Page 6 of Crave

“Sandy, Mr. Clark is my father. You can call me Josh. And please do me a favor and keep this one out of trouble tonight. I’m counting on you.” He taps his son on the shoulder before he walks away.

“I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you.” I give his body another look, this time taking in his tapered waist and long legs. He’s lean but clearly works out. I imagine what he would look like with the clothes off, but that only lasts a second. I’d never get to find out.

“I’m now your responsibility. My dad said so. What are you going to do with me?” He takes a step closer and stands directly in front of me.

“I don’t think anyone can keep you out of trouble. I have a feeling you do whatever it is you please.” And judging from those bedroom eyes, he can get away with just about anything.

“Beautiful, smart, and wise. How about I show you around?” He offers me his hand as I get out of my seat. He takes my arm and tucks it into his. “Keeping you close so no one can come and steal you away.”

“I don’t think anyone at this party would be interested in stealing me away.” I meant it as a joke since we are the only two people here under sixty, but he gets a far off look on his face. The playful man who had been keeping me company is suddenly gone.

“You’d be surprised.” He sounds almost forlorn. I stop to search his eyes, but the playfulness I’ve gotten used to gone.

It is at this moment, the front door opens and a group of six people walk in.

“Let the party begin.”

“So, this is the cake my mother can’t stop talking about? Did you help make this?” Jacob asks as we stand in the formal dining room where my mother’s masterpiece is displayed.

“I wish. This is all my mom’s doing.”

“It’s beautiful.” He turns to face me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet his brown eyes. “I can’t wait to taste it,” he whispers right before he slowly licks his bottom lip.

Flustered by his candor, I look around the room. I look past his shoulders, through the kitchen and at the back door. Just a few steps, and I could be back in the van, on my way to meet my girls. I’m out of my depth and comfort zone, but I take a step closer to him. I’ll only have this one night, this one moment, so I decide to stay and be bold.

“What makes you think you’ll get a taste? Do you think you’re deserving of anything so…sweet?” And because the desire to touch him won’t leave me, I pretend to wipe away something on his chest. It’s a solid wall of muscle. He leans into my touch.

“I guess I’ll just have to earn my sweet reward. The night’s still young, and I plan on keeping you by my side. I don’t think you’re going to make those dinner plans.” He covers my hand with his, pressing it into his body.

“You are so sure of yourself, aren’t you? I’ll stick around as long as the company is good.” I look into his eyes again, and as soon as they connect, I look away, afraid I'll become lost in those brown irises and in this man.

He is definitely the wrong sort for me. He’s trouble. He’s complicated. I know it, and I don’t do either, but for tonight, I’ll do both.

“You see this?” He asks as we walk out of the dining room into the living room. He points at a makeshift dance floor in the middle. It’s a large room with floor to ceiling windows, overlooking a huge patio and yard. “This is where we’re going to dance.”

“You know what you should try, Jacob?” I ask. I invade his space, stepping as close to him as possible without touching him. He’s so damn tall, I tilt my head up and he lowers his ear to my lips. His earlobe briefly touches my mouth, and I hear a sharp intake of breath. “You should try asking instead of telling me what I’m going to do,” I whisper in his ear. The words are husky. I barely recognize my own voice. The room’s gotten hotter, and despite the cold temperature of the wine, I can’t seem to cool down.

Those playful, brown eyes turn to me again.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Come.” I stop walking at that command. He stops as well and turns towards me again. “Will you come with me, please?”

“Much better.”

“See, I’m trainable.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

He takes me around and gives me a tour downstairs of the house he grew up in. It’s huge, but warm and inviting with scattered family pictures. I grab a picture of what looks like a five year old Jake. He’s smiling wide, his two missing front teeth on full display. Next to him is a boy who looks to be only about two years older.

“Is this your older brother? You two look nothing alike.” His brother is blonde, while Jake has a mop of dark hair.

“That’s Troy. He looks like our mother and I take after dad.” He takes the frame from my hand and sets it down.

“You two look close in age. My sister is ten years older than me, but we have always been very close

“Troy and I are less than two years apart,” is all he says.

“Are you close?” I probe.

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