Page 46 of Against The Rules

“Six… in the morning.”

“Right. Okay. No wonder Tyler talked you into this.”

“You can make fun of cheerleaders all you want,” I say, annoyed all over again, “but don’t forget what he wanted from me—for you and your parents to stop treating him like garbage. What’s worse? Needing money? Or letting you put me down over it right now, just like you always do to him?”

“Jesus, Savannah,” Tyler says, draping his arm around my hips and pulling me close. “It’s okay, Peaches.” His thumb rubs a line over my hip and a small sigh comes out of my mouth, unbidden.

Jacob’s eyebrows are sky-high. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but something feral in my expression must put him off, because he just shakes his head and continues down the shade-dappled path.

Tyler and I watch him walk away.

“That could have gone better,” Tyler says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m sorry, Peaches. He can be an asshole. I should have warned you.”

I swallow, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, shifting in the short grass. “I was kind of an asshole too.”

“Nah,” he grins at me, and it’s dazzling. Or maybe it’s his insanely sculpted bicep still stretched over his head. A blue and green bruise mottles his tanned skin, and I frown at it.

“What’s that?” I ask, stepping closer.

“The body of a god,” he says, but the slight widening of his eyes belies his cocky words.

Heat rushes through me, but I make myself frown at him. Nope. I’m not going to be charmed by Tyler Matthews. I’m already in way too deep.

“The bruise. It looks like it hurts.” I point at it, and he follows the direction of my gaze, dropping his arm.

“It’s nothing. It’s just a little battle trophy from the game yesterday.”

“Did you ice it?” I ask, mostly out of curiosity. He acts so tough, but there’s no way a bruise that size doesn’t hurt. “You should ice it.”

Tyler steps closer to me. I suck in a low breath, trying to keep my equilibrium.

“Are you worried about me, Peaches?” His voice is low, and though the question should be teasing, could be light, it’s not.

The air between us turns electric.

“It wouldn’t be the smartest move to want my business partner to be in pain,” I say, shooting for off-hand but landing firmly in a breathy whisper.

He inches closer so close I can smell the coffee on him, and something else: fresh and masculine and delicious.

“Is that right? Your business partner?”

“Mm-hmmm, yep.” I nod, or try to, but he catches my chin in his fingers.

I go stock still.

“I think you like being partners with me, Peaches.”

“Stop calling me that,” I say primly.

“Nah, I think you like that too. Besides, it suits you.”

“Please. How in the world does it suit me?” I snort, really laughing this time, and his eyes crinkle at the corners, dimples showing up in full force.

He runs his hands down my back, slowly, starting at my semi-bare shoulders, then dipping lower, tantalizing. I can’t take my eyes off him. My brain is screaming that letting him touch me is a mistake, but my body is all too happy to tell my brain to shut up.

It feels good.

No… he feels incredible. His hands are warm and strong and the closer he gets to me, the safer I feel. The more wanted I feel.

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