Page 79 of By His Rule

“Now, if you…” I take control of her movement and lower her hand to the container sitting in her lap. “That’s it. Got it?”

She nods. The movement is so slight that I wouldn’t see it if I weren’t so close.

“Now, lift it and—” I swallow thickly as we push the food into her mouth and her full lips close around the chopsticks.

“That wasn’t so hard,” she says before glancing back at me over her shoulder.

“N-no, not hard at all,” I mutter before shifting to my side of the couch and turning my attention back to the sweet and sour pork I should be eating.

No more words are said as the game continues playing on the TV, the air so thick around us it’s hard to draw in a breath let alone eat.

Thanks to her little celebration earlier, I’ve figured out that her little brother must be number thirteen, Kemp.

He’s good. Really good.

“Does your brother want to go pro?” I ask when I’m confident I can speak without my voice sounding all desperate and pathetic.

“Yeah,” Lorelei muses, keeping her eyes on the screen, watching as her brother calls a play. “That’s his plan, anyway. He’s got scouts watching this game. He’s nervous as fuck.”

“He isn’t showing it.”

“Knew he wouldn’t. He was born to do this.”

I nod, watching the play he called turn into a seamless touchdown.

A wave of nostalgia hits me from watching every single high school game Kieran played back in the day.

“He’s important to you,” I state. It’s not a question—it doesn’t need to be. Love and pride ooze from her.

“He’s my little brother. Of course.” She glances at me briefly, and for the first time, I realize that her guard is down.

If it’s possible, she’s even more breathtaking.

“Annoying little shits, aren’t they?” I joke.

She laughs, and it’s light and genuine in a way that makes my chest contract.

“Yeah,” she agrees before we both fall silent again as we watch his team obliterate the opposition.

“He should be really proud of that performance,” I say, breaking our stalemate once the final whistle blows and his team piles themselves on top of him in celebration.

“He’s meant to call me, but?—”

“He’ll forget in favor of celebrating?” I guess.

“Yeah. He’s a little wild. Works hard and parties harder.”

I smirk. I know it well. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“I don’t want to be an auntie yet,” she says under her breath.

“I think you’ll be okay. He looks like he has his head screwed on. He just commanded that entire game and barely broke a sweat. He’s not gonna risk screwing up his future.”

Abandoning her food container on the coffee table, she turns to look at me.

Her lips part, but for a few seconds, no words spill free. She studies me in a way she hasn’t before, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s seeing something different, just like I am with her.

“I hope you’re right,” she says before she begins tidying up. “We should probably carry on or we’ll still be here doing this in the morning.”

---