl at the golf course,” I said, lifting my eyes to look back at her. I already knew that, but seeing her in the uniform made me smile. She wore it well.

“How did you know?”

“The outfit. Tight little white shorts and polo shirts. It’s the uniform. You’re making a fucking killing, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question; it was a statement.

She shrugged, then straightened her shoulders, moving back a little more from me. She sensed the need to keep her distance from me. Good girl. She might be tougher than I thought. “You will be relieved to know that I’ll be out of here in less than a month.”

I should have been relieved. Hell, I fucking wished that was what I was feeling right then. It would mean I had one fewer problem. But I liked her here. I liked knowing I could keep her safe. Or that I was doing something to make up for the wrong I’d done to her already. Unable to stop myself, I took a step toward her. “I probably should be. Relieved, that is. Real fucking relieved. But I’m not. I’m not relieved, Blaire.” I leaned down until my mouth was just a breath away from her ear. “Why is that?” I asked in a whisper, before inhaling her sweet, clean smell. Would she smell like this between her legs? Would she be as sweet and fresh? A new kind of sweat broke out on my body, and I moved back. I was getting off track. “Keep your distance from me, Blaire. You don’t want to get too close. Last night . . .” Fuck, why was I talking about this with her? I needed to forget it had happened. “Last night is haunting me. Knowing you were watching. It drives me crazy . So stay away. I’m doing my best to stay away from you,” I said in a harsh tone meant for myself more than anything. But I couldn’t explain that to her. I just turned and ran. I had to get away.

Once I was safe in my room upstairs, I went to the window and stared down at the beach below. Blaire was still there. But she wasn’t watching the waves this time. She was looking back at the house. What was she thinking? Had I scared the shit out of her? Or was she waiting for me to change my mind and come back? I reached up and touched the cool glass with my palm and watched her. It seemed like forever and not nearly long enough before she walked back to the house.

That night, I dreamed of her for the first time. Vivid images of her underneath me. Both of her long legs were wrapped around me, and her head was thrown back as I brought her to a release we both felt.

I was so fucked.