Page 47 of Rulebreaker
ATLAS: I picked ONE thing out.
LILY: What’s that?
ATLAS: The sheets.
I hold my breath. I don’t want to be talking about my mattress, my sheets, my bed.
I want more pieces of her, to figure out how to peel back all that armor, for her to let me inside.
I just…want more.
And I get it—at least today, at least in this way.
LILY: Fine. Send me your address.
I text it over.
Then wait, my lungs protesting as I’m practically holding my breath. Hoping.Wanting.
At least until she texts again.
ThenI’m grinning.
LILY: I’ll be there in an hour.
SIXTEEN
Lily
I figuredAtlas’s house would be ginormous, but it’s actually pretty modest for a billionaire. He continues to surprise me, but the biggest surprise was that I agreed to come here.
As my Uber pulls up outside the gate, I feel a moment of panic. I’m doing this. I’m going to spend time with a guy I really like, at his house, just the two of us. And that has disaster written all over it.
It’s also the quickest way to catch feelings but the magnetism between us is making it increasingly difficult to say no to him. Not to mention the size of his–
My thoughts go on the fritz as he comes out the front door and lifts a hand in greeting.
Fuck.
He was watching for me.
Like he’s looking forward to this.
I know this is a bad idea but I seem to be full of them, so what’s one more in a long line of mistakes?
Smiling at the driver, I thank him, grab my overnight bag, and step out of the car.
Atlas is wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, and I can’t decide if I like this look or him in a full suit better.
“Hey, Texas.” He meets me halfway up the walk, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as he takes my bag.
“Hello yourself.” I follow him up a few steps and into–a grand foyer.
The outside of the house is modest but there isn’t anything modest about the inside. Marble and crystal and expensive artwork line the walls, everything done in black, white, and chrome. Not to mention glass everywhere. This is such a stark contrast to my expensive but more homey decorating style, I can’t help but smile.
“What’s funny?” he asks, leading me deeper into the house.
“Just how different our tastes are in decor.”
