Page 67 of Rush

I pace, collecting my thoughts like loose beads on a string.

“One: No one can know,” I say, ticking it off on my fingers. “This stays between us.” Before he can interrupt, I power through, “This isn’t for public consumption.”

“So we’re sneaking around now?” he quips. “Should I wear a disguise?”

“I’m serious. Discretion is key. I can’t afford another scandal. One wrong headline—it could ruin everything I’ve worked for.”

His smile fades slightly, and I can tell he hears me now—the fear under the flirtation, the pressure threaded through my every word.

He raises both palms in surrender, dimples dancing on his cheeks as a smile tugs at his mouth. “Alright. Top secret. What else?”

“No sex in beds. Or at least…not in each other’s,” I say, folding my arms. “Beds are complicated. They lead tosleeping.”

Sharing each other’s beds, being in each other’s spaces, feelsloaded.

“What?” he says incredulously.

“Actually—add that too. No sleepovers.” I glance up at him, relieved his expression is still playful.

“So let me get this straight—rule two: no beds and no sleepovers? You’re banning the best surface known to man.”

“There arealternatives,” I reply coolly. “Couches. Counters.” I eye the weight bench in the corner of his gym.

His gaze follows mine—and lets out a low chuckle. “You want me to fuck you next to my dumbbells?”

“If I want to,” I challenge, lifting my chin. His eyes spark with something dark and delicious, and the heat it sends through me is immediate, curling low in my belly. The image alone—his body pinning mine to that bench, muscles flexing—is enough to make me come right now.

“Alright…anything else?”

I hesitate, then clear my throat. “Three: no kissing. Unless we’re fucking.”

That wipes the humor off his face.

“Seriously?”

“Kissing is…intimate,” I murmur, unsure. “Too intimate.”

Broderick lifts a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Elena, need I remind you that we’ve already kissed?” He leans in slightly, eyes flicking down to my lips.

“Yes, but that was circumstantial.”

“Point taken.” He tilts his head, curious. “But…isn’t sex intimate?”

“Not the way we’ll be doing it.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, warm and teasing. “What, clinically?”

“No.” My confidence clicks back into place as I straighten. “Formygratification.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “Way to make a guy feel special.”

I can’t help the way that tugs at something in me. Broderick is special. Special enough that I trust no one else with this.

“You’re really banning kissing?” he asks in disbelief.

“It complicates things.”

Broderick’s eyes drop to my mouth—and linger. He doesn’t lean in, not exactly, but his body shifts forward, just enough for heat to radiate off him. I catch the way sweat clings to the edge of his collarbone, drying slow and golden.