Page 29 of Stone Rules

“How about you, Charlie Tate? Were you named after the Hurricanes’ football coach?”

I try to hide my surprise. Most people don’t know who Charlie Tate was. He played football for a few years. He coached for a few years. But it’s not like he was Peyton Manning or Bear Bryant or anything. For the first time in a long time, I think of my dad and how he loved football. How he would teach me what things like ‘nickelback’ and ‘red zone’ and ‘safety’ meant when we would watch games together. Football Saturdays are the only good memories I have left of the pathetic man who was my father.

I shrug. “My dad kind of had a thing for football.”

“Sounds like he and I would get along then.”

I ignore his statement completely. “So Kyle said he’s your youngest brother? There are more?”

“Just one. Chad. He falls in the middle.”

“Sisters?” I ask.

“Nope, just the three of us.” He swims up directly in front of me. “Why are you suddenly so interested in my family?”

I slide my bottom down the edge, easing myself back into the pool. “You’re the one who brought Kyle to the restaurant.”

“For lunch. I am allowed to eat lunch with my brother, am I not?”

“Sure. It’s just that you seem to frequent Mitchell’s an awful lot these days.”

“Well, yeah,” he says. “They do have the best Reubens in New York City.”

“They’ve always had the best Reubens.” I raise my eyebrows. “But it’s been brought to my attention that you’ve only been coming there for a few weeks. Why is that, Stone?”

His arms come up on either side of me, holding me prisoner against the side of the pool. “If you don’t know that, you’re not as bright as I thought you were, Tate.”

Butterflies dance across my stomach. “I thought you couldn’t get involved with me,” I say, trying to keep the shakiness out of my voice.

“That doesn’t mean I want you getting involved with anyone else.”

His chocolate eyes burn into me. He picks up a wet chunk of my hair, working it between his fingers. I realize hair doesn’t have nerve endings, but I swear his touch sends impulses through every synapse in my body.

“You can’t have it both ways, you know.” My chest heaves between words. Our close proximity has my pulse beating so hard I’m sure it must be echoing off the walls of the massive aquatics room.

Nobody else has come in to swim laps. It’s late. Most of the gym patrons have gone home. A few stragglers remain in the fitness area, but they would be hard pressed to see us in the far corner of the pool.

I reach out and place my hand flat against his chest, right over his other tattoo. His heartbeat is in sync with the fast pace of mine, pounding heavily against his chest wall. Boldly, I run my hand down over his taut abs as his breath comes faster. He puts his hand over mine, halting my progress. I look into his eyes, clearly seeing the battle raging in his head.

I lean forward, letting my soft words flow over his ear. “What’s it gonna be, Stone?”

Suddenly, his arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against his body so I can feel what our closeness is doing to him. One of his hands comes up and grabs the nape of my neck, and as he leans down, his heavy whisper resonates all the way through my body. “Fuck the rules.”

His mouth comes crashing down on mine before my lips have time to break into a victorious smile. His hands are everywhere all at once, worshiping my thighs, my hips, my shoulders, as if he’s a man deprived.

His large frame covers me, shielding me from prying eyes should anyone wander into the pool room.

He supports me against the wall, giving himself leverage while his lips lick pool water from my neck. He lifts me slightly out of the water with one hand, exposing my bikini-covered breasts as his pupils dilate and his eyes grow as hungry as his hands.

Slowly, his mouth works down my collarbone, across my shoulder, finally finding my breast as he pulls the fabric aside with his fingers to give access to his tongue.

Pulses of feeling bolt straight to my center as he sucks, swirls, and flicks my breasts in a way I’ve never experienced before. He blows air across my chest, puckering my nipples even further.

With one hand around his neck, supporting myself out of the water, I take my other hand and work it beneath his swim trunks, feeling him swell thicker at my touch.

His groans bounce off the walls, the sultry noises feeding my greedy desire to have him inside of me again.

My pants and moans match his, our arms and legs so tangled together it’s hard to tell which limbs are his and which are mine.

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