“Jenna,” I say, soft but firm. “I’m taking you home.”
There’s a beat where she searches my face, maybe looking for an argument. She doesn’t find one.
“Okay,” she whispers, sliding her hand into mine.
Her fingers are small and slender, fitting against my palm like they’re meant to be there. I curl my hand gently around hers and help her stand. She sways a little, stepping closer to steady herself. Instinct kicks in and my arm goes around her waist, pulling her into my side.
“Easy, Princess,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”
She exhales, leaning into me. “You really do have that Daddy energy,” she slurs under her breath.
I swallow a laugh. “Let’s get outta here.”
Marcus catches my eye as we pass the pool tables, his expression asking a silent question. I nod once, and he understands.
“Text me when you get there,” Paige calls after us, pointing two fingers from her eyes to mine like I’m under surveillance.
“I’ll make sure she does,” I reply.
Outside, the air is cooler, the night quieter. I walk Jenna to my vehicle—a black SUV parked at the curb—and open the passenger door for her.
“Whoa,” she says, blinking at it. “Fancy.”
“It’s just a car,” I say, helping her inside. She moves carefully, like the world is tilting at an angle, and once she’s in the seat, I reach across her to grab the belt.
She goes still. For a second, we’re nose to nose. Her breath fans warm across my jaw, her gaze flicking from my mouth to my eyes and back again.
I click the buckle into place. “There,” I say quietly. “Good girls wear their seat belts.”
A flush creeps up her neck, disappearing under the collar of her sweater. “You’re very bossy, you know that?”
“I know, Princess. Get used to it.”
I gently close her door before I can second-guess why that felt like a promise. Why it felt like this one night won’t be our last together.
The drive to her place is short, muscle memory guiding me through the familiar streets of our small town. Maple Ridge hasn’t changed that much since high school, just a few new storefronts, a fresh coat of paint here and there. But the girl in my passenger seat? She’s different. Softer in some places, sharper in others. More real and vulnerable than she’s ever been.
Halfway to our destination, I glance over. Jenna’s head is tipped back against the headrest, her eyes closed and her lashes resting on her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, a faint line of tension between her brows. Like even in sleep, she can’t quite relax.
“You doing okay?” I ask her.
“Mhm,” she hums, not opening her eyes. “You smell like yummy candy.”
I chuckle to myself. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”
“I like it. Smells nice,” she murmurs.
My grip tightens slightly on the wheel when my dick twitches in my jeans. “Thanks.”
Her house is exactly where I remember it being from driving past a hundred times over the years. The porch light is on and there’s a seasonal wreath hanging on the door. It’s just the way it was when her parents lived here before they moved somewhere farther south. I park and get out, rounding the car to help Jenna.
She’s more awake now, but still unsteady when she steps down. I slide an arm around her again, my hand splaying low on her back.
“Okay?” I ask.
“You keep asking that,” she says, but there’s no bite to it. “You’re very attentive.”
“I’m very not letting you face-plant on your front lawn,” I correct.
