Rule's Obsession (The House of Rule 1)

"Do you think he'll ask?"

Angie glanced back and could plainly see the man staring in their direction. "Oh, yeah. He's going to ask."

Damian's mother blushed once again and with that, Angie turned to give Mr. Harris her attention.

****

That evening, after being herded into the bedroom, stripped of clothes and made love to within an inch of her life, Angie clutched the sheet to her bare breasts and peeked over at Damian. He appeared to be either falling asleep or deep in thought. Angie knew what she had to do. "Your mother really gave me the third degree today."

He pulled his arm from where it lay resting over his eyes and snagged her with his gaze. "She had another hair appointment today?"

She nodded, pursing her lips.

His brows came together in a frown. "How bad was she?"

"She wasn't bad, Damian. She's sweet, but she asked a lot of leading questions. Again."

"And?"

Angie shrugged, and at the movement, his attention strayed down to her bare shoulder. Her stomach clenched with butterflies in immediate reaction. Weren't butterflies supposed to go away after a while? When would that stop happening, exactly? Trying to wrestle her unruly body under control, she answered, "She asked about a lot of things. She wanted me to talk about how good-looking you are, she wanted to know if we'd seen each other lately, if you seemed interested in me."

His forehead creased and a muscle flicked furiously at his jaw. It was obvious he was angry at his mother's interference, and Angie didn't want to make it worse. "She didn't mean anything by it; it's obvious she loves you very much. I held her off with the 'friends' line again, but it felt like a lie. I get that this is casual," she waved her hand between them, "but I had to intimate to her that we hadn't seen each other at all, and I'm not comfortable with that."

"What's the big deal? The appointment is over, even if she comes back to the salon again, you shouldn't have to see her for a month or more."

Angie shook her head. "Wrong. She's coming again next week."

"What the fuck for?"

"She said she enjoys our time together and wants to pamper herself again. Since she doesn't like massages," Angie repeated his mother's words to him, "She's going to come in for a deep-conditioning treatment and a style."

"Shit," he grunted through clenched teeth.

"I'm not going to keep lying to her, Damian."

"What are you going to tell her, Angie? That we're fucking like rabbits every chance we get because I can't keep my goddamn hands off you?"

A shard of pain pierced her heart. "That's not very smooth." She paused before asking, "How do you think that makes me feel?"

"What's wrong with it?" A circle of ice ringed his mouth. "It's the truth."

"Are you saying you only come here because you can't keep from it? Are you saying you don't want to see me?"

His eyes narrowed to slits as he watched her in silence.

"That's it, isn't it? You're actually trying to stay away." Angie clutched the sheet as she sat up, immediate hurt sliding through her heart. "So what's the draw exactly? The whole Goth element?" She kept her tone flat, trying not to betray her pain. "Something you've never had before that makes sex exciting again for a staid, cynical guy like you?"

His mouth thinned in displeasure. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." She swung her feet to the floor. "I'm going to shower now. You can let yourself out."

He raised himself on one elbow and leaned forward, swiping his hand out with a sudden motion and encapsulating her wrist with his fingers. "You think you can dismiss me that easily, baby?" His mouth twisted, and if it was supposed to be a smile, it held no humor.

As his grasp tightened and he began to draw her to him with a firm, inexorable pull, Angie's heart rate escalated and she breathed in shallow bursts of oxygen. She refused to let him have his way in this, no matter that the mere touch of his skin against hers intoxicated her. "I don't have a problem with a casual relationship, Damian." She was assailed with a bitterness that she didn't want to feel. "I do have a problem with you hating yourself because you can't stay away from me."

He pulled her toward him until she lost balance and landed with her hands on his chest. "I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth."

"Whatever." She ached with an inner disappointment. How the hell had she developed feelings for him when she'd specifically warned herself not to? It was obvious that he didn't feel the same. "I'm sticky and tired. I need a shower."

"I'm not ready to leave."

"Fine. Stay." Angie sat up and pulled at her wrist that was still banded within his fingers. He narrowed his eyes in silent warning, but finally released her. She fled to the bathroom to take a shower, and hopefully, to find a modicum of peace.