Page 42 of Rules in Love
Fuck. I’m so damn hard I’m gonna split my suit.
Unsurprisingly, an erection beneath a codpiece is not at all comfortable. However, I remained eternally grateful I had worn the hard, plastic thingamajig when she slammed our bodies together.
The way she dragged me from the restaurant and out onto the balcony was the sexiest thing I had ever experienced. I could have resisted, but that would have defeated the purpose. I wanted her to take me. And I would happily have followed her off any cliff she led me to.
Running my hands through my hair, I smacked my lips. My mouth was so dry. Sweat ran down my back. Everything about me was tight. The costume wasn’t helping, but this feeling was deeper than the Lycra, nylon, and spandex. Scarlett was changing me from the inside out. My muscles, my mind, my heart. All were being dismantled and rebuilt in her image. All I could think of were her soft, parted lips. She’d only been gone for seconds, but I missed their feel and taste. Kissing Scar like that, being kissed by her like that, went against every promise I’d made for weeks, but I couldn’t take it anymore. Resistance was useless. Scarlett Grant with swollen lips and freshly hand-tousled hair was the most dangerous creature on earth, and I had to have her.
I folded myself over the edge of the balcony, seeking relief in the cool night air but was foiled again by New York’s balmy nights. “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.” Yet again, Evie’s stupid breathing techniques were doing nothing of merit.
“Songggg!” Someone was happy with the song choice. I laughed to myself and took another slow, deep breath. And then it hit me… “Bye Bye Baby” by the Bay City Rollers. Shelby loved this song. She was obsessed withLove Actuallyand played the soundtrack ad nauseum. Three annoyingly catchy and high-pitched lines in, and I was no longer a man on a balcony in New York, waiting for a woman. I was a boy in a hospital room in Byron Bay, saying goodbye.
“Look at her, Finn. Our little Iris is perfect.” We shared a sweet kiss—our first as parents—then laughed, and cried, and stared into the beauty of our babe. It was the moment of all moments, the beginning of life. Everything went quiet, and for a split second, all was peaceful.
Until it wasn’t.
Until it was loud and frantic and…
“Shelby… Shelby!”
Then it was the end.
Twenty-two minutes and fifty-two seconds. That was how quickly my world turned upside down. Twenty-two minutes and fifty-two seconds of electrical jumpstarts, shots of adrenaline, rib-cracking compressions, whispered promises, and goodbyes. From king of the mountain to…to nothing. From the inception of a family to a single dad. Twenty-two minutes and fifty-two seconds was all it took.
“Taking a break, young man? Me too. It’s terribly loud in there, isn’t it?” Before greeting Herman Wise, I dried my tears and willed myself to keep it together. “I don’t know what I was thinking of asking for a party like this. I’m too old for this shit.” I forced a chuckle as he stood beside me and leaned over the railing as I had just been doing. I’d usually been observing the man with such contempt I’d never noticed how big he was. He was almost as tall as me and broad, but old and tired. “Do you know why I’m taking an early retirement?”
“I don’t, sir, no.” I did. Herman Wise was not retiring. Perhaps it was the strong female influence in my upbringing that impacted my initial skin-crawling judgment of him—one that was justified on seeing his interactions with my female co-workers. The man was one touch away from the predator club, if not already a card-carrying member. His very presence was a cancer to the firm. Scrubbing in on the surgery to remove him and keeping Scarlett and the other women safe via my influential aunt was the greatest achievement and honor in my short career—and yet another secret I was keeping from Scarlett.
An odd, almost relieved look flashed across his face, and he hit me with a sleazy smile. “Enough of that ‘sir’ garbage. It’s Herman. And I am retiring because my fourth wife, whom I met in this office ten years ago, has divorced me. I can no longer afford to pay her alimony and live in the city—not to the standard I desire, anyway.” He gulped from his drink, closing his eyes and letting it sink in before continuing. “Austen, I’ve seen your heart eyes, as my grandkids call it, over that piece of tail Scarlett Grant. It’s none of my business, but I want to give you a friendly warning.” He poked his bony finger into my chest, splashing me with lemon and gin. “Don’t make the same mistakes as me. Don’t dip your quill into the office pot.”
I nodded in confused understanding and watched as he continued to talk, drink, and drink. “You’d think I would have learned by the time I had divorced the third wife, but I didn’t. And now, it’s time for me to pack up and move on. And that’s exactly what you should do. She’s got a bright future, that one does,” he said, pointing to the slowly approaching Scarlett, who was watching us speak. “You do too. Don’t let long legs and a pretty smile take that future and flush it down the toilet.”
Apparently satisfied that he had ruined my mood and night, he staggered away. Passing Scarlett, he tipped his head in greeting and continued walking but looked back and checked out her ass in the process. What an asshole. The damn fool hadn’t learned a thing.
“Miss me?” A tiny bag, only able to fit her phone, a bank card, and lip gloss, sat in one hand. The other teased and caressed my chest and stomach. “Take me home, Finn.”
Scarlett took my hand and led me toward the side exit. My body followed obediently, but my mind was somewhere else.
“Shelby… Shelby!”
Something shifted inside me. “Wait, Red. I think that maybe…maybe I shouldn’t take you home. I think we shouldn’t do this. We should stay.” A solitary heartbeat was all it took for her beautiful face to twist from playfulness to heartbreak. Her hand, so tiny when held within mine, slipped from my grasp, and she froze.
“What do you mean? Don’t you want me?”
I stepped toward her and slid my hand around her waist, fiercely pulling her to me. “Don’t want you? Fuck, Scarlett. I want you so bad that thinking, breathing, existing hurts. But my life…it’s complicated, and messy, and…” It was a split-second decision. Tell her that the words of my dead ex-girlfriend haunted me? That I was terrified of love, of giving my heart to someone and losing them again? That I was going home to Byron as soon as I could? Or give her a bullshit excuse that would buy me time?
“You did have a lot of those Jell-O shots. They seemed pretty lethal. I don’t want to take advantage of you. And, hey, you know what they say about dipping your quill in the office inkpot.”
Borrowing the words of a sexist old fool was not a wise decision. It was completely fucking stupid, and rightly, Scarlett did not appreciate the analogy.
“Oh, right. So, I’m the office inkpot, am I? Is that an Australian way of calling me a slut?”
“No, no, I think I said it wrong. I mean—”
“Don’t bother, Finn. I know exactly what you meant, and I promise, your precious quill will never, ever be dipping into my pot.” She then punched my codpiece. A full fist smash. And it hurt. Her, not me. That thing was hard. A brief wince of pain flickered across her face, and she pressed her lips together to suppress and swallow the curse I knew she was busting to release. Pouting, her bottom lip trembled, and a single tear hung from her long lashes.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Fuck, Scarlett, you need to stop. You told me once that you were prone to making snap decisions, and you’re doing it now. Please listen. That’s not what I meant.”
“Why are you bloody laughing? Tell me what you meant and why it’s so fucking funny.”
