Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

“What are you doing in here?”

“We weren’t done talking.” He pushes off the wall, stalking toward me with that carnal look in his eyes.

I know that look.

Normally, I’d love that look.

Especially seeing as I’m dying to make things right between us, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t be late to work. I step backward, which only incites him to move closer.

“Now, where were we?” He stops to think. “Right, I was about to do this.”

He shocks me with a desperate, needy kiss, cupping my face and sealing our opened scars with a single move. His lips rain down on mine, dispatching shivers all over my body. I’m not going to pretend I don’t kiss him back. Or that I put up the semblance of a fight—I don’t. I allow his tongue into my mouth, welcome it, and lose myself into his arms, this kiss, this moment.

I lose myself, trying to find him.

An oxygen shortage tears us apart, and I’m left with nothing but the aftermath of his touch: a racing heart, erratic breathing.

This lust.

And one burning question.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” I clasp his shirt into my fist, drawing a long, conflicted breath out of him.

He nods.

“I forgive you.”

I smile, over the moon.

He presses his forehead to mine. “What you did was fucked-up, but I can’t blame you for wanting to know more about me. I haven’t exactly been an open book, and… frankly, if I’d received a text saying you were staying at some motel, I would’ve gone and checked, too.”

His admission relieves me.

Is he finally ready to open up to me?

“In that case, I have questions.”

He sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I figured you would. Which is why I got Ethan to cover your shift.”

“What?” I pull back. “How?”

Ethan hates working on weekends. Will must’ve spun him one hell of a tale.

“Told him you were feeding the homeless, which, in a way, you are.”

What on earth?

“Come on, hop in the shower, put on something pretty. I have to go get my car. Pick you up in an hour.” He dashes toward the exit.

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what we’re doing?”

I watch him swing the door open, dumbfounded.

“You wanted to see my life, didn’t you?”

He shoulder-checks me.