Page 29 of Against The Rules

“Yes,” he says, and then his mouth is on mine and I’m not laughing anymore.

I’m lost.

Because Tyler Matthews kisses like the world’s on fire and I want to burn with him. His arms soften around my body, his hands stroking expertly up and down my spine, goosebumps chasing after them.

His lips are demanding and soft all at once, and fireworks explode through my body, the overwhelming experience of being kissed by him breaking through all my walls, all my reason. I melt into him, savoring the feel of his arms around me, the gentle rasp of his beard on my chin, the way I feel as he kisses me.

Wanted. Safe.

When I moan into his mouth, his hands tighten on my hips and need surges through me, my tongue chasing his. I want more.

I should absolutely not want more.

This is bad. This is so bad.

I pull away, my chest heaving, my hands against his pecs, and I try to catch my breath, staring up at him in shock and awe.

It’s one thing to pretend to date the man you accidentally married in Vegas.

It’s another thing entirely to start to fall for him.

“That was—” he shakes his head, cutting off his own words.

I don’t want to know what it was. I don’t want to hear him say anything at all. I want to hold onto the memory of this kiss and lock it up tight inside me and then pretend it never happened.

“We can’t.” I shake my own head, stepping away from him. The fresh scent of his soap is going to be forever embedded in my memory, and I take another step away, trying to break loose from the weird hold he has on me. “We shouldn’t do this. We should get it annulled.”

A strange expression crosses over his handsome features, gone before I can identify it. I’m too freaked out to look too closely at him.

“This is a bad idea.” I say out loud, as though I can convince myself the more I say it, the more true it is, because deep down, all I feel right now… is want.

I want his arms around me. I want his mouth on mine. I want to see what else he can do with it.

I gather my courage and stare into his eyes, thrusting my chin up defiantly.

“You getting out of that job you hate is a bad idea? You starting your business and then getting a nice divorce settlement is a bad idea? Me convincing my parents I’m not a fuck-up is a bad idea?”

“You’re not a fuck-up,” I say, and the strength of the statement catches us both off guard.

“How can you say that?” he asks, and though the question is soft, there’s a dangerous undercurrent to it that makes me blink twice.

He takes a step towards me, and it feels like a test to see if I’ll run.

I don’t. I stand my ground, and I watch him carefully.

“How can you say that?” he repeats, and this time, there’s no mistaking the loathing that fills his words. “You said yourself that you read about me and my brother. You already know my parents think I’m an idiot, that’s why I need you to help me. Obviously, everyone else knows I’m a fuck-up already.”

“I don’t,” I say quietly, and I mean it.

His frown softens, and some of that anger disappears, the veneer of carelessness returning as he smiles at me. There’s an edge to it I see now, like it’s brittle and might break at any moment.

Ty Matthews isn’t the fuckboy everyone seems to think he is. He’s not even remotely stupid, like he seems to think he is.

He’s human and flawed and hurting, and it makes me want to help him.

It makes me want to hold him.

“We’ll do it,” I tell him. “We’ll start my business, and we’ll convince your parents, and everyone else, of how awesome you are.” Including you, I almost add. “But no one else will find out about us.”

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