Page 67 of Unwritten Rules

“By being a man slut?” I laughed and kicked him.

Having a heart to heart with the punchiest man I’ve ever seen was also not on my bingo card this year.

“If that’s how you want to label it. The baseball star. The playboy. The guy no one wants to mess with because he’ll kick the shit out of you. My grandfather didn’t get the title ‘Dictator’ for no reason. He expects rigidity. Excellence.” He let out a sigh and looked over at me. The softness in his eyes came through. “So why give a damn about anything? You’re the first one to put up a challenge and it’s different–I like it.”

“Different? Weren’t you just saying–”

“Yes, different. You sat and had food with me. Despite your protest, you came out with me a second time. Normally, I get hit up and it’s a quick fuck and I dip.”

I cringed.

He continued. “If they wanted more out of me, it wasafterI fucked them. You didn’t even seem to want to come within a ten-mile radius of me half the time.”

Looking at him, he was just another egotistical guy. Tattoos. Short hair. Leather jacket. The guy who rode a motorcycle to get girls to drop their panties, smoked like it was his second language, and fought like he had nothing to lose. Like he didn’t care about anything or anyone, kept everyone at arm’s length, except when it came to the girls whodiddrop their panties.

And he criticized my discernment skills. Asshole.

“I’ve never really thought about getting my rocks off. That’s never happened anyway.”

Propped up on his elbow now, he stared at me in the dark. “It’s because you want something real.”

“If only people were real,” I sighed, flopping my arms out. “Your jacket is in my closet, by the way.”

His hand found its way to my arm, his touch somewhere between comforting and seductive. A fine line to walk. The warmth of his skin on mine sent a shiver through me.

“I’ll be sure to let your groupies know that they can’t have it.”

Carefully, I laced my fingers in his out of curiosity. It sent a message of sorts–a welcoming one perhaps. He considered it for a moment looking down at our hands linked of my own volition. He could assume what he wanted. He was warm and comfortable, and I wanted to have a little of it for a moment.

“Question for a question?” Knowing I’d regret another thing, I added it to the list anyway.

He didn’t answer with words. The pillows were brought down, and we propped ourselves up while he looked at me suspiciously.

To start us off in an insane manner, I asked, “So have you ever slept with a virgin?”

His eyes went wide, the surprise abundantly clear on his face for the second time today. “Damn, went straight to it, Blondie.” He breathed out slowly, tracing soft circles on my hand with his thumb. A touch that sent a warm pulse through my skin. “If you must know, yes. Have you ever touched yourself?”

I started this, so why was I shocked? My cheeks heated up and I hesitated to answer. “Um, can I pass?”

He shook his head, a devious smile playing on his lips. “Nope. You asked, now you answer.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “A couple of times, but I have no clue what I’m doing. Outside of me, have you ever been on a date that didn’t end up with hooking up with them?”

He paused for a moment, weighing his answer. “A couple of times,” he finally admitted. His voice dropped low, almost seductive. “Have you kissed anyone but me?”

I bit my lip. “I’m sure you know of one, but outside of him? No.” Saying it out loud made me feel like I was stripping myself bare in front of him, exposing it all. “Did you expect me to sleep with you at all?” This question was going to give me something I didn’t know that I wanted.

The space between us shrank as he shifted closer to me. “Not at all. You intrigued the hell out of me and I wanted to figure out why.” His eyes darkened as he asked, “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

Our conversation started a warmth low in my belly that I didn’t want to think about, but I started it all. Thinking about the crazy things I’ve done–which I could probably count on one hand–I only came up with everything I’ve done with him. “It’s a tie between getting on your bike or kissing you in my closet.” I tried to keep my voice steady, despite my hummingbird heart fluttering away in my chest. “What’s the craziest thing the infamous Brent Vaughn has done?”

He answered quickly and without hesitation. “Getting interested in you. What’s the first thing you thought when you saw me?”

I laughed, remembering the warning Kelly gave me about him. “When Kelly warned me about you after coming back from shopping. It’s funny because I thought to myself ‘this guy looks full of himself’ as I watched you instigating fights in your own front yard. When did you see me first?”

He started playing with my hair as he had a teasing smile on his lips. “Sometime earlier than that. I saw you in the neighborhood and wasverygrateful to have you as a neighbor. Why did you kiss me in the closet?”

I slapped his chest. “You wouldn’t stop talking about it! Why did youwantto kiss me?”

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