Page 29 of Breaking the Rules
“Okay.” She tips her chin, considering this. “I’ll have a drink.”
“Do you like Japanese whisky?”
“Sure?”
I chuckle at her uncertainty. “Stay right there.”
I rush to the kitchen for two glasses and pour us each a measure of the whisky I save for special occasions. There’s not an occasion more special than this as far as I’m concerned.
Over sips of whisky, we lounge on my bed and talk. I tell her some of my past—like growing up with a single mom, and how hockey became my whole world.
I tell her about how we didn’t grow up with much money and that for fun we’d walk to the park with a picnic lunch. Some of my best memories from childhood are sitting in the grass, looking up at the clouds move.
She leans back against my pillows, glass of whisky in her hand. “What was the thing you thought signified that someone was rich back then? Mine was if you had children’s flavored toothpaste. If you had the extra four dollars to spring for the bubblegum flavored toothpaste, clearly your family had money. And for sure a pool…if you had a pool, in my mind, you were insanely rich.”
“Toothpaste? Really?” I chuckle at her.
She nods. “I know. But my dad only bought regular and everyone used it. One bathroom house.”
It sounds like maybe we’re more similar than she ever realized. I grew up without much extra and learned early on not to take anything for granted.
“Mine was having a basketball hoop in the driveway. I always wanted one of those. Oh, and maybe having cable TV too. That would have been nice.”
She nods. Then she sets her glass down on my nightstand and crawls across the bed toward me. My heart accelerates as I watch her move. And when she plants herself in my lap, I struggle for oxygen.
“You’re a good man, Preston.”
I touch her face, stroking my thumb along her cheek. “And you’re a good girl, Ess.”
A slow, crooked smile lifts her mouth. I’m not convinced she believes me. It’s something we’ll have to work on.
I push my hands under her shirt, loving the feel of her soft skin under my fingertips. When I remove her shirt, Essie lifts her arms. Then she strips herself of her bra, and I suck in a sharp inhale. She’s beautiful. We’ve hooked up before—but never like this. Never face to face with the lights on.
Her hands fumble with my belt and I help her out, freeing it from my pants. Then she draws down my fly and I forget how to breath. My boxers are pushed out of the way as she works her hand under the elastic.
I can’t help the involuntary groan that escapes me when she curls her fist around me. Her hand moves over my length in hot, eager strokes and I groan, knees trembling.
“I need to be inside you.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “Should we use protection…or?”
“What do you mean?” My pulse is going crazy because Essie’s still in my lap. And she’s still topless.
“I’m asking how well your date went the other night and if…” She lifts one eyebrow at me.
“My date?”Veronica?“No. God, no.” I shake my head. She doesn’t realize the date was a rouse. She’s the only woman I want. “I haven’t been with anyone but you.” I guess I’ll have to fess up to the plot to make her jealous…
“Good.” She kisses me again. The friction in my lap is making me insane.
“What about you … Warren?”
“Ew. No.”
I chuckle into her kiss. “Good.” That is very good news, because I have a hard time picturing her with any man who isn’t me.
“If we do this…you’re my girlfriend. You know that, right?”
Essie’s eyes find mine and I struggle to read her expression.
