Page 30 of Unwritten Rules

He snorts, raising a thick eyebrow. “I can pick you up pens on the way to Uni tomorrow, you know.”

“You can’t get the pens I like. Trust me.”

I turn back to my shopping and decide what the hell; I’ll add a third just in case. My finger hovers just above the Add to Cart button when Nate speaks again.

“Are you seriously going to wait on those pens when I can grab you a cheap pack on the way to Walden-Forbes in the morning?”

Narrowing my eyes at his playful condescension, I place my tongue firmly in my cheek and spin my phone to show him precisely what pens I’m getting and why he can’t just pick them up at the corner shop down the road.

“They’re vibrator pens, Nathaniel. For self-gratification…”

He drops his head into his hands, scrubbing them up and down his face as a mumbled “Jesus fucking Christ!” escapes from behind his large palms.

“Forget I asked.”

When he gives me his back, I can’t stop the self-satisfied smirk tugging at my lips from taking pride of place on my face.

“I’ll sleep on the window seat there—”

The smile drops from my mouth, replaced by a grimace as I cut him off. I know I’ll sleep better just knowing he’s beside me in bed. Like before, when he chased away the nightmares.

“Please, don’t do that. Sleep in your own bed. We can put pillows between us if you really don’t trust me.”

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“I do trust you, littlest DeMarco!” His statement is spoken passionately. Honestly.

And it gives me all the warm and fuzzies even while I tell my childishly infatuated heart to get a motherfucking grip.

He turns back to face me, and I pop an eyebrow in challenge. Daring him to tell me in plain English why we can’t go back to before.

A war is waged behind his jet-black eyes for several long moments until he squares his shoulders and mock bows.

“As you wish.”

He tilts his face up towards me, grinning so big I can almost make out that elusive dimple of his. My face mirrors his, smiling wider than the Grand Canyon.

“Thank you, Westley. Now, shoo. I’m shopping for sex toys. Enjoy your jog.”

Straightening up, he shakes his head at my reminder before tipping his chin in farewell and leaving the suite.

Immediately dropping my phone on the soft cushioned seat, I race to the bedroom and through to the huge ensuite beyond.

As I take in the freaking gigantic free-standing tub, my exclamation echoes across the pristine white tiles.

“Come to Mama!”

It was lust at first sight when Nate had shown me around earlier.

I grab my Laura Mercier Honey Bath from the long shelf above the dual basins Nate had told me to store my toiletries on, swirling a decent amount along the bottom of the tub before turning the taps on.

Steam begins to rise as the honey turns to thousands of bubbles. I’m wholly absorbed in watching the entire thing play out, deliciously anticipating the glorious bath I’m about to marinate in, when I hear my phone ringing from out on the window seat where I left it.

Dashing back to grab it, I side the answer button, wearing a huge grin when I spot the caller ID.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in!”

My best friend, Eliza Harper, snorts on the other end. “Nine missed calls! Jesus Christ, bestie. Needy much?”