The Art of Taking [+18]

No strings

I straightened my skirt again, this time with deliberate slowness, letting him watch. My pulse was still racing, my skin tingling from every touch, but I needed to set the terms. If we were going to do this—if we were going to keep going like this—someone had to be smart about it. And it wasn't going to be him.

"Okay," I said, tilting my head up to meet his dark stare. "If we're doing this... we need rules."

His smirk faltered, just a fraction. "Rules?"

"Yes. Rules," I repeated, voice sharp, commanding. "Because if we don't, we're going to—" I gestured between us with a lazy flick of my hand, "fall apart, lose control, and—God forbid—catch feelings. And I'm not risking that. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone."

He leaned closer, chest brushing mine, gaze intense. "Red... you're joking, right?"

I crossed my arms, ignoring the heat radiating from him. "Dead serious. No falling in love. No checking in on each other constantly. No... whatever this is leaking into the rest of our lives. Just... this." My hand swept the air between us, the promise of everything we'd just done.

He leaned in, chest brushing mine, gaze dark and amused. "So... a no-strings, high-risk arrangement, with you in charge?"

"Exactly."

"And you think that's not just you trying to control me?"

"Not control. Prevent disaster," I said flatly. "You're reckless, I'm smart. It balances."

He leaned against the wall like he had all the time in the world, arms folding across his chest.
He grinned like I'd just fed him a challenge. "Go on then. Let's hear this little list of yours."

I slid my hand down his chest, tracing the hard line of his abs, enjoying the faint shiver I earned.

"Rule one," I said, tracing my finger down the hard line of his chest. "This stays between us. No feelings, no confessions, no late-night heart-to-hearts. We stop the second one of us catches feelings or finds someone we actually want."

His brow arched, amused. "So basically, you're planning our breakup before I've even touched you again. Adorable."

"Smart," I corrected.

"Rule two—you don't touch me unless I say so."

That earned me a sharp laugh. "Permission? That's cute. Red, you really think you're in charge here?"

"Try me," I shot back, leaning in until his jaw tightened.

"Rule three—we keep it physical. No pretending, no romantic crap, no strings."

He tilted his head, smirk tugging at his mouth. "You keep repeating the 'no strings' thing. Almost like you're convincing yourself, not me."

"Rule four—you don't get to see other girls while this lasts."

That one made him laugh outright, low and wicked. "Ah. Finally. The real reason for all this."

"It's not that," I snapped. "It's exclusivity."

"Exclusivity," he echoed, grin sharp. "Red, that's literally just jealous with better branding."

"Rule five—any attention you give me stays between us. I don't want people thinking I'm optional."

His eyes gleamed as his smile went slow, dangerous. "Sweetheart, you're the least optional thing I've ever had."

"Rule six—you want me, you wait. I set the pace. Always."

He groaned, mocking and hungry all at once. "That one's just cruel."

"Rule seven—" I leaned close, whisper sharp. "You're mine. That's the ultimate rule."