Page 52 of Against The Rules

Slight embarrassment creeps through me, along with a feeling of vulnerability. “You want me to be your girlfriend,” I say, emphasizing the word ‘girl’ and giving his hand a squeeze. “Doesn’t that mean things like knowing why you have an old football in glass in your room?”

“For the record,” he raises an eyebrow at me, “none of the women I’ve brought up here have ever given a damn about a dirty football on my shelf. They knew I played football and that was explanation enough.”

“Oh? Is that it?” I try not to dwell on the fact other women have been up here. Of course they have. Being a party boy is part of Ty’s brand. Another reason we’ll never have a normal relationship.

“You’re jealous.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

His dimples show up in full force again. “The football was from a clinic I helped run in college. For kids. It was such a fun week. Those are their signatures.” He jerks his head at the football on his shelf.

“Whenever I have a shitty game, or get hurt, or am frustrated by the way I’ve played, I can look at that football, with all those kids’ names on it, and it reminds how lucky I am. How grateful I should be.”

I blink.

I wasn’t expecting that.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” I say softly, clutching him to me.

“Nah, Peaches, you haven’t.”

“Oh? Did you want to show me the rest of your collection of…” I steal a glance behind me. “James Patterson books?”

“They’re classics,” he tells me loftily, and I huff a laugh.

“They’re entertaining,” I agree.

“You know what else is entertaining?” he asks.

“Football?” I guess, but from the predatory smile on his face, I know that’s not the answer he’s looking for.

“Making you come.”

Oh, shit.

I exhale noisily, and when he laughs at the flustered expression on my face, I roll my eyes and sigh.

“See? Not sexy.”

“I disagree.”

The way he’s looking at me, like I’m a present on Christmas morning and he can’t wait to unwrap me… makes me think he might be telling the truth.

“Kiss me,” I demand, unwilling to wait for one more second.

“Is that a yes?”

“At this point, if you don’t make me come, I’m filing for divorce. Irreconcilable differences."

His eyes flash, all his focus on me, like I’ve just upped the stakes. I swallow.

Tyler Matthews is a lot of man.

“Well, then,” he all but purrs. “We’ll have to make sure you don’t leave this bedroom until you are very, very satisfied.”

Whatever I’m about to say is cut off by his mouth on mine, by one hand cupping my face, by the other around my back.

God, his body feels so amazing. He’s pure muscle, so strong, made twice as evident when he picks me up with one arm and walks me over to his bed, still kissing me furiously, like a man dying and I’m the only cure.

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