Page 261 of Rush

I curl into myself, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands.

Yet Broderick proves, time and again, that he wants this—no matter how many times I push him away. He’s giving me a chance…a chance I’m not sure I deserve.

Chapter 30

Been Waiting

My trench coat hangs open while I lean into the mirror, smudging liner over my lash line. The maroon turtleneck clings to my ribs—warm but suffocating now that Riley won’t stop talking.

“It’s not a date, but you’re wearing thigh-highs,” Riley says, chin in her palm, stretched across my bed like it’s hers. “So…it’s a date.”

I cap the eyeliner. “We agreed it’s anot-date. He said dress warm.”

And slutty.

She scoffs, “Warm is jeans and a snow suit. Not socks that say,pussy right, pussy tight, pussy wants to fuck all night.”

I turn, smoothing down my tartan skirt. “Would you rather I wore jeans and a hoodie?”

“Honestly, yeah. Then I wouldn’t have to emotionally prepare for the aftermath of youaccidentallyfalling onto his dick.” She sits up, crossing her legs and grabbing a throw pillow like it might shield her. “You know how you get when you’re near him. All breathy and stolen side glances you think no one notices.”

“We agreed. No sex…Not right away, anyway.”

“You’re gonna cave,” Riley says, one leg bouncing lazily. “My money’s on 9 p.m. He’ll be balls-deep by then.”

“Riley,” I mutter, twisting at my ponytail until the elastic digs into my palm. “He’s been pushing formorelately. I’m just humoring him. We’ll do this, then it’s back to business-as-usual sex.”

“You’re in denial,” she scoffs.

“I’m not.” I grab my coat off the hook.

She snorts. “You really think you can hold out? I saw the way you were looking at him on Christmas Eve. That whole night you were basically eye-fucking him with a candy cane in one hand—face it, Elena, you’re obsessed.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t have sex, did we?” I shoot back, pulling the trench coat tight. “I passed out. Because I was too drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk Elena was a riot that night—I love her.” She laughs.

I lift a brow. “Speaking of Christmas Eve…”

Her grin freezes.

“We’ve yet to discuss your little tryst with a certain bodyguard?”

She blinks, then reaches for the pillow again, smacking it over her face with a groan. “Iknewyou heard.”

“Heard? Riley, the whole building heard…wallsrattled.I thought we were in a goddamn earthquake.”

She drags the pillow down, cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. It was just—heat of the moment...mistletoe proximity…”

“Uh-huh. And I’m Stevie Nicks.”

She sits up straighter, eyes darting. “It’s not like that. I don’tdofeelings. I don’t know what the hell this is. Every time I see him, I get this weird...tight feeling in my chest. And he looks at me like I’m something golden and delicate and I hate it.”

I cross the room, taking a seat beside her. “Sounds like you might like him.”

Riley stares at the ceiling. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never liked someone like this before.”

I stare at her in disbelief, for all her confidence. There are times I’m reminded of the little girl from Jervis Bay who ran around barefoot in dirty clothes.