Page 103 of The Bad Boy Rule

“I like it, blondie.” He grins.

Is my best friend…flirtingwith Bennett?

I turn to look at Saint, and his dark brow is lifted, eyes bouncing between our friends, and I’m fairly certain he’s thinking the very same thing.

“Thanks for coming tonight.I know ‘peopling’ isn’t really your thing,” I whisper to Saint as we walk out onto the covered back patio of Jack’s, the humid night air blanketing us like a cloak. In most places around the country, it’s turning to fall, and though leaves have already started to fall in New Orleans, we’re in the middle of hurricane season, and the days are still hot and ungodly humid.

We escaped when Bennett and Maisie get lost in a very intense “discussion” about ocean conservation. He had absolutely no idea what he was getting into by bringing up sea turtles around my tie-dye, Earth-loving best friend.

Saint’s shoulder moves in a shrug. “Apparently,you’remy thing, Golden Girl.” His words warm my insides, sending my heart into overdrive as it beats wildly.

“Am I?” I can barely get them out of my mouth because I’m trembling.

He nods. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Lennon. And I’m fuckingterrified.Terrified that I’m going to fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me, terrified that I’ll never be worthy of you no matter how hard I try. But you’re in here.” His fingers curve around my wrist as he lifts my hand and places it on his chest, directly over his heart. “In so fucking deep.”

I try to ignore the heavy swell in my chest as the steady, strong beat of his heart thrums beneath my palm, but it’s no use.

“I don’t know what it means, and I have no fucking clue where to go from here… I just know that I don’t want to bewithout you. Ican’tbe without you, baby.” I feel the sting of tears prick behind my eyes when his voice cracks, like it’s raw from emotion.

In a single breath, I’m colliding against his hard, unyielding body, my arms flying around his neck and squeezing him to me as I bury my face into his neck. His strong arms wrap around my back as he lifts me and holds me tightly against him, my feet dangling in the air.

“I’m shit with words… expressing how I feel, Lennon. I’m probably saying all the wrong things, but I’ve never had to communicate any other way than physically,” he whispers raggedly against my hair. And I swear I can actually feel my heart fracturing.

The unspoken words hang so heavily in the air I might choke.

His dad’s abuse. His inability to commit past a hookup, his reputation on the ice. His hesitation to connect with anyone.

I tighten my arms around him as I press my lips to his neck, desperate to somehow get closer, to speak in the only way that he knows how to. In the way that’s comfortable to him. “It’s okay, Saint. It’s enough for me.Youare enough for me. I don’t need the perfect words; I just need you. However that needs to be, okay? We’re just going to beus.That’s it.”

It feels easy to say in the midst of all the complicated because being with Saintiseffortless.

Falling for him was as easy as breathing. I think I actually started to fall long before I ever realized it. I was filling my lungs with pieces of him this whole time, never once noticing that he was tangling himself inside of me.

“Don’t leave me. Please, baby,” he whispers, the desperate words so low that I barely hear them, his arms tightening around me as if he’s terrified of the thought.

FORTY-SEVEN

SAINT

The only thing I’m even remotely going to enjoy about tonight is Lennon in this damn dress.

I’m half-hard behind the zipper of my pants with no sign of going down anytime soon as I watch her smooth down the black velvet fabric clinging to her body.

I nearly swallowed my fucking tongue when I watched her bunch the dress around the top of her thighs, swing her stiletto over the seat, and settle onto the back of my bike like she’d done it a thousand times before.

It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been thinking about taking her back home and saying fuck this stupid-ass gala, one that neither of us really wants to attend in the first place. I’d much rather spend my night buried inside of her, making her come until she blacks out and my balls are empty.

Yeah, my imagination is running fucking wild with her in that dress and heels.

It also seems pretty damn fitting that the first time she rode my bike was while she was wearing some vintage, expensive-ass ball gown on the way to another stupid fucking gala for her father.

A stark contrast to the girl she was when I first met her to who she is now.

“What?” she asks, her eyes widening when she catches me staring. “Is my ass showing?”

I chuckle, stepping closer and wrapping my arm around her waist. I want to kiss the fuck out of her, but I don’t want to mess up the makeup that she spent far too long putting on.

She doesn’t need any of that shit. She’s beautiful either way, but I do love the bright red lips.

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