Page 31 of The Bad Boy Rule

“Shocking.”

Slowly, almost wolfishly, I walk over to where she’s sitting in the large, oversized leather chair, watching as her throat bobs and her lips part slightly, eyes widening with each step I take toward her.

I stop when I’m right in front of her, peering down at her doe-like eyes. I bend, flattening my palms along the arms of the chair, and dip my head. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Also shocking,” she retorts snarkily, but her words are breathy, and she’s not fooling me, not in the least, not the way she’s trying to fool herself.

The sweet, innocent virgin until she probably dies is attracted to the guy that she can’t stand.

And I bet she fucking hates herself for it.

My lips twitch as I lean even closer, until I hear her breath hitch. Raising my finger, I bring it to her pale, creamy skin and ghost the rough pad of it along her collarbone, watching as her eyes squeeze shut like it’ll somehow make me disappear too.

“You want me to play like I’m your boyfriend, yet I can’t even get close to you without your cheeks blazing. How do you thinkyou’re going to fool anyone when a simpletouchmakes you respond like this?”

I drag my finger languidly, the barest of touches, down the center of her chest and almost make it to the shallow space between her tits before she reaches up, her fingers curling around mine to stop me from going any further. Smirking, I lift my eyes to hers. “See what I mean, Golden Girl? Can’t be your boyfriend if you act like a Catholic schoolgirl the moment I touch you.”

Even with her pupils dilating, she tries to deny what’s painfully obvious to us both: her attraction to me.

Her green eyes roll. “Sorry that your proximity makes me physically ill.”

I chuckle. “Who are you trying to convince… me oryourself?”

I can feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat beneath my finger as she stutters, “I-I… No convincing necessary. How about we worry about that when it becomes a problem? As of right now, I’m not entirely convinced we are going to be able to make ittothe fundraiser.”

Just as I open my mouth to tell her that if we don’t, it’ll be because of her and not me, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Straightening, I fish it out of my pocket, my brow pinching when I see Mom’s name on the screen.

She never calls me during the day.

“Hello?” I answer, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Saint, I just got home from work, and there’s a note… A note on the door, and I don’t know what to do. I-I’m scared. I don’t kno—” The words break as she speaks. She’s panicked, strained in a way that has terror wrapping around my throat and cutting off my oxygen. “Can you please come home?”

“I’ll be right there. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay,” I say roughly, trying to reassure her, although I’m not even sure what’s happening.

My gaze flicks to Lennon where she’s staring at me with wide eyes, concern evident in their depths.

The moment I press End and shove my phone into my slacks, she’s rising from the chair. “Is everything okay? You look wor?—”

“I’m fine. I have to go,” I mutter, shoving the shirt down my arms, one sleeve at a time, as I move across the room toward the dressing room.

“But we’re not done—” she starts, and I cut her off again before she can continue her sentence.

“I said I have to fucking go, Lennon.”

There’s no remorse in my words, in the way that I snap at her. I can’t even fucking think straight after that phone call.

Her mouth slams shut, her expression darkening, and finally, she nods.

Without another word, I turn and walk toward the exit.

NOTICETO VACATE

The letter my mom holds in her shaking hands is a fucking eviction letter. We are over a month behind on rent, and we have two weeks to come up with the money, or we’ll be homeless.

Fucking homeless.

I take the letter from her, reading it again and again until the words bleed together.

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