Page 115 of Rush

Because I’m not sure I can promise that.

And with three rules already broken, this arrangement teeters on the edge.

When we leave the library, Broderick’s waiting—leaning casually against the wall like he hadn’t just been kicked out mid-grope.

Philippa sighs dramatically, folding her arms as she eyes him. “Still here, Brody? Don’t you have another bridesmaid to bother?” Her voice holds just enough teasing warmth to soften the sharpness, but her gaze pins him firmly.

“Nope, this one is my favorite.” He shrugs, flashing that playful grin, and Philippa rolls her eyes before turning back to me.

“We’re going horseback riding.”

“No, thank you,” I say, too sweetly.

I’d rather ride something else.

Philippa raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it. “Fine. Behave—both of you, I’ll see you later.” She shoots Broderick one more pointed glance before walking away.

I nod, watching her walk off, perfectly put-together.

Once she’s gone, Broderick and I let out matching sighs.

“Come,” I say softly.

He trails silently behind me as I lead him up the stairs to my bedroom. This time, I double-check the lock—two interruptions in less than twenty-four hours calls for extra security measures.

The room is still hazy with afterglow, the sheets tangled on the floor. Broderick lies on his back, one arm behind his head, looking way too smug for someone who thoroughly ruined me in the best way possible.

I had insisted on the floor. A last-ditch attempt to avoid breaking any more rules.

I roll onto my side, propping my head on my hand, and watch him—tracing lazy circles across his chest.

“You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” I tease, fighting a smile.

He turns his head, gives me that lopsided grin that always gets me in trouble. “Well, when you’rethisgood at something.”

I let out a soft laugh, swatting his chest. “God, you’re unbearable.”

“Unbearable?” He catches my hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to my knuckles. “Pretty sure you weren’t saying that five minutes ago—more Broderick, harder, please, harder,” he adds, shamelessly mimicking me.

“Shut up.”

We lie there in comfortable silence for a moment, until he glances over, brow raised. “You and Phil okay?”

I sigh, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Yeah. I think so.”

He lets out a low chuckle, stroking a hand slowly up and down my back. “She’s being protective. You know…after everything.”

“Yeah, well…she had words for me, that’s for sure.” I smile faintly. “She loves you. Thinks the world of you.” I thread my fingers through his hair.

I think the world of you too.The thought comes unbidden.

His hand stills for a second, then he nods. “Why wouldn’t she? I’m pretty awesome. Plus, her and Andrew are like family to me.”

Something about the way he says it makes weighs on me—but I don’t push.

Instead, I shift closer, resting my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

Then, softly, he asks, “What was your mom like?”