Page 23 of Against The Rules

A little moan escapes my mouth before I can reel it back in.

I love sushi.

CHAPTER 10

TYLER

I have a hard-on from watching Savannah eat a piece of sushi. When her eyes rolled back in her head, the expression of pure bliss on her face alone would have been enough to get my cock standing at full attention.

But then she went and fucking moaned, and now all I can think about is getting her to make that noise again.

“Good?” I ask, and my voice is hoarse. Deeper than usual.

Her eyes open and she nods once, a shy smile turning up her lips as she chews slowly. I can’t tear my attention away from her, watching the smooth column of her throat bob as she swallows.

“So good,” she says. “I’ll regret it on weigh-in day, but—”

“Weigh-in day?” I ask, bemused, helping myself to some of the spider roll. Maybe trying to shove the softshell crab into my mouth will distract me from her soft noises of pleasure.

Maybe I should just fucking toss all the food off the table and see how many little noises I can wring from her mouth.

“Ugh, yeah. We have to be within three pounds of the cheer team’s goal weight.”

“Wait, what?”

She blinks up at me, dipping the ends of her chopsticks into some of the ginger dressing. “What do you mean, what?”

“The cheer team makes you weigh in?” My nose wrinkles, because that seems fucked up, not that I know shit about pro cheer other than I very much want to see just how flexible Savannah would be underneath me.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” she says, eating a tiny piece of lettuce. “It’s an honor to be on the cheer team. It’s all worth it, you know?”

I squint at her because the sentiment is icy. Hollow. But the next second she’s smiling, all warm and gorgeous, and I must have imagined it.

“Making weight can be rough,” I say carefully. “I’ve had to put on weight to play other positions before and it sucks.”

“Yeah, putting on weight, that’s not the problem.” She laughs, and I know I’m not imagining the brittle quality to it. “You know, I still can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, but tension knots my back.

“I mean, you’re kind of famous, right? You and your brother. The Hot Dams have all kinds of weird fan cuts of you two. He’s the angel, you’re the devil, that kind of stuff.”

She’s not watching me, methodically plowing through the salad, but disappointment fills me all the same. Savannah doesn’t know how much I fucking hate that.

Why should she?

Didn’t I just fuck up again by marrying her and then by coercing her into staying married to me?

“Don’t believe everything you see on social media.”

She looks up, and I wink at her.

“Does that mean you’re not the evil brother?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent, with a smile so fucking charming that I know, without a doubt, everything I want from her is anything but angelic.

“Depends on what you want.”

She laughs. “What I want? I want to not get kicked off the cheer team for this. I want them to stop telling me I’m not sexy… I want to get out of my job I hate and do the things I love.”

“So show me your art,” I tell her. “How are you going to make a business of it if you can’t even show your husband?” I wink at her again, knowing I’m laying it on thick.

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