“Your father would have a cow if he saw you here.”
Trepidation surged in her stomach at the sound of the dark voice in her ear, the feel of a broad palm covering her hip, and the sensation of being surrounded with heat.
He pulled the bottle from her hand and passed it to another woman passing by them. The blonde flashed him a smile and a wink as she took it and continued on with her companion.
“That was just rude,” she told him.
She didn’t turn; she couldn’t force herself to turn. For the first time in all the years she had been teasing and tempting Cameron Falladay, he was finally touching her.
His chest pressed against her shoulders, his hand gripped her hip, his arm rested on the side of the truck beside her. She felt surrounded by him. Heated by him. She felt sinfully aware of the hard press of his h*ps against her lower back and the erection beneath his jeans.
“That was common sense.” He nipped her ear and she felt her pulse ignite with a heat that burned across her nerve endings. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m legal,” she reminded him, suddenly feeling more feminine than she had in her life.
“By all of three months?” The rasp of his rough cheek against her ear nearly had her coming undone.
She was breathing hard and fast, and she knew it. She couldn’t stop it. Her heart was racing in her chest, her thighs felt week, her cl*t was swollen, her ni**les hard. She could feel every inch of her body readying itself for him.
“Three months, three years.” She shrugged with an attempt at a laugh. “Does it matter?”
As she spoke, his arm lifted as though in a signal. Within seconds the pulsing, hard drive of the music eased away to be replaced by a slower, softer tune.
It was late, it was normal. The music turned sexier, pounding with sex and excitement rather than anticipation.
“Dance with me.”
Jaci stiffened in shock as Cam’s hand tightened at her hip and he drew her back toward the shadows at the front of the truck, which had been backed toward the circle of partygoers.
She turned in his arms, hands pressing against the dark T-shirt as he stared down at her, his broad chest sheltering her, warming her as his arms moved around her.
“Cam.” Wonder filled her voice. She had been dying for this for too many years. To be held against his large body, his arms around her.
She felt the rasp of his cheek against the top of her head, the sliding of his pants against her bare thighs beneath the short hem of her skirt.
He wasn’t wearing jeans. He was wearing the camouflage pants he usually wore when leaving for or returning from duty. How long had he been home? It couldn’t have been for long. Had he come straight here for her? Just for her?
“You shouldn’t be here, sweetheart.” His hands slid over her back. Up. Down. Then, his hand slid beneath the bottom of her shirt and touched her bare flesh.
Oh God. His hands were broad and calloused, warm, impossibly arousing. She could feel the shudders working up her spine from his touch, tearing at the control she had promised herself she would have around him.
At twenty-six, Cam was a world ahead of her in experience. A warrior, a conqueror. It was in his dark face, in those light green eyes.
“Where should I be?” She lifted her head to him, he with his gaze imprisoning hers as he stared down at her. He swayed to the music with her, rubbed against her.
“Safe,” he answered.
“At home, playing with my dolls?” she suggested sweetly. “Those days are long gone, Cam.”
His expression was hungry. She teased him, though she knew better. She tilted her h*ps toward him, then gasped in shock as his hands slid to her rear, clenched the rounded flesh and jerked her to him.
“Cam?” Her nails dug into his shoulders as the hard wedge of his erection pressed tight against the sensitive flesh between her thighs.
“You can go home with me, or I can take you back to your parents’,” he rasped. “Which one?”
Her lips parted as she fought to breathe, to make sense of this abrupt change in the man she had been flirting with and teasing for so many years.
“The party—”