Page 124 of The Rule Breaker
And I don’t want to hide her. I don’t want to keep ducking glances and sneaking kisses behind closed doors. I want to kiss her in the middle of campus. I want to show her off. Let the whole damn world know she’s taken, and that I’m off the market. Fully, completely, and absolutely hers.
“You’re quiet,” she says, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I lower my chin to the crown of her head. Her hair smells like my shampoo, and I inhale it, my chest lighting up. “Thinking.”
She tilts her head up just enough that her cheek brushes my collarbone. “About what?”
About how I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. About how this—us—should feel like a trap, like a countdown to whenI mess it all up. But instead, it feels like the safest place I’ve ever been. Like maybe I haven’t wrecked everything I’ve touched.
I don’t say any of that.
“Dunno.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “You know, for someone who’s really good with his mouth, you’re terrible at using it sometimes.”
My lips twitch. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Both.”
I smirk, dragging my hands up her arms, my thumbs brushing across her shoulders. Her skin’s slick and warm, like silk under water.
I’ve never been so happy in my life.
Her fingers keep tracing shapes on my knee as we sit in silence. “Do you think I could still work in sports if it wasn’t for my dad?”
I frown, twisting my head to look down at her. “Where is this coming from?”
She shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but I can tell by the look on her face that something is eating at her. “One of the guys in my class said the only reason Westbrook lost was because they got distracted by my boobs.”
I tense behind her, arms tightening just slightly. “What the fuck?”
She shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I cut in, my brows drawing together. “What the fuck, Bels? Who the hell said that?”
She glances back at me, shaking her head. “I just want to know if you really think I could have a future in sports… or if I’m just kidding myself.”
“Yes,” I say, no hesitation. “Of course you can.”
“Really?” she asks, eyebrows lifting.
“You’re amazing as hell, Curls. You don’t need my opinion, but you already know where I stand.” My jaw tightens. “Don’t let those idiots make you question your skills. You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to a bunch of insecure assholes who couldn’t run a fantasy league if their lives depended on it.”
That makes her laugh, and I feel some of the tension in her shoulders ease.
“You’re smarter than all of them,” I continue. “Never met the idiots, but I have no doubt that you work harder than any of them. You belong in that room just as much, hell, more than they do.”
She leans her head back against my shoulder, eyes flicking to mine. “You think so?”
I nod. “I know so. You’re amazing, Isabella. Don’t let them make you forget that.” A smirk curls on my lips. “And for the record, your boobs weren’t the distraction. I mean… they are for me, but?—”
She rolls her eyes, and I chuckle.
“We beat them because of your plays,” I tell her honestly. “Because you stepped in and showed us where we were screwing up. We beat them because they suck. Nothing to do with you being a woman, baby.”
She laughs, the sound soft and so beautiful, and leans fully into me again. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I press a kiss to her damp curls.
This feels so right. Fuck. Why did it have to be with the one person I can’t have?
