Page 230 of Breaking the Rules

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No.

I miss the freedom that came with letting go of control.

But I don't miss the act itself.

Whenever I sobered up, I hated that feeling of blankness. Of not knowing what I'd done. Or why I'd done it.

"I just think you'd look good in leather boots," I say.

"Well, obviously." She hikes her skirt up her thigh. "I have the legs for it."

Fuck, does she.

"The thing is"—she leads us into the main room—"I look good in everything."

"And modest too."

"Thank you." She stretches her arms wide. Smiles.

Click, click. "How do you do it?"

"It's hard. I have to practice humility every day. But I'm so good at it."

"Amazing."

"I know, right?"

I double over with a full-blown belly laugh.

She does that to me.

Gets me like no one else does.

Hits me somewhere no one else reaches.

I need more of her.

If that really is what she wants—

If it really is what's best for her—

"Okay. I'll get the bathroom." Her fingers brush mine as she takes my phone. She skips to the room. Snaps a few photos. Skips back. "You think it will help our odds if we make a show of kissing goodbye?"

"Why would we kiss goodbye if we're leaving together?"

"Yeah, true." Disappointment flares in her eyes. It's a quick thing. A second. Then she's all smiles. "We could make out. Let the happiness of finding a new place overtake us."

"We could?" I raise a brow.

She moves closer enough to whisper. "Sandy is really into us."

"You think she wants to watch?"

"She's dying to watch." Her fingers brush my hair. My ear. My neck. "But I'm only willing to give her a hint of a show."

"No penetration?"

Her fingers curl into my hip. "Definitely not."

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