Page 92 of By His Rule

He might have gone out, evidenced by some of the selfies he sent me during the evening, but he didn’t forget about me.

I’m not sure if he was keeping me on the back burner in case he didn’t have other options or what, but he’d thoroughly reeled me in, and I couldn’t switch off despite knowing better.

As it turned out, he didn’t hook-up, and he went home alone. Well…not entirely alone. I was happily burning up his messages by that point.

I stretch as I walk into my bathroom, feeling pretty sated despite spending the night in bed by myself.

Tate was right; Ryder is what I need in my life for a little stress relief right now.

Feeling inspired and full of life, instead of starting the coffee machine and curling myself up on the couch to laze Sunday away, I pull on a sports bra, a pair of leggings, and throw my hair up into a messy bun.

I haven’t been running properly since Matt and I started getting serious. Any spare time I had, I was spending with him. And my exercise was courtesy of him as well.

The pain of the breakup threatens, but I stretch my neck out and force it down.

Being sad over that lying piece of shit is a waste of time.

Instead, I need to be focusing on myself. That is a much healthier way of dealing with everything.

With my cell strapped to my upper arm and my earbuds firmly in place, I close the front door behind me and take off.

It’s a beautiful fall day outside, and I feel better about my life every time my foot hits the sidewalk.

Considering how little I’ve exercised in the past few months, I find my stride easily, and I soon discover that I’ve run farther than I anticipated.

When I find a coffee shop with a free seat outside, I order myself an iced latte and a panini and continue with my self-care day.

It’s perfect.

Tate was right. I just needed a bloody good orgasm to fix me right up. Sure, she was expecting it to be delivered by a man and not my favorite toy, but whatever.

The endorphins are running rampant through my system nonetheless.

It’s mid-afternoon when I finally walk back into my building.

My skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, my hair is…probably better off not being thought about, and I’m pretty sure that when I strip off my clothes I’ll discover that my waning summer tan has had a boost.

I’m more than ready for a shower and to kick back and relax before another working week begins.

A trickle of unease works its way through my body as I think about facing Kian again after what happened Friday night, but I quickly lock it away to worry about tomorrow. I’m not allowing him to ruin any more of my weekend.

My legs are burning from the run up the stairs of my building, but I’m too busy fiddling with my earbuds and cell to pay any attention to what’s happening in my hallway. Something I soon discover is a mistake.

“Good afternoon, Lorelei.”

The second the deep voice hits my ears, I freeze.

No.

No.

He is not standing outside my apartment on a Sunday freaking afternoon.

Dragging my eyes up, I find that I’m wrong, because he is standing there beside my front door like he owns the place.

“What are you doing?” I snap, trying to hold my head high and stand my ground despite the fact I’m a disgusting, sweaty mess.

“Waiting for you. What does it look like?”

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