Page 45 of Rules

Never again.

I’ll never be the victim again.

I open my eyes just in time to watch the door open and close smoothly. My whole body is still, alert, sensitive to everything around me. With my gaze, I follow the shadow move around the dark room.

The person moves effortlessly, like even in the darkness he knows where everything is and how not to make much noise. When the thumping of the blood in my veins subsides, I realize that’s because heknowswhere everything is. He knows this space because it’shisspace. His bedroom.

I’m not sure if I want to sigh in relief or start to panic again.

He shouldn’t be here.

Max still doesn’t see me. His back is turned to the bed, and I watch his fingers grip the back of his hoodie and pull it over his head, along with the T-shirt underneath it.

Even in the darkness, I still notice his tanned skin. He has one of those olive complexions that makes it seem like he has a tan year-round. His muscles move, tightening and relaxing in that classic guy move. You know which one I’m talking about. When they grip the shirt from the base of their neck and pull it off in what seems like the slowest of slow motions just so the female population can enjoy the view a few seconds longer.

The hoodie falls to the floor with a softthud, and before I know it, his pants follow suit.

I can feel my eyes go wide as I look at his firm ass hugged in the tightest pair of black boxer briefs. My mouth goes dry, tongue darting out to wet my suddenly dry lips.

Maximillian Sanders is one irritating fucker, but he’s one irritatingly handsome fucker too. Even I can’t deny that.

His dark hair is a disheveled mess. Black like night, it makes his light, silver eyes stand out. His nose is straight, cheekbones prominent. His jaw square, and because of his dark complexion, it’s usually covered by light stubble before school is done for the day. And his lips, so plump and reddish you’d think the only thing that guy does is kiss.

“…the fuck?!” The hushed holler startles me and makes me jump off the bed.

“Shhh! You’ll wake the whole house!”

“Do I look like I fucking care?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing with the motion and making the black ink stand out. “The hell, Brook? What are you doing here?”

He looks at me expectedly, making me nervous. Sighing, I get in a sitting position and pull the blanket tightly around me. Unlike Max, who seems comfortable even though he’s virtually naked, I want to keep every possible barrier between us.

“I was trying to sleep before you barged in and woke the whole neighborhood.”

His eyes narrow at me. “In my bed? What are you doing in my bed, Brook?”

“Jeanette let me crash here for the night.” I summarize the facts. He doesn’t need to know more than that. “She said you’d be out and she’d let you know, in case you do come home, that your bed is occupied. Apparently, she forgot.”

“Apparently,” he agrees stoically.

The silence falls over us. I stare at him, partly because I don’t know what to say, but a small part of me can’t avert my gaze from his body.

God, he’s beautiful.

While most of our class consists of boys, Max is all man. He’s tall, well over six feet and towering over me. His body is toned and lean, every muscle sculptured to perfection.

Imposing.

Just like his attitude.

And let’s not forget the black ink adorning his upper arm. It’s usually covered, but now I can see the faint lines of his tribal tattoo.

“Whatever…” His arms disentangle and fall to his sides as he walks to the other side of the bed. Or what would be the other side of the bed if I didn’t sleep in the middle.

“W-what are you doing?” My voice stutters as I watch him pull the blankets aside and sit on the edge.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Going to sleep.”

“In here?”

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