“I’m not an expert on anything,” he says with a laugh, letting his gaze drop to where her legs press together. He looks back up in time to see her flip her hair over a shoulder and look at him with big eyes. She looks about a second away from batting her eyelashes and Steve may not be an expert, but he knows what flirting looks like.

“Speaking of positioning yourself,” he says in a low, amused tone, letting his gaze sweep over her. He did draw a line for himself, and he’s so close to crossing it. But what were the terms, really? Did he ever actually define them for himself? Don’t fuck her until she’s eighteen. Okay, great. He won’t fuck her.

But there’s a whole lot of wiggle room between nothing and fucking.

Steve grabs her by the hips and tugs her forward until she’s half-splayed across his lap, bringing their faces close together.

“We could toe the line,” he says, leaning in to let his lips brush against her cheek. “Get real close to it.”

Fuck it. It’s nine days.