Page 77 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“You said we could go back to the way things were if this didn’t work out. You said there would be no hard feelings.”

He raked a hand through his hair and heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do you want to go back to the way things were before?”

I frowned at the question. Did he think he was doing me a favor?

“Not with that attitude, I don’t. Plus, don’t forget, I have all my flaws.” Darn, that flaw thing had finally bared its fangs.

“That’s right,” he said in a gruff voice as he bent into my face. “Because this time, I won’t be gentle, Thomas. I will fuck you hard, complete with all your flaws.”

I lurched backward, and it took me a moment too long to gather my wits. He was already reveling in the knowledge of having rattled me.

I fumed, my forehead deeply furrowed. “Is that a threat or a dare? Because I don’t bow down to either. Come back, and we’ll see who does that to whom.”

He capitalized on the smug smile that had already made a home on his lips. “You can’t even say the word, Thomas. It doesn’t take a genius to know who’s fucking whom.”

I pulled myself upright, nose high with righteousness. “I can say it. I choose not to.”

He put his hand on the thick wood and said in his deep voice. “I’ll be back in an hour. Keep the lights on and prepare yourself to lose gracefully.”

With my heart bubbling with hope, I slammed the door on his back.

RULE #7

Do not try to douse fire

with flammable substances.

SONA

Iwanted him to come back, and if my experience with him had taught me anything, it was that he was a man of his word. He had proved that over and over again.

So I prepared myself, physically and emotionally—not that I was complaining. Of course not. I was looking forward to being in his arms again.

I removed the full-skirt lehenga I was wearing before I cleaned, washed, and rinsed. I considered changing, but I wanted it to be a chore for him to get me naked, so instead of slipping into something comfortable, I put my lehenga back on, draping the dupatta. It wasn’t perfect, but there were enough pins to delay his gratification, pun intended.

After about forty-five minutes, there was a knock on my door. My heart thumped.

“It’s me,” he said when I stepped closer to the door, wary.

His words, his voice, sent a thrill up and down my body, and I found myself getting ready for him a little too eagerly. I opened it, and he stood there with a determined face, hands planted on the doorjamb.

“Do you really want to do this?” he asked.

“If you want it too. If not, I’m happy to call it off. It’s not as if I’m dying to do it.”

That was a blatant lie. I was. I really was. I had dreamed about it all day—peeling that rich green and gold sherwani off his sculpted body, running my fingers over his smooth torso, all the way to the delectable dip in his hipbone…

“Then let’s do it,” he said as if it were a business deal.

My eyes focused back on his face. I responded with a haughty sniff. “Do you want to come in or just have a verbal duel across the threshold?”

He stepped in.

“Did your parents get home okay? It was a long day. They must’ve been tired.”

“My parents are my responsibility. You needn’t concern yourself with them,” he said with a huff.

I turned on my heel and planted a strong hand on his chest. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mihir Seth. Whatever the equation between us, I will always care about your parents, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. You get that? My relationship with them is my own, irrespective of you. Irrespective of us.”

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