Chapter 16: Rule Three

Hallie's POV

Declan came home at noon with his tie in his pocket and his jacket over his arm.

I was sitting on the kitchen counter in his shirt, eating cereal out of the box, with my bad arm in its sling.

He stopped in the doorway.

"Grandmother wants to frame the cane," he said, his shoulders dropping.

"And Garrison?"

"He smiled all the way to the elevator. I'd feel better if he hadn't."

I put the cereal down.

"Smiling is how he threatens."

"Then I've been threatened by experts since I was twelve."

He crossed the kitchen.

He put his hand against my face before I'd said a word.

His palm was warm, and his thumb dragged slowly over the stitches at my eyebrow, then down my cheek, to the corner of my mouth.

I felt it in my knees, and I wasn't even standing.

"Rule three, Mr. Ashworth," I said.

"I know."

"You don't touch me unless I say so."

"I know that, too." His voice had gone low and rough. "Tell me to stop."

It was a dare, and we both knew it.

I looked at the hand on my face and the dark pupils in his grey eyes and the pulse hammering in his throat.

"Don't you dare," I said.

He kissed me.

It was hard and hungry and slow all at once, and I grabbed his shirt with my good hand and pulled him between my knees.

He tasted like coffee and relief.

His mouth moved down my jaw to my throat, and I tipped my head back against the cabinet and let him.

"Your arm," he said into my neck.

"Is on the other side. Stop asking."

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