Page 87 of The Bad Boy Rule

It seems to be the theme of tonight, baring ourselves for the other to see.

Saint’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “You are perfect, and if anyone makes you think any differently, then I’ll fuck them up.”

It’s serious yet ridiculous at the same time, and I giggle softly before a yawn hits me. I can’t stop it, and my hand travels to my mouth to cover it.

“I almost forgot that it’s the middle of the night.” Looking back at the clock on my nightstand, I see it’s after 3:00 am. “No wonder my eyes feel so heavy.”

“I can take the couch.”

My brow arches. “Oh? Have you suddenly become a gentleman?”

“Shut up,” he growls playfully, fingers pressing into my side. “It’s your house, Lennon. Whatever you want is what happens.”

Holding his gaze, I take a step back toward my bed, then another, and another until I drop down onto the edge. “And what I want is for you to sleep right here beside me.”

His feet stay planted into the floor as he stares back at me, hesitation flickering in the depths of his eyes.

My eyebrow lifts. “You can stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. Since we’re so good at that.” The words are playful, unfalteringly confident in a way that only comes from the shift that seems to have happened between us tonight.

Saint cares about me as much as I care about him, and him showing up, him trusting me, after everything he went through today proves that.

I move towards the headboard and slip beneath the covers when he finally, finally moves toward me, still wearing nothing but a towel that barely covers him.

I one hundred percent realize that I am quite literally inviting temptation into my bed, and maybe that’s exactly what I want.

But I also just want to be close to him. I don’t want him to sleep alone, to deal with all of the heavy solitude anymore.

Saint crawls over the covers and slips beneath them beside me. His feet are so long that they hang out of the bottom. He’s so big that there’s barely any room left in the bed. The space between us is far smaller than I anticipated.

I switch the lamp off and then roll onto my side, staring over at him.

There’s still a hurricane happening outside, so the moon is tucked away behind thick clouds, and the only light in the room is the soft, dim glow of the night-light coming from the bathroom.

My gaze travels the sharp slope of his nose and cheekbones, pausing on his bruised eye, the pang of concern returning. His lips are full, the spot where it’s busted even more swollen, and despite having his face battered tonight, he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

He turns to look at me, and my mouth curls into a small smile. “I like this. Having you here.”

“Me too.”

A comfortable, easy silence sits between us as we look at each other, unmoving, just breathing, drinking the other in. His shoulders slant as he angles more toward me, reaching for a lock of my hair and twirling it absentmindedly around his finger, the motion nearly lulling me to sleep.

If it wasn’t for the heat beginning to pool in my lower belly at the proximity, his lips only inches from mine, maybe I could fall asleep.

But right now, I just want him totouchme.

Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around his wrist and slowly drag his hand to my chest, placing it there.

I watch the column of his throat move with a rough, uneven swallow. “We’ve never been great at following the rules, have we, Golden Girl,” he murmurs, his voice dropping low.

The rule flitting through my brain has nothing to do with the lines on the ice or the side of the bed we said we’d stay on.

Never fall for the bad boy.

The rule was simple.

Easy.

Except somewhere along the way, I think I broke the one and only rule there was.

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