Page 81 of The Bad Boy Rule

Leaning down, I hover my mouth over hers, my hand bracketing her throat, lips curved into a smirk. “Making you come isexactlywhat I needed, Golden Girl.”

She has no idea how much losing myself in her, even for just a while, took everything away.

The shit with my father is now the last thing on my mind. Instead, she’s front and center, taking up all the space there is, and it feels… substantial, in ways I don’t even fucking understand.

But I think I’m beginning to.

THIRTY-EIGHT

LENNON

Heavy rain patters noisily against my bedroom window as the storm outside rages on like it has for the entirety of the day. The sky has opened up, relentlessly dumping water over New Orleans in a torrential pour during the first hurricane of the season.

The storm’s been brewing in the gulf for days, now finally passing over us and flooding the streets like a river. Wind howls and whips outside, bending the branches of the heavy oak trees until they groan and crack from the pressure. Angry thunder rolls, causing the walls of my apartment to tremble.

Unlike a lot of people, I love hurricanes. I love the dark, thick clouds that roll in, the deep rumble of rolling thunder, lightning that electrifies the sky.

They always bring a sense of peace to wash over me.

Sighing, I turn and look over at the glowing numbers of the clock on my nightstand.

It’s late, and I should have gone to sleep hours ago, but I’ve been too restless, tossing and turning, kicking the covers off, reaching for my phone more times than I even want to admit.

I want to text him, but I also don’t want to seem clingy because I’m not.

It’s just… it feels like there’s been a fire ignited inside of me, and I’m impatient for the next stolen moment with the man I’m supposed to hate.

It’s funny how things happen. How life has a way of unfolding in the way that it’s supposed to and not the way you thought it would.

Just a couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him, and now I’m anxiously waiting for the next time that I am.

A sudden boom of thunder claps just outside the window, rattling the pane, followed by a bright flash of lightning that has my heart ratcheting in my chest.

Shit, that scared me.

I reach for my phone, but I stop short when there’s another loud rumble that sounds like thunder, except… not outside the window.

My brow pinches.

Then I hear it again, heavy pounding, and I realize it’s not thunder at all… it’s the front door.

Maisie’s at her parents’ for the weekend, and I have no idea who would be pounding on my door in the middle of the night during ahurricane.

I toss the duvet off and quickly walk to the front door, peering through the peephole. It’s hard to see anything at all with the rain blowing sideways under the dim light of the porch, but I can make out a silhouette.

I’m wrenching the door open in a single breath, my heart pounding wildly when I seeSaintstanding in front of me, staring down at the porch beneath his feet.

He’s drenched from the rain, his clothes completely soaked through, dark hair plastered to his face, droplets of rain tracing a path down his body.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He stands there, rooted in place, shoulders rising and falling as he breathes roughly.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Until he lifts his head and looks up at me, his dark brown eyes full of so much pain and anguish that it makes my chest physically ache.

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