Page 48 of Against The Rules

“Savannah isn’t dressed for sight-seeing,” Tyler growls.

I blink, heat spreading furiously across my cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” his mom asks, frowning at him. “She looks adorable.”

“It’s my shoes,” I say, and it comes out weird and throaty, because I swear to god, I’m still having trouble thinking about anything but how badly I wanted Ty to touch me.

“That’s right. She nearly sprained her ankle walking around out here.”

“Oh, no, honey, I’m sorry,” Ty’s mom says, concern on her face as she stares at my shoes. “They are a little high, aren’t they?”

They’re not, not really, but I make myself nod. “Yeah, I definitely didn’t wear the right shoes. But thank you so much for inviting me. I really enjoyed meeting you this morning.”

“Not as much as I did you,” she says, looking so thrilled that fresh guilt rips through me. “We’re just so pleased Tyler is finally dating someone so lovely.”

“Oh.” I’m at a loss for words. “Thank you,” I manage.

Lying to his mom feels really shitty.

“Well, I hope we’ll see you again. It’s so nice to see Tyler so happy.”

I try to keep the smile on my face. A lifetime of competitive dancing should have made that easy, but I’m usually not feeling guilty as all hell while pirouetting.

“You two have a good day, we’ll think of you when we’re having fun downtown. Make good choices!” She gives us an awkward little wave, then pads back down the path.

I sag as she finally disappears from view.

Tyler takes a step towards me, but I put a hand up, keeping him at a reasonable distance.

“I—” My voice breaks and he moves to touch me, but I step out of reach. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“What, take the grand tour of my house?” His voice is strained.

I shake my head, too hard, more hair falling out of my low bun.

His hands brush against my cheekbones, tucking my hair behind my ears. “What can’t you do?”

“I don’t like lying,” I say, blinking up at him. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t like being with me, standing with me under these trees?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Ty.”

“You don’t like me touching you?”

His fingers trace my jawline, skimming the delicate skin of my neck, and I bite back a gasp. “I can tell you like me touching you. Everything about you changes when my hands are on you. Like you can’t get enough.”

“I like it when you touch me,” I tell him, unable to look away from him, even though I know this is leading to a place I might regret. A place that might get me hurt.

“Good,” he says, and his dimples flash again, his handsome face softened by his gorgeous smile. “That’s good. Because I fucking love touching you. I don’t want to stop touching you.”

My eyes close as his lips touch my forehead, pressing the lightest and sweetest of kisses there, the bridge of my nose.

My left cheek. My right.

My heart’s hammering so loudly in my chest, I can’t think straight. I can’t think past the need that’s resurfaced ten times hotter than ever.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his gaze searching, flitting between my eyes. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

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