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Excerpt

I’m afraid to stand up, terrified I’ll be sporting a wet spot on my silk dress when my pussy began leaking after feeling Ethan’s hands on my bare skin after he checked out my ankle.

Christ, now how am I supposed to take one of these stupid high school boys seriously when they try to make a move on me later? It’s going to be impossible now that his strong hands have smoothed over my skin letting me feel both the tenderness in the gesture as well as the callouses along the fingertips—something unexpected. I would have predicted his hands would have been smooth as he’s a man who works with computers day in and day out.

I’m so glad I’m wrong.

As I stare down at his bowed head, I’m not entirely certain I’m breathing as another surge of lust blasts through me. Up until this moment, I’d always categorized the way I fantasized about my best friend’s uncle much the same way I lust after Beckett Miller—the world’s hottest rock god—or his country counterpart, Brendan Blake.

Something any female would turn to her partner and say, “They’re on my celebrity sex list.” That’s how gorgeous Ethan Kensington is. Celebrity or not, the man absolutely makes my top five.

What I felt before was something I had no problem falling asleep to when his emerald green eyes flashed behind my closed ones, and his face flashed into my mind as I orgasmed in my room late at night. My attraction was something completely controllable.

That is until he touched my skin with his hands.

Now, the only thing I can pray is that Ethan can’t smell my arousal from his touch—the way my breath hitched when he smoothed his hands up and down my calf after he caught me in his arms when I tripped in my heels before almost face planting in the graduation cake I’m supposed to share with my best friend—his niece!—and about a third of our high school.

At the moment, I need to put some distance between the two of us before I do something like jump up, wrap my legs around his waist, and dig my heels into his lower back. Trying to calm his agitation, I soothe him. “I’m fine. I just got my foot caught.”

“And almost went flying into a cake.” At the stern tone of his voice, my nipples pebble behind the lace of my demi bra.

“You came to the rescue.”

His next words almost make me fall off the lounger I’m sitting on. “I always will.”

Trying to regain some semblance of calm, I drag my clutch from where I tossed it at the lounge bend. Snapping it open, I whip out my cell and immediately begin texting. An aggravated expression crosses his face before his eyes roll heavenward. “What? Are you telling Austyn about this?”

My lips twist. “Hell no. I’m just marking the date and time in my calendar so I can use it against you in the future.”

He wants to laugh. Like so many nights since we met officially a few months ago, I really want to be that person who breaks through that wall and is the one who makes him do just that. Instead, he swipes my phone from my hand.

Curious, but not concerned, I ask, “And you did what, exactly?”

“When you and Austyn get into trouble at UT, text me. Do not contact my sister or your mother. They’ll have a heart attack at your shenanigans.”

A warmth that has nothing to do with sexuality spreads through me. I reach for my phone and for a moment, our fingertips touch. Neither of us moves away.

Our eyes lock—blue to green.

His words were a kind of gift—a protection I’ve never experienced. I grew up without a father—not because he didn’t want to be there, but due to a freak trucking accident wasn’t able to be. My mother mourned him in ways I never quite understood until I got older. He was the love of her life and she wasn’t about to dishonor his memory with stand-ins when she knew what true love was.

Still, it left me never knowing what it was to have a strong man to catch me when I fell, to lay my worries on. Or to just wrap my arms around. Ethan can’t appreciate the beauty of what he just offered me, but I can’t let it go unacknowledged. “Why am I not surprised? Before you, no one’s ever tried to rescue me before.”

His brow furrows. I know he wants to ask more, but the back door of the Kensington estate seems to explode as kids from my senior class come racing out. With much practice, I lock away my frailty and bound over to my best friend to celebrate the next stage of our lives.

The unknown.

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About the Author

Tracey Jerald knew she was meant to be a writer when she would re-write the ending of books in her head on her bike when she was a young girl growing up in southern Connecticut. It wasn’t long before she was typing alternate endings and extended epilogues “just for fun”.

After college in Florida, where she obtained a degree in Criminal Justice swearing she saw things she’ll never quite believe and never quite forget, Tracey traded the world of law and order for IT.

Her work for a world-wide internet startup transferred her to Northern Virginia where she met her husband in what many call their own happily ever after. They have one son.

When she’s not busy with her family or writing, Tracey can be found in her home in north Florida drinking coffee, reading, training for a runDisney event, or feeding her addiction to HGTV.

Connect with Tracey

Website: https://www.traceyjerald.com

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