Page 148 of Breaking the Rules
She posts a lot. Mostly her outfits. Or her makeup.
And, fuck, those outfits—
It's always something clingy or low-cut or short.
Like now.
She's wearing a white blouse. It's low enough on her chest to show off the lace of her black bra. It's not an all lace thing. Just a trim.
I saw it when I was packing her shit.
When I close my eyes, I can see her in it.
In nothing but that black bra and a matching thong.
She's here, teasing Chloe about work, studying between social media updates.
We're friends.
I'm not going to set her on that counter, roll her jeans to her ankles, and dive between her legs.
I need to go home.
Fuck myself until I can't come anymore.
That's the only way to keep my cool around her.
But there's no way I'm missing a minute of our time together.
We have plans tonight.
The gym. Dinner. The rest of season two.
I need that.
Her proximity. Her laugh. Her touch.
I need more.
But I'm taking what I can get.
My cell sings with a text alert.
Wes: You fuck her?
Hunter: That's Brendon's kid sister.
Wes: Shit, she's that Emma?
Hunter: Yeah.
Wes: She looks different.
Hunter: Her hair is a different color every month or two.
Wes: Damn. He could snap your neck like that.
I could hold my own against Brendon if it came to that.
