Page 56 of The Equation of Us

I clean the already clean apartment. Shower. Change. Check the time. 6:42. Still hours before Nora will arrive.

I try to work on my Archer Initiative application, but my focus is shot. All I can think about is Nora with Kyle. Nora at my door. Nora in my bed.

Finally, at 8:56, there’s a knock at my door.

When I open it, she’s standing there in jeans and a simple blue sweater, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. No makeup. No pretense. Just Nora, looking up at me with those clear, perceptive eyes.

“Hey,” she says, her voice neutral despite the tension vibrating between us.

“Hey.” I step back, letting her in. “How was your weekend?”

“Fine. Yours? How was the game?”

“We won.” I close the door, watching as she sets her bag down and removes her coat. There’s a slight nervousness to her movements, a tension I haven’t seen before.

“That’s good,” she says, turning to face me. “So… you wanted to talk?”

The directness is so quintessentially Nora. No games, no evasion.

Just cutting straight to the heart of it.

“Yeah.” I step closer, into her space. “About Friday night.”

She doesn’t back away, doesn’t drop her gaze. “What about it?”

“Kyle Evans had his hands on you.” The words come out harder than I intended, an edge I usually keep carefully controlled slipping through.

“He did,” she agrees, watching my face. “And?”

“And I didn’t like it.” Another step closer, close enough now to smell her shampoo, to see the slight acceleration of her pulse at the base of her throat.

“No jealousy,” she says quietly. “That was one of our rules.”

“I know.” I reach up, brushing a strand of hair back from her face, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. “I’m breaking it.”

Her breath catches, eyes widening slightly. “Dean…”

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” I say, my voice dropping lower. “Tell me you didn’t like him touching you.”

“I didn’t,” she says immediately, no hesitation. “It made me uncomfortable.”

“Good.” The word comes out rough, almost a growl. “Because you’re mine, Nora. At least for now. At least while we’re doing this.”

Her pupils dilate, a flush rising to her cheeks. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

“I’m changing the terms.” I slide my hand to the back of her neck, firm but gentle. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me this isn’t what you want, and I’ll back off.”

She doesn’t say anything, just looks up at me with those clear, analytical eyes, like she’s solving a complex equation.

“I don’t share,” I continue, my thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Not even temporarily. Not even casually. That’s not who I am.”

“I’m not asking you to share,” she says softly. “I told you I didn’t like him touching me. I meant it.”

Relief and desire crash through me in equal measure. I lean down, my lips a breath away from hers. “Good.”

The kiss is different from our others—harder, more possessive. I back her up against the door, one hand still at her neck, the other at her waist, holding her against me. She makes a small, surprised sound that quickly turns into a moan as I deepen the kiss.

My hand slides up under her sweater, finding warm skin. Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer, her body arching into mine. The feel of her, responsive and eager, driveseverything else from my mind—the game, Kyle, our rules. Nothing matters except Nora in my arms.

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