Page 108 of My Rules

“You want to watch a movie?” she asks.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you want to watch?” She looks over at Barry. “Barry, in your bed.”

I point to the bed, and somehow, he listens and goes and lies in it.

“See how authoritarian I am?” I reply. “When I speak, he listens. He knows who’s boss around here.”

“Right.” She widens her eyes.

“About time you realize I’m the boss too.” I nudge her with my foot.

“Really?” She nudges me back with her foot. “We both know who’s boss around here.”

I roll my eyes at the irony. The only place I want to be the boss is the one place I’m not.

What a joke.

Two hours later, I lie on my side propped up on my elbow as I watch Rebecca sleep. The movie is on in the background, but I won’t turn it off because then she may wake up and go upstairs to her bed instead of sleeping beside me.

Her dark hair is out and splayed across the pillow. Her olive skin is flawless against the cream linen. My eyes roam over her shoulders, then down to linger on her cleavage.

What is it about this woman?

She’s not a supermodel or a rocket scientist, and hell, she doesn’t even like me that way.

But for the life of me ... I cannot stop thinking about her.

It’s like I’ve had a spell cast on me, a magical one of infatuation and wonder. If I’m out, all I want to do is rush home to see what she’s doing.

But I don’t know why.

We aren’t like that. We have never been like that. We’re just friends, and she’s right. I know she’s right.

Having her in my life forever means a lot more than a flash-in-the-pan, hot-and-heavy romance.

Hot and heavy.

My eyes drop lower to her bare thigh as it hangs out of the blanket. The definition in her quad muscle calls to me like never before.

I swallow the lump in my throat. What I wouldn’t give for one night.

How would she taste . . .

A wave of arousal washes over me, and I close my eyes to try and will it away ... just like I’ve done a million times before.

No matter what, I can’t let it win.

Nothing good will ever come from me acting on this stupid, childish crush.

All it would achieve would be to push her away.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Her regulated breathing sounds through the room as I fight every primal urge to slide under the covers, spread her legs, and taste her.

Bury myself so deep inside her body that ... my cock throbs at the thought.

Fuck . . . stop it.

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