Page 46 of The Rules
But then his hands move.
The grip on her wrist is sudden but controlled - not painful, just absolute. The touch sends electricity crackling across her skin, makes her breath catch in her throat.
She freezes, caught in his grasp, her pulse skittering wildly. It's not fear that makes her still - it's the casual certainty of histouch. The way he claims her space without hesitation or doubt. Like he knew all along that she wouldn't really leave. Like this was inevitable.
His fingers flex slightly against her skin. This isn't how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be in control. But the way he holds her—effortless, assured—makes her question if she ever was.
His touch maps a slow path up her arm, each point of contact igniting fresh sparks beneath her skin.
When she finally risks meeting his gaze, the raw hunger there strips the air from her lungs. His eyes have darkened to obsidian, heavy-lidded yet knife-sharp with calculation.
Katherine watches him watching her, feeling exposed as he mentally traces paths across her body, marking territories he intends to claim.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" The velvet rasp of his voice slithers across her skin, wrapping around her throat like a possessive hand—amusement curling beneath his warning.
She manages a smirk, though it feels shaky. "You seemed finished."
The curve of his lips is pure sin. Before she can process his intent, he moves - one arm wrapping around her waist while the other catches behind her knees.
He arranges her effortlessly, like she belongs there. Like he’s known this was inevitable. She's not being held captive - she's being claimed. The distinction sends a shiver down her spine that she can't hide.
His eyes flicker—there, he sees it. The way her pulse betrays her, the way she shivers. He’s cataloging every weakness.
He leans in close, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Next time?” His fingers ghost up her arm, slow and deliberate. “I return the favor.”
His touch brands her everywhere they connect—the unyielding press of his thigh against her softness, those merciless fingers claiming territory at her waist, his mouth awhisper away. The intoxicating warmth of his exhale teases her parted lips, and coherent thought fragments beneath the onslaught of sensation. She searches desperately for a sharp retort to reclaim the upper hand, but her body betrays her with each passing heartbeat.
His hand slides up, fingers ghosting along her chin with devastating precision. The touch sends electricity skittering across her skin as he tilts her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Her breath catches. The way he's looking at her - intent, focused, hungry - makes her want more. His eyes drop to her mouth, his thumb brushing over her chin with deliberate slowness. He leans in, closing the distance between them.
For one wild, reckless moment, her resistance crumbles.
The urge to let him kiss her, to taste him properly, to give in completely - it overwhelms her better judgment.
But reality crashes back in. She jerks back slightly, breaking the spell.
He goes still, his fingers flexing against her skin.
His eyebrows lift, amusement threading through his voice as he asks, "Problem?"
Kath forces herself to smirk, tilting her head with practiced seduction. “I think we both know where my mouth just was.”
His laugh cuts through the air—low, unhurried, and far too confident. That smile of his—God, that smile—curves slow and wicked across his face, and she can’t stop the tremor that races beneath her skin.
Chapter 13
Katherine
It was Saturday. Quiet. Safe.
Katherine lay curled on the couch, a blanket around her, fingers absently tapping against her mug as if silence alone might drown out the memory. The apartment was still, her body anything but.
She hadn’t meant for it to linger—but it did.
The taste of him.
The weight of the moment.
