Chapter 11: The Third Rule

By noon the police had gone, and Marco had found a reason to be at his cousin's until Monday.

"I need to check on the fryer car," he said, holding his keys and not looking at either of us.

"It's a car," I said.

"It has feelings."

He shut the green door behind him.

The house went quiet.

Sam was standing at the kitchen sink with his sleeves pushed up, scrubbing soot from my grandmother's pot.

I watched his forearms.

"You broke the first rule," I said.

"I did."

"So I get to make the second one."

He turned off the water.

"I thought the second was no promises."

"That's the second. This is the third."

I walked across the kitchen until I was close enough to touch his wet hands.

"Rule three," I said. "You stop being careful with me."

His throat moved.

"Nina."

"You've been careful for a week."

"Nina."

"I've felt your hand stop on my ribs. I've seen you look at my mouth and look away."

I put my palm flat on his chest.

"I almost died last night and I want to feel alive."

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he took my face in both wet hands and kissed me.

It wasn't careful.

His mouth was hot and hungry, and I opened to it at once.

He made a low sound against my lips.

He backed me against the kitchen table. The old wood creaked.

His hands went into my hair. Mine went under his shirt, up over his stomach, hard muscle jumping under my fingers.

"God," he said against my throat. "I've wanted to do this since the grass."

"Then do it."

He pulled my sweater over my head and dropped it on the floor.

I tugged at his belt.

He was already hard, and I felt it through his jeans, thick and heavy against my hip.

He kissed down my neck to my collarbone and then lower, dragging his mouth over the top of my bra.

"Take it off," I said.

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