Page 37 of The Bad Boy Rule

“Of course I want to. You’re here, aren’t you? That doesn’t mean you have to…”

“To what? Kiss you here?” I bring my fingers to her neck, ghosting them along the spot where my lips were just minutes ago. She shivers beneath my touch, her piercing green eyes widening. “Don’t forget, Golden Girl, that you’remineto kiss… touch… whatever I want. Even if it’s just for show.”

EIGHTEEN

LENNON

My face is burning as I sink down into the chair at the dinner table, the flush creeping down my neck and disappearing beneath the front of my dress. Every cell in my body feels like it’s on fire, and it has nothing to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with the far too tempting hockey player next to me.

I am so beyond in over my head.I’m his to “kiss and touch.”What thehellwas that, and why does it make my stomach dip just replaying the gravelly tone of his words?

Clearly, that champagne went straight to my head. I shouldn’t have drunk it on an empty stomach, and I absolutely should not be thinking about the way his lips felt as they brushed against my ea?—

“Lennon?” My father’s voice stirs me from my thoughts, and my face feels even hotter.

I clear my throat as I look up, gaze darting to Saint, who’s grinning like he’s just won something, then to my parents, who look slightly concerned still.

“Yes? Sorry, I was…” Saint kissing me in different places besides just behind my ear? Guilty. “Uh, just thinking about the test I have in my finance class.”

I’m going to crawl under this table any minute now.

“I was asking how the two of you met?” Mom asks as she swirls the red wine in her glass around slightly, wearing a knowing expression.

Shit.

I knew they’d ask questions, and I told Saint to go with the truth, but my mind is suddenly blanking, and I’m starting to panic until I feel his hand on the top of my thigh beneath the table. It’s warm and oddly… reassuring, even though I’m not sure if that’s what he meant it to be.

I suck in a deep breath, quickly gathering myself. He squeezes my thigh, and I fight the urge to press my legs together.

“We met at school,” I finally say, my words coming out in a rush. I reach beneath the table and try to pull his hand from my leg, but his fingers tighten.

No need to crawl beneath the table when I’m going to spontaneously combust. Why is my body being such a traitorous bitch when I hate this man?

I don’t understand.

Mom smiles. “Are you also majoring in business, Saint?”

I look over at him, praying that he doesn’t say something inherently ridiculous, which is the majority of what comes out of his mouth. “Nah. General studies. Just need to keep my grades passing so I can stay on the hockey team. I’m a left winger.”

“Oh, I see. I guess I’m just trying to figure out how the two of you… crossed paths?” She laughs airily. “Are your parents OU alumni?”

For a second, he’s quiet, something dark passing over his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“They’re not. I’m the only one in my family to go to college. First one out of the trailer park.” He chuckles, and Mom’s eyes widen. She looks over at my father with a cut of her eyes, nostrils slightly flaring.

Damn, he’s good.

“Ah, what an unlikely pairing between the two of you.” Her smile is strained as she lays down the backhanded insult.

What she really is saying is why am I with a hockey player, with no trust fund, no Roth IRA, no prestigious family name… no future.

At least not the one she and my father have been priming me for.

“Yeah, but this chemistry between us is just too fuc—” Saint starts, only to be interrupted by a flurry of waitstaff sweeping into the room, carrying the first course of the night. Plates of steaming steak, topped with garlic butter and greens, alongside roasted vegetables and fingerling potatoes.

Saved by the bell.

Relief floods me, my shoulders sagging. As much as it pains me to admit, Saint was right. We should’ve probably prepared better for this.

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