Page 36 of The Rules

She huffed a breath. “Well, then, I think you should consider what that means in terms of—”

Dylan stopped her with a finger to her lips. His eyes narrowed and a tiny muscle in his jaw twitched. “New proposition,” he said. “You, me, let’s get out of here.”

“What? Where?”

“Follow me.” He was tugging on her wrist before she even had a chance to answer, her sparkly peep-toe heels wobbling as she rushed to keep pace.

The Swell had a long, narrow hallway where the bathrooms were located, but Dylan went for a third door, unmarked and at the end of the row.

“What is this?”

“Closet.” He spun her around until she was inside the small room, and closed the door.

“Why are we in it?”

“Because you’re turning me on with all your rules talk. I needed to do this.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard, smiling as he pulled away.

“This isn’t part of the deal,” she whispered sharply, her heart pounding.

Dylan trailed a finger down the side of her throat, then tipped her chin with his thumb. Electricity zinged in her belly and she tipped her head to the side, letting him suck at the skin beneath her ear.

“So what?” he said, breathing the words against her ear.

“This is stupid,” she hissed. “We’re going to get caught, Dylan!”

God, she sounded like a schoolmarm. When did she become so rigid? This whole soulmate journey was already dulling her edge. Or maybe it was just that she was stuck in a closet with the one person who’d always had her beat.

Dylan smiled against her lips, taking the bottom one between his teeth. “Caught by who, and who cares?”

“I don’t know, any one of our friends?” But she was already pressed against him, her neck and chest damp from the lack of air conditioning and breathing room. If anyone walked in now, they’d be caught before he even touched her. And too late for that, since he’d already hiked her leg up around his waist.

“No one is gonna know, Dani-pie.” He reached between them and flicked open the button on her jeans.

“You’re serious?” She couldn’t help her giggle when she thought about stuffy Christian Graham balking at a frozen cocktail last weekend. Now look at her.

“I am if you are,” Dylan said.

Screw it. She’d never been good at being the adult in the room. She dove her fingers into his thick messy hair and pulled his face back to hers while Dylan reached for his wallet.

She could just picture Cat’s face if she caught them. In high school, when Dani had confessed to Cat that she’d had sex with Jimmy Hamill under the bleachers after the championship football game, Cat had been appalled. She’d stood there against their lockers, her arms full of A.P textbooks, gaping at Dani. “You’re going to end up pregnant!” she’d cried. “And then what, Dani? You won’t be doing keg stands on the weekends, that’s for sure.”

“Oh my God!”

Dylan’s head shot up, alarmed. “What?”

“Do you think Cat’s pregnant?”

“What?” he repeated, more forcefully.

“Is that why she looks like she’s been run over by a truck?” Details sorted themselves out in her brain. “She wasn’t drinking on the Fourth and she slept through half the party. She’s not drinking today either!”

“Jesus, Dani.” He glanced between them, his fly hanging open, his voice a little out of breath.

“Sorry. Mood killer. I didn’t mean to—it just popped into my head.”

“Well, pop it back out.” He dove back into her neck, then paused. “You’re on the pill, right?”

“Yes.”

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