I allow my finger to continue its slow drag down Juliette's cheek. I knew there was a small possibility she'd again ask how I make money, but I haven't prepared a detailed answer.

Her eyes flash defiance and curiosity, and all I want is to feel her mouth again. Touch my tongue to hers. And so much more.

This is where I should stop. Walk out of here and never see her again. Or smile dazzlingly and tell her more lies about imports and exports. Instead, I look deep into her sea glass-green eyes and cup her jaw in my hand. Jesus, her skin is soft. Almost imperceptibly, she leans into my touch and I'm reminded all over again how desperately I want to fuck her.

I am never desperate.

"The less you know about that part of my life, the better." I try to make my voice firm and force myself to stop touching her by sliding my hands under the table, but that only makes me think about how near her legs are to my fingers.

Her eyes narrow. "Why? That makes no sense."

I frown, never expecting her to question me. Women usually treat my word as if it's sacred. "Because."

Now her expression is a full-on, skeptical smirk. "Because why? Can't you give me a reason? What's the deal? I think if I'm going to kiss you again, I deserve to know."

I run a hand through my hair. She's doing what few people have in the past seven years: challenge me.

"Because I said so. Because it's a fact." How the hell do I tell a seventeen-year-old girl that I don't want her knowing anything about my business because I don't want her to ever get in trouble because of my illegal activities?

"That's a rather authoritarian attitude."

I fight back a smile. She's right, of course. I lean towards her and put my hands on her forearms. I squeeze her lightly, all the while thinking about capturing her wrists in my hands, holding them over her head and lying on top of her. Naked. "You have to trust me on this. I'm serious. It's none of your business. Really, you shouldn't be around me at all."

She nods slowly. "That's pretty similar to what your sister said, too. And my brother. That I should stay away. But, you're the one who came here."

I snatch my hands away. "Good point. You talked to your brother about me?"

"Not exactly. He saw that I was looking through some old photos on the computer. And I asked a few questions about you. He responded by telling me that if I had anything to do with you, he'd be upset."

"I can see Ashton saying that." What old photos does she have? No, I can't ask. She's such a sweet girl that she'll likely bring me copies and they'll bring back all the old, bad, messy memories of high school.

"Why?"

I stare at her in silence.

"You're not going to tell me for my own good, right?"

"Something like that, yeah. And I suggest you not tell your brother about tonight."

She sips her coffee in silence, and I suspect she's mulling a few things over. She licks her lips and my dick hardens. This would be so much easier if she wasn't so fucking beautiful. If I didn't want to grab her and press her against the nearest wall and rip that T-shirt clean off her. If I didn't want another taste of her lips.

"I can understand that you'd want privacy for certain parts of your life, and maybe don't want to explain other things to me. But here's what I don't get: why are you here? And why did you kiss me, back there in the parking lot?"

She fixes an unwavering gaze at me and I squirm at her logical questions in the bright bookstore light. Maybe I've done the wrong thing by coming here. Usually I have command of any situation I'm in. Right now, I'm on the defensive.

"Shoes. I wanted to give you the shoes," I say, lamely. Of course, she'll know the truth once she opens the box.

"You're sure that's all?"

I grin. "I don't think girls were this smart back when I was in high school. Or this curious about my intentions."

She laughs, a sound that breaks some of the tension between us. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Look. I came out here because I wanted to see you."

Pause. She doesn't respond, but her cheekbones flush with a beautiful pink.

"I like you." I can't believe I'm telling her this.

She blinks.

"I wanted to kiss you the second I saw you in the diner the other week."

She stares into her coffee. Her mouth quirks up on one side, and then she raises her eyes. "So basically you don't want me to question you, you don't want me to tell anyone we've seen each other, but you want to kiss me. I'm not sure that's fair."

I lean back and try to act casual, but my heart's beating fast. She's formidable now. What will she be like in ten years?

"Griffin, what do you want from me?"

To bend you over that counter and ease those tight jeans down and slide my dick inside you while staring at your incredible ass.

I shake my head, trying to regain control. "What I want shouldn't matter. It's inappropriate and it's wrong."

Her mouth drops open and I clench my jaw so tight that I can practically feel my molars crack.

"What if I want the same thing?" Oh fuck. She says this in a whisper and my dick gets fully hard. I shift in my seat uncomfortably.

"You're underage."

"So?"

I can't believe that I, Griffin Davis, a drug dealer, am defending and upholding the law over a beautiful girl. A girl I want more than anything right now. Hell, I'd trade my Porsche if I could get her in bed without consequence.

"So, if your brother finds out, or your mother discovers what we're doing, they would likely call the cops and have me arrested for statutory rape. Police are the last thing I need in my life." I shoot her a pointed look and her eyes widen, as if she's making connections in her brain.

"I'll be eighteen in a month."

I blow out a little laugh. "You're not making this easy."

She grins at me, all adorable and innocent, and that's when my defenses crumble.

I absolutely need to fuck her. To kiss her. To taste every inch of her. I stare at her, almost wishing she'd fear me like so many others do. Wishing she would run away so I won't corrupt her, dirty her, ruin her. She doesn't just want money or status or drugs — like other women.

And that's the problem.

"All right," I say, leaning forward and speaking in a businesslike tone. "Give me your phone."

Warily, she turns to her purse that's hung on the back of her chair and extracts her cell. She slides it across the table. I pick it up and tap on her phone icon. I call my cell, so I can capture her number.

"I'm typing my number into your phone and saving it under the fake name Jon S. See?" I hold it up so she can see the screen, then hand it back to her. "I want you to spend the next month carefully considering whether to call me when you turn eighteen. Think hard about everything I've said tonight. Think about what my sister told you, and what your brother said. They are all one hundred percent correct in whatever they said about me."

She nods, and I hope — for her sake, and mine — that I've scared her.

"But I adore you, Juliette."

The electricity between us doesn't just crackle, it explodes.

"I want to do dirty things to you."

She stares at me, her breath quickening. When she doesn't say anything in response, I continue.

"I'm not going to call you. Ever. If you want to see me, get in touch when you turn eighteen. Or the week after. Or a month after. Hell, five years after. If you don't call, I understand why and I'll still adore you. It's up to you to make the next move, and I'll respect whatever you choose."

"And what happens if I do call after my birthday?"

Jesus, those big, sparkling eyes. My eyes drift to her chest, then to her mouth. "Then I'll make the next move. And you're a smart enough girl to know exactly what that means."

She inhales sharply and nods. "I should be getting back."

"Of course."

We're silent as we walk out of the bookstore and to my bike. I help her buckle the helmet.

"I've never taken a girl on my bike before," I murmur as I finish the buckle.

She flips up the visor. "What? I didn't hear."

"Nothing, just talking to myself."

She's much less timid this time, and wraps her arms around me tight without hesitation. I go slow, much slower than I'm used to, on the way back to the parking lot.

As I turn in, I see her car in the distance, way on the other side of the lot. There's a black car next to it, which is weird because there's no other cars in that zone.

She starts to thump on my chest. Hard. She makes a little motion with her finger to take a sharp right along the side of a department store in the shopping plaza. I follow her direction and turn, then glide the bike to a stop in the back of the building.

I turn my head. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Her visor's already up and her chest is heaving. "My brother. That was his car near mine. Oh my God."

Fuck. Exactly what I don't need. She slides off the bike and fumbles with the buckle.

"Stop. Let me help. Don't panic."

I pull the helmet off her and she's wide-eyed with fear. She takes a few steps and leans against the stucco building, closing her eyes. It's dark now, and her hair's come undone from the helmet. It's cascading over her shoulders and I entertain the fantasy of her sweeping her hair over my naked body.

"Do you think my brother saw us?"

I set the helmet on the bike seat then walk to her. "I doubt it. It's practically a full city block from where we turned in to where your car is. We probably looked like ants from way over there. And there's a few cars on this side of the lot so he probably didn't see a thing. But you've got good eyes, if you could recognize him from that far away."

"His Jeep is distinctive because of the white stripe on the side. And he was parked right next to me. Does he know you have a bike? Could he recognize you?"

I'm a little rattled, but can't let her know. I lean against the building, next to her, and shake my head. "Just breathe. It's okay. I haven't seen your brother in years. And he wouldn't know it was you, because you had a helmet on."

"Right. I guess. I'm going to walk over there from here. I'll tell him I was window shopping at the department store. I'll make something up."

She steps in front of me. Then toward me. And doesn't stop until she's right up against me, only an inch separating us. She looks up with those giant eyes — they even glitter in the orangey glow of the streetlamp — and what's left of my cool dissolves.

Just as she did the night we met at Babylon, she stands on her toes and presses her lips to my cheek, brushing her beautiful tits against my chest. That other night, I stood as still as a statue, hands clenched into fists and willing myself not to make a mistake as I inhaled her heady, vanilla-tinged perfume.

Tonight, I can't help but make a mistake. Tonight, I'm drunk on her scent and her taste. Tonight I'll break rules. Be the bad boy that she thinks I am, because I'm not thinking about anything but her mouth.

In one quick motion, I cup her jaw in my hands and propel her body, so her back's against the building wall.

"You're teasing me. Fuck, Juliette." I kiss her fiercely and it's not gentle like earlier. She tastes like sugar and I drink from her, as if she harbors a well of nectar.

My hand's half on her throat, and to a passerby, it might look like I'm choking her. The two of us know otherwise. This is blind need, what's happening between us. Something I've never experienced with all the coked-out models and strippers and waitresses of my past.

She moans, just a little, and I kiss her harder, just like I want to fuck her. She's not backing down, not protesting, not surrendering. Her hands are in my hair, tugging and pulling and she's kissing me back and she feels so fucking good. She curls a leg up so her knee's against my hip, and I rake my hand up the back of her thigh, squeezing her ass as I bite her lip.

It makes her groan, and that makes me even harder. I grind into her. Yeah. This is too good.

I back away a few feet, trying to regain composure and dignity. Which is difficult because my dick is hard enough to cut diamonds.

"Go." I can only say this one word while I catch my breath. She has to leave, before I do something I regret. Like take her back to my house. Like fuck her right here, in the back of a suburban shopping mall.

She closes her eyes and for a second I think she's going to cry. But I realize she's only trying to gather herself before walking away.

Opening her eyes, she flashes me a glance.

I move in her direction, about to press her against the wall for another kiss, when she straightens her spine and turns away. I watch, incredulous at her self-control and lusting after her round ass. She walks quickly, disappearing around the corner without so much as a backwards glance.

I press my forehead to the rough stucco and close my eyes. My dick is throbbing in time with the beat of my heart. I've never felt this out of control around a woman.

Juliette Phillips is a far tougher person than I expected. If she wants me as bad as I want her, she'll call me the minute she turns eighteen.

And I won't have any excuse to send her away.

____