Page 167 of Rush

Broderick steps behind me, his warmth pressing into my back. His mouth lowers to the shell of my ear.

“Are you mad at me?” he murmurs, voice husky with concern.

He snakes an arm around my waist, gently turning me to face him.

“Baby,” he whispers.

I pout, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. “You kissed me and wouldn’t fuck me,” I say, dragging the words like silk across his skin. “That’s against our rules.”

“Not when you’rethisdrunk, El.”

I roll my eyes and grab a slice of pizza, biting into it with a huff.Sober.He wants me sober. Fine.

He smiles at me then, and just like that, the anger dissolves. Those damn dimples are my undoing.

Always.

My eyes drift toward the balcony. The pool glimmers under the Vegas lights, steam rising from its surface into the cool desert night.

“I’ll forgive you,” I murmur, stepping closer, “if you do something with me.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, smiling. “What’s that?”

“Jump in the pool with me.” I grin. “That’s sure to sober me up.”

He snorts. “No way.”

“Chicken.”

“I’m not chicken.”

I start clucking—loudly—bawking like a lunatic walking backward toward the balcony, laughing as I peel my top off and toss it to the floor.

“Come on, think of how much fun we got up to the last time we were in a pool.”

His eyes darken. And there it is—that smile. That slow, wolfish grin that tells me he’s rememberingexactlywhat I’m talking about.

“Good boy,” I purr.

He pulls his shirt off in one smooth, practiced motion—and the room erupts.

“Oh myGod,did it just get hotter in here?” Ava whistles, already stripping her top off too.

Wolf-whistles, gasps, applause.

His torso is on full display, all chiseled muscle and that fucking V-line I love to drag my tongue along. Every inch of him carved and golden under the glow of the lights.

My body tightens with a mix of arousal and frustration. It’s almost painful.

Ava, Broderick and I stand at the edge of the pool, goosebumps prickle across my skin from the night air. Broderick’s eyes narrow on the water below.

“That water’s gonna be ice,” he mutters.

And suddenly I’m back in Sweden—lakeside with Alex. The memory cuts through me like a blade.

“It’s heated.” Ava’s voice yanks me back. “Okay, one, two?—”

We never make it to three.