Page 18 of The One Bed Rule
“Thank you. Honestly,” I reply while not wanting to push the issue.
Seth rounds the corner carrying plates like he works in a restaurant, one in each hand and the other resting on his forearm.
“Omelettes,” he announces, carefully putting a plate in front of me and reaching for the other to hand to Jess.
Part of me thought she’d sit down with us, but instead, she thanks him and leaves us to it. Seth slides into the chair across from me and says, “Kept it simple with some cheese and roasted potatoes that were in the fridge.”
The omelette looks perfect; the cheese is melted and the smell of potatoes, salt, and pepper makes my mouth water. Damn, this man can cook.
“Were you a chef in your past life or…?” I jokingly ask, as I take a bite and relish in how great it tastes.
Smirking, he answers, “No. Just a firefighter. I was the go-to in the kitchen, so I picked up a thing or two.”
There’s this moment where something flashes in his eyes. It’s hard to place, but it felt like there was more to the story and he cut it short. I mean, there’s a reason he’s not a fire fighter now, and I can’t imagine some of the things he must’ve seen. Maybe it’s hard to go back to that time in his life? I try not to dwell on it and instead practically inhale the omelette.
He watches me over his coffee, then grins. “So, you really are a rule follower, huh?”
I shrug, pretending to be very focused on my omelette, but I was sort of waiting for him to bring it up. “I mean, you made the rule, knowing damn well who I am.”
He laughs over the coffee mug, “To be honest, part of me thought you’d tell me to get lost.” His shoulders shrug.
I glance up. “Wow. So you’rethatguy. Makes the rules just to see if someone will break them.”
He sips his coffee slowly. “Not typically. But I was very eager to see if you’d follow it.” The words from his mouth roam over my body, itching me to get closer to him. The way his gaze pins me to this spot–he knows what he’s doing.
Fuck it. I’m just here to follow the rules.
Sixteen
Seth
ClaireandIarewearing matching The Fable Inn sweatshirts and trying to stay warm in front of the fireplace. The crewnecks are this dark green color, one of my favorites—nothing like getting a little souvenir from being stormed in.
The sounds of tiles hitting the board pull me back to our scrabble game.
“Wait. You can’t play that,” I argue, as the word BLOWJOB stares up at me. She added the ‘JOB’ to ‘BLOW’ which I played a few turns ago.
“So, you’re telling me this isn’t house rules?” She sits back, waiting for my response.
“House rules? We’re at some random inn.” I gesture to the room around us.
“Fine, inn rules. Even better. You can play any words you want. Slang, whatever, as long as the other person has heard of it.”
I nod along and it’s hard not to agree with her.
“I assume you’ve heard of a BLOWJOB. Yes?” Claire teases me, looking down at my shorts, and back up again.
She says it in a way that heats my blood, knowing she had my dick in her mouth only a few hours ago. It’s hard not to get distracted when she looks at me like that.
“Yes. Heard of them. Big fan actually.” I grab the notepad which we’re using to keep score and wait for her to count her points. “Do you get credit for what you added or the whole word?”
“Whole word,” she’s quick to reply. “Obviously.” There’s the confident side of her I’ve always been enamored with. There’s something incredible about a strong, confident woman like her.
I like her this way. All light and funny. No part of me could’ve ever seen this coming, playing a game of Scrabble where Claire just played an oral sex term, while wearing matching crewnecks. Even if I wanted to run, there’s nowhere for me to go.
But I don’t want to.
Besides run her upstairs to our room. Have her all to myself.
