Page 44 of Unwritten Rules

“Hmm…” I pretend to mull it over, pouting slightly whilst tapping my forefinger against my chin. “A hug would be nice.”

He tilts his head to the side. “O…kay?”

It comes out more like a question than a statement, but he comes closer, enclosing me in his arms. I wrap my own around him, feeling his body stiffen when I open my legs to put my Converse-covered heels against his ass and draw him closer.

He holds me for a long beat before dropping a long kiss onto the top of my head. I pull back to look up into his dark eyes, which are more black than brown at this moment.

His heady, familiar scent surrounds me, embracing me just as much as his arms are.

His jaw tics, drawing my attention away from those eyes, further down his face to land on his lips.

Lips that are flattened into a thin line, not a hint of a smile to be found. When paired with the intensity of his stare, he comes across as almost frightening.

But not to me. I feel myself edging closer, the pull of everything that makes up this man’s very essence calling to me, reeling me in.

So close that our breaths are intermingling, and tingles of anticipation race down my spine and settle in my core.

His nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, and I realise with a start that, unknown to myself, I’ve edged forward to bring our pelvises flush, his hips locked tightly between my legs.

I open my mouth to apologise, only to feel the distinct pressure of his hardness pressed firmly against my inner thigh. My panties are instantly drenched in a flood of arousal, and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, chewing it almost ferociously.

My eyes blow wide as I raise them questioningly to his stern, almost angry face, but before I can voice my thoughts, Cal – who I’d forgotten all about – jerks forward, spewing the entire contents of his stomach across the floor.

Nate steps back, pinching the bridge of his nose as though pained.

“Well, isn’t this just fucking splendid?”

CHAPTER 14

MILA

Once we’d dropped a wobbly, rambling Cal home, Nate – who’d not spoken a word the entire time we’d cleaned up or when we were depositing Cal in the back of his SUV – devours the road back to Hawthorne House, still stoic in his seat.

I spy a text on my phone from Percy that makes me giggle softly, but I stifle it when the driver all but growls in my direction.

PERCY

Home safe. Thanks for the tequila. Tomorrow will be fun!

ME

I hear you! See you on Monday. xo

The tyres of Nate’s SUV crunch along the familiar gravel of the driveway to Hawthorne House in almost record time when I finally break the silence, choosing to ignore what happened between us at The Nook.

“How was London?”

He huffs. “Shit.”

“Alrighty then.” I turn my head to look into the pitch darkness out of the passenger side window.

He heaves a sigh. “I apologise, littlest DeMarco. It’s been a long fucking week, not that it’s any excuse…”

Turning my head to face him when he kills the engine outside the house, I rest my hand on his bicep. “Want to talk about it?”

He twists around in his seat to face me, weariness painted across every single chiselled feature.

“It’s this whole mess with the fucking Gate House. It’s like my father’s final fuck you.” He blows out a harsh breath. “The man was a raging cunt. He lived to fucking torture me, as though my very existence was an affront to his delicate sensibilities.”