Page 47 of The Bad Boy Rule

“Y-yes,” she stutters. “That’s why I asked.”

My lips twitch. She still hasn’t stepped back or moved my hand. I drag my palm up the back of her thigh, until it rests along the curve of her ass beneath her skirt.

It dawns on me that our hour is almost up, and the next person scheduled could walk in at any time and find us like this.

Her nearly flush against my front, cheeks burning red, my hand underneath her skirt.

They’d have no idea what they were witnessing. Sure, it’s something seemingly innocent, but what they can’t see is the line that’s being crossed and the white flag being waved.

Surrender.

It’s one step closer to getting what I want, no fuck that, what Ideserve.

My revenge.

Even if that means that she’s the casualty in it all.

My fingers press into her thigh as I tighten my grip, my other hand finding the curve of her waist to haul her flush against me as I lower my lips to her ear. “I’m staring because you look good enough to fucking eat, and all I can think about is laying you down right here on this ice, flipping up that little fucking skirt, and seeing just how good your sweet little pussy tastes.”

TWENTY-THREE

LENNON

I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time over the last twenty-four hours replaying every single moment of… whatever the hell happened between Saint and me during our ice time.

I’ve tried to stop thinking of it, abouthim. I should be pretending that it never even happened at all, but I haven’t been able to stop.

For a girl who’s never even had an orgasm, not from lack of trying, I felt like I was going toburstjust from the way his breath caressed my ear and his fingers dug into the back of my thigh as he held me against him and whispered the filthiest thing I’ve ever heard.

Aboutme.

It was the hottest moment of my life, despite the overshadowing fact that my unfortunate attraction to him is ridiculous. And that he’s truly the last guy on the planet I should willingly choose to be attracted to.

Really, it’s the only time I can ever recall wanting someone so fiercely that Iached.Throbbed between my thighs until I thought I was going to spontaneously combust.

I never once felt that way with Chandler, nothing even close. Yet another reason that breaking up with him and never looking back was the right choice. Not that I needed another. Him cheating on me was more than enough.

And now, after spending the last day obsessively thinking about Saint, I’m about to see him for the first time since.

In front of my parents.

Surrounded by volunteers at the pediatric hospital, where we’re going to spend the day.

I thought the next event I would need him at was the upcoming gala, but with everything going on, apparently, I forgot to write down today’s volunteer work in my planner.

Completely unlike me.

I’m generally type A, compulsively organized in every aspect of my life, but lately… my mind has been occupied, hence the last-minute text I fired off to him this morning asking—no, begging—for him to come with me today.

I was shocked when he agreed and said he’d meet me here.

My pulse skitters when I see him sauntering up the sidewalk, and I force myself to take a shaky breath and stop being ridiculous. This is the same guy who has slept his way through every girls’ sports roster on campus. The asshole who’s crass and rude and selfish.

You don’t have to like him to want a repeat of yesterday, the voice in my head says, and I groan inwardly.

This is going to be great. Perfectly fine.

“Golden Girl,” he murmurs, coming to a stop in front of me. His full lips quirk when he eyes my braided pigtails, reaching up to twirl the end of my hair around his finger. “Cute.”

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