Page 199 of The Rules
He could feel her eyes on him, tracking the movement of muscle beneath skin. The weight of her gaze was almost tangible, a physical sensation that crawled across his shoulders, down his spine.
He didn't say anything else. Didn't push. But they both knew—
This game? It wasn't over. It had barely started.
Ben let a faint smile tug at the corner of his mouth, then crossed the room without a word. He stopped in the center of the living room, dropped the bottle onto the floor, and lowered himself into position—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He dropped into a steady rhythm—push-ups first, slow and controlled. His muscles burned with each repetition, the familiar ache grounding him. He moved with precision, body responding exactly as commanded. Burpees next, then weighted squats, core work. Each exercise executed with ruthless efficiency.
This was his sanctuary. His control. His domain.
Or it should have been.
But the real heat wasn't in his workout. It was on the couch.
Kath had settled in like she owned the damn room, legs tucked beneath her, that sleep-tousled hair falling around her shoulders. Coffee mug cradled in her hands, steam rising between them. And that shirt just long enough to tease.
Every time she shifted, it rode up a little higher on her thighs.
Ben forced himself to focus on his form, on his breathing, on anything but the woman watching him from his couch. But then, as she adjusted her position, he saw it.
Black lace. Barely visible beneath the hem of his shirt. Deliberate as hell.
She didn't move to cover it. Didn't blush. Just watched him.
Openly. Shamelessly.
Ben let the silence stretch between them, feeling the weight of her gaze like a physical touch as he continued his reps.
He lifted again. Flexed again. Her eyes tracked every movement, every bead of sweat that rolled down his chest.
"You could at least pretend you're not staring," he said, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Kath hummed into her mug, all innocence. All lies.
"I'm just observing," she replied, eyes never leaving his body. "Purely educational. Totally educational."
Ben's muscles burned pleasantly as he held his plank, body a perfect line of tension and control. Sweat beaded along his spine, but his breathing remained measured, deliberate. This was where he belonged—in complete command of himself,
his environment, his reactions.
But Kath was making that increasingly difficult.
He could feel her watching him, her gaze like a physical touch sliding across his shoulders, down his back, lingering.
The weight of her attention was distracting, fracturing his focus with each passing second.
He lowered himself into another push-up, rose again. Controlled. Precise. Refusing to acknowledge how her presence affected him.
Until he heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible sound that sliced through his focus like a blade.
A sigh.
Not accidental. Not casual.
The kind that came from somewhere deeper—needier.
His gaze snapped up—sharp, instinctive—and caught her in the act.
