Now Caroline lay in the darkness of the guest bedroom and listened as the footsteps outside the room drew closer. She glanced at the bedside clock. Nearly one in the morning. She’d been battling her nerves for more than two hours, waiting for Jason to come upstairs and wondering if she’d have the nerve to remain in his room until he did. She’d had a crush on the reformed bad boy for as long as she could remember, and although he might act as if he didn’t know she existed, Caroline knew better.
He’d just graduated from UCLA School of Law, and her father couldn’t have been prouder than if Jason had been his own son. William had invited his protégé to stay with them at their beach house in Santa Cruz, in order to celebrate his success and discuss his future plans. Caroline hoped Jason would be blown away by how adult she looked; after all, she was now almost seventeen. That afternoon, she’d deliberately joined her father and Jason for lunch on the patio, wearing nothing but a string bikini. Her father had caught sight of her over his newspaper and scowled.
“What?” she’d demanded, widening her eyes. “I’m going to the beach right after I eat.”
“Well, cover up until then.” He’d glanced at Jason, whose eyes were resolutely focused on his plate, and snapped his newspaper in irritation. “Unlawful contact with a minor is still a punishable offense, even if it is provoked.”
With a huff of annoyance, she’d returned to her room for a cover-up. When she’d come back to the table, Jason was gone.
“He’s too old for you,” her father had commented from behind his paper.
“Daddy,” she’d grumbled in protest. “I’m not doing anything.”
Her father had lowered his newspaper and removed his glasses. His blue eyes had been shrewd as he considered her. “It’s times like this that I wish your mother was still alive,” he’d finally said. “But she’s not, so I’m going to say it like I see it. Jason Cooper is a fine young man, and I don’t blame you for being attracted to him. But please stop tormenting him, and go practice your wiles on a boy your own age.”
“Daddy.”
He’d risen to his feet and stopped by her chair long enough to drop a kiss on top of her head and tweak a strand of her blond hair. “You’re old enough to know exactly what you’re doing to him and young enough to be forgiven for it. But he’s just a man. Test him any further, and you may find the consequences more than you can handle. For his own sake, it’s probably a good thing he’s leaving tomorrow.”
Now Caroline drew in a shaky breath and listened to Jason’s approach. She knew she was doing the right thing. Her father had all but said Jason found her attractive. But he was leaving in the morning. She wasn’t about to let him go without telling him how she felt.
The windows of the beach house were open, and the gauzy curtains billowed softly with the warm breeze that blew in from the Pacific, carrying with it the salt-tinged fragrance of the sea. In the distance, she could just hear the rhythmic pounding of the surf. Caroline curled her fingers around the sheet and waited. The pillowcase beneath her cheek smelled faintly of Jason—dark and woodsy. She breathed deeply, and the familiar scent lent her some courage.
When the door finally opened, she saw him silhouetted briefly in the hallway before he stepped inside and drew it closed behind him. Caroline’s heart beat so hard and fast in her chest that for a moment, she wondered if he might hear it. In the dim light of the room, he didn’t see her lying quiet and still in the bed, but her eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and she could see him clearly.
He walked past the foot of the bed toward the open windows, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He finally peeled it off and dropped it onto the back of a nearby chair. He stood at the windows. Pale moonlight slanted in through the open casement, illuminating his body and revealing the strong slope of his shoulders and the muscled definition of his arms. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the tattoos on his shoulders and across his back. She couldn’t make them out clearly, but the black ink was unmistakable against his skin. She’d known he had them—had caught sight of them once as a young girl when he’d taken a late afternoon swim in their pool. But when he’d realized she was watching him from her playhouse in the corner of the yard, he’d quickly pulled himself out of the water and dragged a shirt over his head. She’d never seen the tattoos again, and she wondered if he deliberately kept them covered because he was ashamed of them.
He braced his hands on the sill and leaned forward, letting his head drop, as if torn by some inner conflict. He stood like that for a long moment before straightening and scrubbing a hand over his hair.
Toeing his shoes off, he shucked his jeans and walked toward the bed. Caroline knew the precise instant that he became aware of her presence. He reached for the sheet that covered her and then recoiled.
“Jesus.” His voice was a shocked rasp, scraping across her senses like rough velvet.
Terrified that he might leave, Caroline surged to her knees on the bed, hands reaching for him as the sheet fell away. “Please don’t go. I need to tell you something.”
He caught her wrists when she would have touched him, but he didn’t thrust her away, as she’d half expected. Emboldened, she leaned toward him. He wore a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else, and she could smell the scent of his skin. As always, it turned her thoughts to dark, forbidden acts. She had zero experience in that department, but her imagination was rampant with images of how it would be with him.
“Caroline, you shouldn’t be in here.” His voice was low, tense.
“I had to. You’re leaving tomorrow.” She scooted closer on her knees, until she was at the very edge of the mattress. “I wanted to tell you that I—I love you. And I want you to be my first.”
In the stunned silence that followed her declaration, Caroline could hear the whooshing of her own blood in her ears.
“No.” He pushed her hands away and took a jerky step back. “You don’t. Jesus, you’re just a kid.”
“I’m not. I’m almost seventeen. All my friends have already lost their virginity.” She stepped off the bed and, before he could retreat, pressed her body against his. When she slid her arms around his lean waist, he went rigid in her embrace. “Please, Jason,” she entreated, smoothing her hands over his skin. “You’re all I think about.”
He grasped her shoulders and tried to shove her away. His voice sounded strangled. “Are you naked?”
“Not yet. I’m still wearing panties.”
“You need to go back to your own room. What if your father comes in?”
“He won’t,” she assured him. “He never comes upstairs.”
William’s bedroom was located on the first floor, at the farthest end of the beach house. He typically went to bed in the wee hours of the morning, but once asleep, Caroline knew that very little would wake him up.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she continued. “Please kiss me.”
His eyes, the exact shade of tempered glass, glinted in the indistinct light, and she shivered at the heat she saw reflected there.
“Caroline—”
“Please, Jason.” She raised herself on tiptoe and pressed gentle kisses against his collarbone, his throat and anywhere she could reach. He tried to hold himself rigidly away, but Caroline pressed herself against him until her breasts were flattened between them. She let her hands stroke over his back and lower. When she smoothed her palms over the firm mounds of his buttocks and raised her hips to his, he gave a harsh groan, and she felt his restraint give way like the moorings of a storm-tossed