Page 90 of The Bad Boy Rule

“You were perfect,” I say as I languidly stroke the inside of her thigh with my thumb. “Now you can do it every day, twelve times a day.”

“Or…” The word hangs between us as she slides down my body until she’s straddling my hips, darkened gaze holding mine as she moves back even further until she’s on top of my cock. A shudder runs through me as her hot, still-dripping pussy drags along my bare skin, coating me in her creamy cum.

Oh fuck.

We both let out a breathy sound, a whimper and a groan. Shit, I can’t even differentiate the two.

“You could fuck me.”

My eyes widen, brow arching, looking at her like she’s lost the goddamn plot. Isn’t that theonething she took off the table when we started this?

“Lennon…” I start, trying to find the words. This isn’t just hooking up; this is something she drew a boundary around. “You said that you weren’t ready for that.”

Motherfucker, I have to tell her.

I have to come clean about my stupid fucking plan. Even if I have no intentions of following through with it anymore, she deserves to know the truth.

Buthow?

How do I tell her that I started this with her as my intended casualty for a vendetta with her father but that somewhere along the way, I started to have feelings for her. That I abandoned the fucking plan the moment I realized that she’s more important than revenge.

That the revenge doesn’t even matter if it means I’ll have to hurt her.

That she’s become the only real friend I have. Outside of Ma, the most important person to me.

That the thought of hurting her makes me physically hurt.

How the fuck do I tell heranyof that without ruiningeverythingthat’s happening right now? I’m done with my plan; it no longer applies. But I have to tell her, don’t I?

She shrugs, brushing my lips with hers. “And now I am.”

“Baby, no, I…” I start, ready to admit my entire fucking existence to her in this moment, but her finger moves over my lips, silencing me.

“Don’t. You don’t need to say anything. For so long, my life, my body, my choices haven’t been mine. But this decision is mine, and only I can make it. And I want it to be you. I want you to take my virginity, Saint.”

FORTY-TWO

LENNON

My heart is thudding obscenely hard in my chest as I stare down at the man who I just offered my virginity to. Although I’m not sure if he’s even going to agree because he’s currently looking at me like I’ve said something insane.

“Do you not wa—” The sentence dies on my tongue because he sits up, plastering us tightly together as he captures my lips and silences me with a kiss that makes me feel light-headed and breathless.

When he pulls back, his dark eyes are stormy. “Trust me when I say I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my fucking life. Don’t ever doubt the way I want you.” He sweeps his thumb along my jaw, where he’s holding me. “I just know that you said you weren’t ready, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re pressured to do anything.”

I melt just a little bit at the fact that he’s worried about my consent and that I might not be thinking clearly. But the truth is, I’ve never been more sure of anything.

I kept this promise ring on my finger as a reminder tomyselfafter everything that I’ve been through. It’s never been about my virginity, not really. It’s always been about choice, aboutreclaiming my decisions. That whoever I have sex with will be because Iwantedto.

And I’m choosing Saint.

With him, I feel confident, and comfortable, and safe. I feel seen not just for the person I’m trying to be but for the one I’ve always been. I don’t feel like I have to hide who I am.

Even if we’re not together, or even if we don’t ever move past this moment, I know undoubtedly that he’s the one I want to share it with.

“I’m a thousand percent sure. I want it to be you,” I say as I lift my chin, the conviction in my tone evident.

A beat passes between us as his eyes search mine, him drinking in the gravity of what I’ve just said.

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