Page 33 of Rush

“You made itveryclear you wanted to keep this relationship strictly professional. I understand we’re in a situation that makes it okay for you to touch me at will whilewe’re in front of the public, but in private, it’s not okay. I’m not yourrealfiancée or even yourrealgirlfriend.”

She was right again. Since his dad had first hadthe talkwith him as a preteen to one of the last conversations they’d had before he’d entered the draft, he’d been taught the importance of consent. He’d never crossed that line before. The part that really sucked was he hadn’t felt like he’d crossed that line last night either—because he thought of Nora as his.

But she wasn’t.

He’d made damn sure of that back in California.

If he didn’t like it when guys tried to pick her up or that he sure as hell didn’t want her sleeping on a lumpy fucking couch, he had no one to blame but himself. And that was the rub. Because regardless of all the reasons why Nora and he shouldn’t be, he was starting to want them to be. He rubbed a spot on his chest that suddenly ached. He was an idiot. “You’re right. I should’ve known better than to touch you while you were sleeping. I hadn’t been thinking.”

He took the steps that separated them, crouching in front of her yet keeping his distance, proving he could give her personal space. Even still, he was close enough that with the sun shining down and its rays kissing her hair, he could see all the colors mixed with the brown—strands of gold, bronze, and even the palest blond. “I’m sorry and I won’t do it again,” he said sincerely.

“And you understand why what you did was wrong?”

“I understand. It was unacceptable. Can you forgive me?”

Her eyes bore into his, the green popping against the darkness of her thick, long lashes. It took a minute, but shefinally relented. “I guess at this point it would be petty not to. So, yeah, okay.”

Not the most enthusiastic of responses, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so he’d take it. By way of a second apology, he twisted his lips into a small smirk and asked, “Want me to push you on the swing?”

That got him a reluctant half smile and the lifting of one shoulder. “Sure.”

He stood, got behind her, and grabbed the swing by the chains. Then he pulled back and up as far as his arms could lift and let her fly.

And the laughter that followed, though maybe didn’t cure it, went a long way to soothe the ache he still felt in the vicinity of his heart.

Chapter Twelve

After a full week of living under Linc’s roof, Nora had discovered many things about her new “fiancé.” First, the man hated doing laundry and would let it pile up until either she or the cleaning crew who came in once a week did it for him. He hated most vegetables but ate them anyway. He hated losing when they played Candyland. His favorite color was blue. He liked a wide mix of music. He preferred vanilla ice cream over chocolate.

And, when it came to her, the man was a walking contradiction.

He’d made it clear where he stood on having any type of real relationship with her, but his eyes and body language told a completely different story. Any time they were in the same room, she’d catch him staring. And yeah, she was a virgin and all, but she wasn’tthatnaive. The man was begging to get caught and he never looked away without his eyes heating and a devilish smile tilting his lips.

When they were in public and held hands, it wasn’t just a casual linking of fingers. He’d rub his thumb over hers with a slow purposeful intent. Or when he kissed her, before pulling away, he’d sweep his tongue across her bottom lip. And she very well knew bystanders and photographers could see neither of those things. So why did he do it?

His actions were confusing.

They were distracting.

They were maddening.

But worst of all, they left her wanting.

***

“What do you feel like for dinner?” Nora stood in front of the open refrigerator, gazing in.

Linc still brought home lunch every day but she had gotten into the habit of cooking most nights.

She felt Linc come up behind her, his heat at her back a sharp contrast to the cold at her front. He placed a hand on the handle right above hers and leaned in until his head was right next to hers but was careful not to touch any part of her.

With the way her body reacted, you would think his hands were all over her.

“What have we got?”

She forced herself to concentrate on the contents in the fridge. “Let’s see. I can make tacos or hamburgers.” They had a package of ground beef and all the fixings for both.

“Tacos.” He pushed away and she lost his heat.

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