Bad Judgment (3 page)

“Rachel said he was standing next to the cop car in cuffs. That’s all.”

She has to be wrong. Maybe Rachel got it wrong. “Did she see it happen? Is she sure it was them?”

“Rachel left here right after they did. Their apartment is on the way to her place. Apparently half of Red River Avenue is closed right now to clean up the accident.”

“Oh my God.” Handcuffs mean arrest. The most likely reason being . . . drinking and driving.

We’re all thinking the same thing; Merica just says it first. “Chad is fucked if he gets a DUI. He’s already got an offer for after graduation with that hotshot defense firm he’s been working at, but I bet they’d rescind that before he could say
not guilty
.”

“Oh my God,” I murmur again, squeezing my eyes shut. Working at the top defense firm in the state has been Chad’s goal since before we even started school.
He’s going to be devastated
.

Merica looks down at her phone again. “Rachel says they’re reopening the road, but Chad’s truck looks like it’s totaled.” She glances over to me. “Wasn’t he supposed to help you move your stuff into storage tomorrow?”

“That’s the least important thing anyone needs to worry about right now.” As much as I’m SOL, I can’t be upset that my moving assistance just went out the window because Chad’s future at stake is a way bigger deal.

“Maybe Rachel got it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t them? And what about Chris? No one has any word on him? This could all be a mix-up.” I’m scrambling for some other alternative.

James, a guy in our Evidence class, comes up to the table and holds out his phone. “Did you hear about Chad and Chris? Check out this picture of his truck. Totally crushed. I heard some asshole ran a red light, tagged his bumper, so he spun out and hit a telephone pole, and the person didn’t even stop. Unbelievable. That was a sweet ride after he lifted it.”

Any hope of Rachel being a typical girl and thinking all pickup trucks look exactly the same disappears. It’s definitely Chad’s truck.

Sadness and anger shove aside the panic.
Why would he drive drunk? How could he take the chance?

“I wonder who he’s going to call for bail if they throw him in the drunk tank.” The speculation comes from James.

“His girlfriend will bail him out.” I offer up the information quietly. They’ve been together since high school, so I know she’ll be there for him. But what about after? His job . . . his future . . .

“Why was he even driving?” Merica asks.

James shrugs. “He didn’t want to leave his truck in the parking lot overnight. He only had maybe four or five beers. I’ve seen him drink way more and still act totally sober. That’s some shit luck, though. If someone hadn’t hit them, I bet they’d be home already.”

Shit luck and bad judgment.
Chad, what were you thinking?

“This sucks all around. Now his entire future could be fucked, and you’ve got no one to help you move.” Merica looks from me to James. “What do you drive?”

“A Harley. Which you’d know if you ever let me take you out.”

Merica rolls her eyes. “I have a boyfriend. Not happening. Also, your timing sucks.”

Everything about this sucks, and I’m so freaking pissed at Chad.
Why would he take the chance?
We all have too much at stake to take chances like that.

James opens his mouth to reply to Merica, but a familiar voice rumbles from behind me.

“You need help moving?”

I force myself not to turn around when the heat from Ryker’s body registers against my back.

I can practically feel the sudden change in the air now that he is present. It’s like the alpha wolf showed up to the discussion.

Always looking out for me, Merica turns her focus on Ryker. “Do you have a truck?”

Oh, hell no.
I want to slap a hand over my best friend’s mouth, but even that wouldn’t pull back the question.

“My old man has a truck we use for deer camp. It’s at my parents’ house, and they only live a few miles from campus.”

It’s crazy to hear Ryker refer to his father as his
old man
because he’s a state supreme court justice, not just some dad who works a regular nine-to-five. Also, he was my boss for the last four and a half months during my externship at the court.

To this day, I’m shocked Ryker didn’t show up in his father’s chambers while I was working. Either he didn’t know or he considered that venue off-limits—I have no idea which.

Ryker’s hand lands on my hip and squeezes before he turns me around to face him. All thoughts of his dad and Chad fall away when those blue eyes pierce me with a direct stare.

“Then you can totally help Justine move tomorrow.” Merica’s words are bubbly with triumph. No doubt she sees this as a case of life closing a door but opening a window.

“You need my help?” Ryker asks, never breaking eye contact with me.

“If she says no, she’s lying,” Merica offers unhelpfully.

I have to get out of this conversation before I cave and accept his help. I also need to escape to go call Katie, Chad’s girlfriend, and get the scoop on what’s happening and see if I can help.

I sidestep Ryker’s hold and announce, “I have to pee.”

Merica gives me a look that clearly says
are you kidding me?

I ignore it. “I’ll be right back.”

Turning, I head for the back of the bar and the restrooms. As I walk, I mentally flip through my list of options for moving help. I come to a screeching halt because, oh wait, that’s right, I don’t have any other options. Chad was helping me out because he’s a good guy and I’ve known him forever.
And now he’s screwed.
My stomach twists with sympathy and disappointment and anger.

I try Katie’s phone as I walk through the bar. It goes straight to voice mail four times before I give up. I hope to hell they figure this out. As much as I wish there was something I could do to help, I’m coming up empty.

As I stare into the bathroom mirror, the liquor hits me hard.

I’m drunk.
And I need to get home.

Pushing open the bathroom door, I keep my eyes trained on my feet so as not to pitch forward on my now-treacherous heels.

“Oomph.” I run into a wall.

Except it’s not a wall, because it wraps two hands around my hips. My palms go to his chest, and my apology is halfway out before I realize it’s Ryker and he’s backing me into the corner of the dark hallway.

“What are you doing?” My back meets the wall and I’m trapped. Where’s my fight-or-flight reaction? Where is the panic I should be feeling?

Instead, heat flares in my belly as he places one hand against the wall, next to my head.

“We weren’t done with our conversation.”

“Sure, we were.” My words are steady but my heart pounds so hard in my chest, I’m sure he can feel it.

“You didn’t answer my question. You need help, Justine?”

With everything that I am, I want to say no. But some shred of practicality rises up and fuels my words. “Yes.”

“Then why are you running away?”

“I’m not running.”

He leans closer to whisper in my ear. “Bullshit.”

Pulling back just enough for me to see his face, I swallow. “Fine, you win. I wish I didn’t need your help.”
How’s that for honesty?

A smug smile slides over his face. “Why? You afraid of what it’s gonna cost?”

Of course he would put a price on everything. “How much?”

“Not a dime. Just a kiss and a date.”

The order throws me off. “I told you, I’m leaving tomorrow—”

“A date next semester. The kiss is payment up front. Right here, right now.”

I wish I could say the heat burning low in my belly is anger, but I’d be a liar. As his lips lower toward mine, alarm bells clang in my head. I should stop him. This is by far the worst idea ever.

But my body stays frozen in place, and my lips part as he brushes his across them.

Oh. My. Hell. Ryker Grant is kissing me.
My mouth molds to his and my body curls into him.

Oh shit. I’m kissing him back
.

Then all the sounds in my head are drowned out by the sheer force of the sensations rocking my body. My nipples pucker hard against his chest, and my hands grip his shirt as though I’m trying not to lose my grip on reality.

His lips take and take, parting mine further until his tongue slips inside and I get my first taste of Ryker.

He tastes even better than he smells.

His hand slides down to cup my ass, and through the thin fabric of the short skirt, I can feel the pads of each finger make contact. He squeezes my cheeks and guides one of my legs to wrap around his hip.

My body sighs at the contact, and it takes me a moment to realize the bulge pressing into me is his erection. And it’s just as huge as it looked, except now it’s even harder. My clit wakes up from hibernation, and I can’t help but rock my hips against him.

All rational thought leaves my brain as a zing of sensation shoots from my clit to my nipples and lights up the pleasure center in my brain.
Oh my God, that feels so good.

He groans into my mouth, gripping my ass harder, pulling me into him. My panties are soaked, but I keep rocking.

Ryker buries his other hand in my hair, and the change in angle intensifies the friction on my clit.

I’m going to come.
I freeze when the realization hits me.
Right here. In a bar.
Rubbing against Ryker Grant
. I should feel humiliated, but I can’t stop myself from sliding over the edge.

Curling my fingers into his shoulders, I tense as the orgasm bursts through me. My moan is muffled by his mouth because he doesn’t slow his kiss. The bathroom door swings open just beyond us, and reality intrudes in the form of chattering drunk girls stumbling back toward the bar. I push off Ryker’s chest, desperate to put space between us.

I can’t believe that just happened.
Thankful for the dark corner, I know my face is burning red.

“Did you just—”

Slapping a hand over my face, I speak through it. “This never happened. None of it. Please, for the love of anything that’s holy, don’t ever mention this moment again.”

His head drops to my shoulder, and his voice turns husky. “This was hot as fuck. I may not mention it, but there’s no way in hell I won’t be thinking about it.”

“Please let me go.”

Thankfully, Ryker steps back, and I hurry out of the corner, heading for the bar.

“Wait, I need your address.”

I slow, not turning around as I rattle it off. I have to get out of here before I do something even worse.

“See you at nine,” he calls as I hurry away.

Justine

His mouth on mine.

His hand between my legs.

Wet. Hot. Aching.

I need more. I want more.

Blue eyes burn into mine. “I’ve been waiting so long to have you under me.”

My alarm clock jerks me awake and the dream fades away, but my thudding heart remains, along with my wet panties.

I slap the top of the alarm on my side table to turn it off and yank the covers up over my head. I just had a sex dream. About Ryker Grant. Even the headache lurking in my temple doesn’t stop me from wanting to finish the job Dream Ryker started.

I can’t face him today. How am I ever going to look him in those icy blue eyes and not remember just how good it felt to be pressed against him?

Stop thinking about it.

I’ve needed to resist him for two years, and there’s no reason I can’t make it through one more day.
No distractions.

No matter how good that distraction can kiss.

Three hours later, it’s clear that I’m not going to need any willpower to resist him, because Ryker is late.

An hour late.

As I sit on the stoop of my apartment building waiting for the promised pickup truck to arrive, all my concerns from earlier this morning are brushed away.

I knew it. I
knew
he was just in it for the chase, and the humiliation that I was right burns hot. Not only did Ryker get a taste of what he claimed to want so badly, but he decided that taste wasn’t good enough for seconds.

Douche bag.

Why didn’t I trust my instincts? I knew this would happen. So freaking typical. Apparently I should have held out until after he helped me, because now I’m not worth the trouble.