Page 28 of Breaking the Rules
She blinks at me and then gestures me forward into her bedroom.
I cross the threshold and sit beside her on the bed. “If you don’t want this, and you’re sure that you’d be better off alone—tell me to leave and I promise I will. I’ll never bother you again. You can keep living here and we’ll be roommates, and that’s it.”
My heart is hammering because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she’s about to tell me.
“But if even a small part of you is into me…”
She gives me a kind look. “You know I am, Preston.”
“Then let me be there for you.”
Her eyes latch onto mine and she gives me a small nod. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be,” I say, gathering her up in my arms. “Your ex is the worst and your sister made a huge mistake by getting with him, but that’s on them. And your dad…well, it sounds like he’s paying for his mistakes too. But you don’t need to suffer because they messed up. You get to live foryou, okay? Do things that make you happy. Put yourself first.”
She nestles herself in closer, pressing her face into the stubble on my neck. “Thanks, Preston.”
“For what?” I hold her close, and man it feels good.
“For not judging me. And for, well, everything. You’ve been so good to me while I tried again and again to push you away.”
“I get why you did it.”
She lifts her face and I lower mine, and then our lips are pressing together. It’s not what I expected, but kissing Essie is a magical experience, so I’m not about to complain.
“We could still go to dinner,” I say when we part a few minutes later.
She lifts her eyes to mine and smiles. “Okay.”
The evening that I thought was ruined turns out to be anything but. We make it in time for our reservations at the new Italian place. It’s every bit as romantic as the reviews made it seem. We share glasses of red wine, and tiramisu—plus we manage to eat impressive amounts of pasta. Then we take a walk around the city, stopping to listen to a jazz musician on the corner. Essie leans her head on my shoulder and we sway together under the moonlight.
Things are going better than expected. I tell her about the late night showing ofThe Notebookat the historic cinema, but she shakes her head. “Let’s go home.”
They’re the three best words I’ve ever heard.
I keep myself distracted during the drive home by peppering Essie with questions.
“Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Both!” she shouts enthusiastically.
“Horror movies or comedy?”
“Both? Sorry,” she laughs. “I really suck at this game.”
I chuckle along with her. “No, it’s okay. Variety is the spice of life.”
By the time we make it home, the temperature has dropped and there’s a light rain falling outside. Inside, we shrug out of our jackets and I can’t help it, I lift Essie into my arms. She wraps her legs around my hips and I kick off my boots before I begin carrying her back to my bedroom.
I place her on the center of the bed. Man she looks good there.
She kisses me and my body responds immediately. When she notices, she brings one hand to the front of my jeans and strokes my hardening erection.
Things are moving really fast, and while I normally wouldn’t complain about this—I want Essie to know she means more to me than some sprint-to-the-finish-line encounter.
The desire to empty the contents of my balls makes it difficult to form coherent thoughts, but I do my best.
“Wait.” I sound breathless, like I just skated a four-minute shift. “We should slow down. We should talk. Maybe have a drink.”
