Page 68 of Rush

“No kissing outside of sex?” His voice is low, a velvet threat. “Shame. I was looking forward to taking my time with your sweet mouth.”

My breath stutters. He still hasn’t touched me and I’m already unraveling.

“But this time…” he adds, eyes glittering with mischief, “you’d know it was me.”

I swallow hard. My knees feel like jelly. My breath comes ragged and shallow.

“Alright,Sweetheart. No kissing.” He smiles, all lazy and flirty. “But I bet you break that rule first.”

Then—slowly—he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, just to torture me.

And now all I can think about is tasting him.Devouring him.

He winks, cocky and unbothered, as if he’s already won.

Bastard.

“We’ll see about that,” I say, my voice barely steady.

He laughs, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe this conversation is happening.Honestly? Same.

I’d half-expected him to shut it down entirely. To throw me out for even suggesting something so indecent, so...us.

But I’m done pretending. Done denying the want I’ve carried in the quietest, most forbidden parts of my mind since that moment in the Hamptons.

“Alright, what else?” he prompts, eyes gleaming with interest.

“No hanging out alone—unless it leads to sex,” I say, forcing firmness into my tone.

He scoffs. “What does that even mean?”

“No dates, no dinners, no movies, no walks in the park. And definitely no laser tag.”

His lips twitch. “Laser tag?”

“Yup.” I fold my arms. “Because dates lead to feelings. And this—” I gesture between us “—is strictly about sex.”

“For now,” he challenges.

My breath hitches and then—just to rub it in—he flashes another grin so cheeky, soinfuriatinglydimpled, I want to smack it off his face. Or kiss it. Probably both.

I roll my eyes and forge ahead. “And lastly—just you and me. If either of us sleep with someone else, the agreement’s off.”

His expression shifts as he stands there—letting the words sink in.

He might still throw me out. And honestly? I wouldn’t blame him. But God, I hope he doesn’t. The teasing alone would be unbearable. I’d never live it down.

“So…you don’t want to share me?” he says finally, leaning back against the weight bench, his arm slung casually over the barbell.

“It works both ways,” I say with a shrug, trying to sound breezy. “You’re free to see other people.”

The lie tastes bitter, but I force it down.

His hand curls around the barbell, grip tightening until his knuckles go white. He lets out a low whistle.

“Let me get this straight. I’m signing up for secret sex, uncomfortable furniture, not even the promise of dinner, zero cuddling, and a non-compete clause?”

“Yes.” I pause. “Andme. If you’ll have me—this way.”