Page 91 of Rush

“Do you ever think about that weekend?”

The weekend that changed everything. When he laid his feelings bare, and I bolted—straight into Alex’s arms. Following my foolish heart straight into heartbreak.

“Sometimes,” I admit, staring up at him through my lashes.

The truth slipping from my lips making me feel lighter and heavier all at once.

His green eyes are darker out here, almost a hunter-green, and for a moment I’m lost in them.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” I murmur, my hand sliding up his chest, cupping the warm line of his neck.

His dimples flash with a sheepish smile, and my heart thuds against my ribs. God, how I wish things had been different. Could I have been happy with Broderick? Or would he have decided—like Alex—that I wasn’t worth the effort?

But the way he looks at me—speaks to my soul. Pleading for me to let him in.

“Are you gonna flirt with me all night,” he challenges, smirk curling his lip, “or do something about it?”

I shouldn’t. I promised Philippa. We need to behave this weekend. But the way he goads me sparks something wicked, something reckless.

I want his mouth, his heat, his roughness. I want it all.

“Fuck it.”

I tug him down, rising on my toes, and crash into his lips.

He hums in satisfaction as he holds me up. His tongue slides into my mouth and I let him in. He tastes of whiskey and pure heat, his kiss melting every ache, piecing my battered heart together. It’s the type of kiss they talk about in songs—the moment of unstoppable bliss, setting something into motion, melting away every doubt.

This is how our first kiss should have been.

Broderick’s hands claw at my body, and I know it’s taking every ounce of control for him not to rip my clothes off here and now and make good on our agreement.

Fuck being good. I needthis.

A throat clears.

We jolt apart. He sets me down quickly, turning to adjust the evidence straining his pants. I smooth my dress, fingers combing through my frazzled hair.

“Ma’am,” Luca says evenly. “My apologies—your family requests a word.”

Ugh.

“Yeah,” I manage, walking toward the patio doors. “I’ll see you inside, Broderick.”

Another rule broken.

Luca won’t say anything—NDAs make sure of that—but the reality hits hard. We got caught. We need to be careful,surrounded by family and friends we can’t make the mistake of being careless and risking this arrangement between us before we’ve even had the chance to properly enjoy it.

I follow Luca inside and after enduring a round of relatives eager to “catch up”—which really means gawking at Mortimer’s black sheep—I finally slink to the bar, in desperate need of a drink.

The taste of him still lingers. The kiss thrums through me like a secret I can’t put down.

I force a smile when Andrew drifts over.

“Hey, Little Sis,” he says, pulling me into a friendly hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he slurs.

“How much have you had to drink?” I narrow my eyes, catching the scent of whiskey on his breath.

He chuckles just as Philippa appears at his side.