Page 112 of Changing Rules

Bella blinks, and between one heartbeat and the next, that damn unreadable mask slips over her face. “I’ll go with you.”

I step aside and let them pass. As her hair sways, something on her neck catches my attention.

No way.Bella has a tattoo?

I can’t help but smile as I watch her walk to the bar. I’m filled with curiosity and the desire to know more.

God, she’s full of surprises.

“No.”I shake my head.

Marco frowns. “What do you meanno? Colin Farrell is the star of the movie.”

“He’s great, but didn’t you see Matthew McConaughey? Ten out of fucking ten.”

“I don’t get why none of you have even mentioned Hugh Grant,” Josh comments.

In answer, Garcia gives us a middle finger.

With a laugh, I pick up my bottle of water and twist the cap. I’m bringing it to my lips when Bella leans over the table, reaching for her drink, and places her hand on my knee for balance. Her strawberry scent overwhelms me, sending a rush of energy from my head to my toes.

Be cool. Be cool!

I do my best, chugging my water. All the while, my heart hammers in my chest.

“You’re all wrong,” she says as she straightens, taking her hand off my knee. Her eyes meet mine. “Charlie Hunnam was better than all of them.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, I’m assaulted with the memory of getting her off in the movie theater.

Fuck me.

Her eyes twinkle.Damn. She’s playing me, and I fucking love it.

The girls have spent most of the last hour dancing, though they come back to the table for drinks and chitchat every so often. Not gonna lie, when a few guys approached them, it almost killed me to stay where I was. But when the girls made it clear they weren’t interested, I’d never seen anything hotter.

“You likedTheGentlemen?” Josh asks.

She nods. “Loved it.”

Marco whistles. “Wow. Meg left me on my own fifteen minutes into it. You’re a fucking star, Izzy.”

She winks at him.

“I didn’t think you were a Guy Ritchie fan.” I set my bottle on the table. I’m teasing her. We watched every one of his movies together, and she loved most of them.

“Guy Ritchie fan or not, I watched it forCharlie.”

When she wraps her lips around her straw and sips her nonalcoholic Aperol Spritz, my pants get a little too tight.

I shift, discreetly adjusting myself as she leans forward and sets her glass down.

“But Guy’s movies kinda grew on me.”

As if I’m hypnotized, I stand and hold out a hand. “Dance with me. Please?”

Her eyes glimmer in the strobe lights of the club as she studies me. And when she places her hand in mine, I have to resist the urge to pump my fist.

Silently, she leads me to the dance floor, being sure to put distance between us and Meg and Jess, who are already dancing. She stops, and I step in close. The whole place throbs, the bass thumping in my chest. Bella dances, moving her hips sensually, her eyes on me. I’m enraptured. Ensnared. Engulfed in the heat that burns between us.

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