Page 54 of Against The Rules

“Take it off.”

“Not yet,” he says, grinning, then sets his mouth back on me, and good. Fine. That’s good too. I want to touch him, but I can hardly think straight.

“Come for me, Savannah. Come in my mouth.”

His fingers fill me, his mouth working my clit. I can’t speak. I can’t think.

It feels so good.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and that’s the last thing I hear before I come so hard I’m practically sobbing with relief.

I lie there, limp.

Tyler pulls his shirt over his head, and I stare.

“Wow.” It’s one syllable, and it about sums it up. Works for me.

“What, this old thing?” He laughs, then smooths a hand down his own chest.

I crack a smile, sleepy and relaxed despite all the coffee I drank at brunch.

“Or do you mean what I just did?” His smile is wicked, and when he licks his lips, I shiver, desire building deep in me again. “You tasted even better than I imagined, Peaches.”

“Come here.” I crook a finger, and he lowers himself slowly over me, all his muscles flexing. “Show-off.”

“Please.” He grins, then kisses my temple. “I saw you shaking your ass yesterday. You’re the show-off.”

I squint at him, unsure what to make of that. “I was just doing my job.”

A frown turns his lips down, and he brushes his fingers through my hair, his muscles all still on delicious display. “I know. I didn’t mean anything by that… just that you looked amazing.”

I soften a little, grinning up at him.

He plants a kiss at the right corner of my mouth, then the left, and when he kisses me full on the lips, I exhale, tasting myself on him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and when he says it like that, I believe him.

“You’re pretty good-looking too,” I say.

“I know.” He winks at me and I laugh, playfully slapping his rock-hard arm.

“Arrogant.”

“Why make apologies for what I am? Saves us both effort if I acknowledge my male perfection.”

I snort. It’s a joke, I know now, but I see underneath it, too. Especially after seeing how his family treats him.

He doesn’t think he’s perfect. Not even close. Why else would I be here right now, married to him? Pretending I’m only his girlfriend, not his accidental wife.

“Hey,” I say softly, and he rolls to the side, tucking me into his body. I fling my leg over his hip, my dress all bunched up around my waist still. I stroke the side of his face, staring into his deep brown eyes. His beard is soft and short under my fingertips, and I take my time, learning the contours of his jaw. “You’re not who they say you are. Only you get to decide who you are. You’re the storyteller of your own life.”

He goes still, the smile melting from his mouth. Sighing, he rolls over all the way to his back, and we lie like that, tangled together, for a few minutes.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I finally say, feeling stupid.

“I know,” he says, but he gets up slowly, pulling his shirt back on, all that glorious skin disappearing under it.

Frustration pours through me, followed by confusion. What did I say wrong?

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