Page 2 of My Rules

“Probably not. Listen, Henley is a big boy. If he wants to go to Vegas, he can go to Vegas; it has nothing to do with me.”

“Ahh.” My mouth falls open, and I put the phone on speaker. “Can you repeat that, Jules?” I point to the phone as I hold it out for the boys to hear.

“Henley is a big boy, and if he wants to go to Vegas, he can go to Vegas,” Juliet repeats.

“Thank you.” I smile. “This is why we are marrying you, sweet Juliet.”

“I’m not marrying you, Blake,” she replies dryly.

“So you think.” Antony smirks as he goes back to flicking through the suits.

Henley holds his hand out for the phone.

“Goodbye.” I end the call and pass him back his phone.

“I wanted to speak to her,” Henley replies.

“Tough, she’s gone and we have things to do.” I walk over to the rack of suits. “I think you need a white jacket and a black bow tie, and we’ll wear black dinner suits.”

“Why black dinner suits?” Ant asks.

“Because I look good in a black dinner suit.”

Henley rolls his eyes, unimpressed.

The salesman comes out of the back. “Can I help you?” he asks us.

“Yes, please,” Antony replies. “Henley here is getting married, and we want him to look as pretty as a picture for his big special day.”

Henley gives Ant the side-eye, and I smirk. “And we’re going to need a white jacket.”

The cool, crisp flavor cleanses my palate; there’s nothing better than a cold beer after a hard, long day.

The restaurant is loud with chatter, and a tantric beat sounds through the oversize speakers. Marconi’s is the hippest bar in town—luckily, because we come here way too often.

My eyes linger on the opposite end of the table, and as Rebecca licks the salt from her margarita glass, I feel it all the way to the tip of my cock.

Her dark hair is up in a high ponytail, her rounded, full breasts peek out of the V-neck in her dress, and as she smiles I’m quite sure that somewhere in the distance I hear a choir of angels break into song.

Ugh. I sip my beer, unimpressed with where my mind is going ... again.

This woman . . .

She’s my neighbor, my friend’s ex-wife ... my best friend, a member of my own group of friends, a quite close one, actually, and frankly, she’s impossible to avoid.

Rebecca.

Beautiful, smart, and funny. She’s the whole package.

We’re in the friend zone.

So deeply that she thinks of me as a big brother, but behind closed doors, I carry a sordid secret: I’m the big brother that fantasizes about doing unspeakable things to her body.

In my dreams she uses me just as hard as I use her.

“You seeing Cindy tonight?” Henley asks.

“Yeah.” I sip my beer, my eyes lingering on the forbidden fruit.

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