Uncomfortable, Undone University Series, Book 1

Chapter 5

FIVE

Jace

If I had known that Krystal was Jameson's new girl's friend and would be my date for the evening, I probably would have bowed out of tonight, asked Jameson to find someone else or even cancel. I don't have anything against the girl, but even if I were dating right now, which I'm most definitely not, it wouldn't be with her. Ever since we picked her and Miranda up from their dorm, Krystal has been a bundle of nervous energy. She's high strung, like a chihuahua. And those little monsters bite. She probably does too.

Despite my brain telling me to stay away from her, though, my body finds her unfathomably attractive. When I first spied her walking toward Jameson's SUV in that filmy white dress, my dick responded immediately, and sitting next to her in the backseat was tantamount to torture. I'd rather be waterboarded.

She isn't wearing perfume, I don't think, and the fruity coconut smell of her shampoo fills the air with the subtle scents of a beach vacation, which of course makes me think of her in a bikini.

My one comfort during the trip to the restaurant is that she seems equally as uncomfortable as I am. Maybe even more so. And we spend the majority of the ten-minute trek in silence while Jameson and Miranda converse and banter comfortably in the front seat.

Ambrosia's is packed tonight, and we have to wait in a line of cars for several minutes before one of the valets is available to take the SUV to park. As soon as I see one heading toward us, I climb out of the vehicle and circle around the back of it to Krystal's side, then open her door for her. She swings her legs to the side and starts a graceful slide off the seat, toes stretching toward the ground, but not quite reaching.

Her skirt, bunched up underneath her, starts to ride up with the movement, climbing higher on her hip the lower her body sinks off the seat. Too late, she realizes she's about to flash everyone around us and reaches for her skirt. I step directly in front of her, pulling the car door with me, doing my best to protect her from any roving eyes of other guests, while also averting my gaze. Not that I don't want to see what's under that dress. I'm just not into peeping on a girl who hasn't invited my attention. And the way Krystal is scrambling to cover herself makes it clear she most definitely does not want to be on display right now. So, I respect that, and keep my eyes averted until I hear a soft, "Thank you."

When I look down, Krystal is standing demurely in front of me, perfectly composed and dress in perfect order. Her cheeks are pink, and she isn't meeting my gaze, but when I hold out an arm to her, the same way that I did when walking her home the other night, she takes it. We're barely three steps away from the car when she makes a quiet, "oomph," sound, and her weight pulls on my arm. She stumbles, and in the heartbeat before she pitches forward onto the pavement, I manage to grab her, steady her. It isn't until she is stable on her impossibly tall heels that I realize I have a handful of boob. I'm cupping her left breast intimately. It fits perfectly in my hand, and she's not wearing a bra under all that sheer material, as evidenced by the peaked nipple brushing my palm. Any other time, I'd love to have a gorgeous woman's breasts in my hands, but this is not the time, not the place, not the woman. I draw my hand back as if I've been burned by the touch. In a way I have. I can still feel the weight of her flesh in my palm, the press of her nipple against my skin.

I stuff my hand in my pocket, and clench it into a fist to try to dispel the sensation of touching her. Jameson is slower coming to the passenger side of the vehicle, having facilitated the vehicle's handoff to the valet, so he and Miranda are a few paces behind us, and hopefully didn't catch any of what just happened. Opening the door of the restaurant, I stand back to let everyone else in, and an older couple out. Then I step into the lobby behind my friends. Jameson is already at the reception podium, giving his name. A young host with short dark hair grabs a stack of menus, and in a voice that is deceptively deep for a guy who looks like he's about thirteen says, "Right this way."