Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

He’s been on his own for so long, he’s convinced himself anyone who gets close to him is waiting with one foot out the door. Ready to bail at the first sign of trouble.

I would’ve had to be blind to miss Morgan’s face when she found out I’d invited Alex to crash on her couch. She waited up for us and clearly wasn’t expecting to see Alex stumble through her front door, but it was obvious Will wasn’t the only one who’d had too much, and I felt bad leaving him there.

Plus, the way he looked at Morgan when he saw her in her tiny pajama shorts and tight tank top suggests she might thank me tomorrow.

“Come on.” I drag Will to Morgan’s guest room, nudging the already unfastened door open with my elbow and venturing inside. “Here you go.” I unlink Will’s arm from my shoulders, guiding him down onto the bed as gently as my lack of muscles allows me to.

I expect to hurry back to Morgan’s bedroom, pass out, and take it up with him tomorrow, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me because Will tugs on my hand, jerking me on top of him so suddenly a small screech escapes me.

His lips come down on mine before I can blink, sending my pulse through the roof. Part of me knows this is not the right time, but the other is relieved. In disbelief that this is happening.

I thought I’d lost him.

So, when he pins me down under him, slides his tongue into my mouth, and curves a hand inside my sweatpants… I let him. I’m not wearing any underwear, which gives him clear access to my—

Shiitt.

“Fuck,” he rasps against my mouth, slowly curling a finger in and out of me. “I need you, Kass. I need you so fucking bad. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

I know it’s probably just the alcohol talking, but the way he says it… It punches me in the feels.

He’s talking about my text, isn’t he?

“Will, you’re not yourself. Y-You need to sober up.”

“I don’t want to sober up.” He picks up the pace, easing a second finger inside me effortlessly and winning over a moan I kept locked up. His mouth connects with my neck, paying extra care to my collarbone, and I scold my body for disobeying my brain. I can feel his length digging into my thigh. “I want to fuck you so hard I forget what you did. I don’t want to be angry anymore. Let me forget,” he begs, withdrawing his fingers and flipping my T-shirt over my bare chest. I didn’t bother putting on a bra earlier. He grunts at the view, sucking my right nipple into his mouth with such pressure that my back arches.

This can’t be happening.

Not like this.

“Will, we can’t.” Heaven only knows how I find the resolve to push him away. My body pulsing with desire, I carry myself off the mattress, panting like I just ran a marathon. He stares as I smooth my T-shirt back down, putting much-needed distance between us.

He scoffs. “Right, I forgot… You gave up on me.”

Is he joking?

“Stop saying that. That’s not true.”

“Please.” He drops onto his back. “One peek into my life and you fucking ran. Then you wonder why I kept the truth from you.”

“I didn’t run! You pushed me away.”

Did he not get my gazillion texts this week?

He completely ignores me. “It’s fine. Can’t say that I blame you. She should’ve run, too.”

His voice decreases into a mumble.

“Then maybe she’d still be here.”

I can’t keep my nerves under control.

“Who?” I sit on the bed. “Who would still be here?”

The answer comes to me.

“Lyla?” My voice wavers.