The Art of Taking [+18]

No strings

His laugh was low and taunting. "God, you're not even trying to hide it now. These aren't rules, Red. This is just you getting jealous before I've even done anything."

"Believe whatever you want," I said sweetly, chin high. "You'll still follow them."

He laughed, low and dark. "You do hear yourself, right? You're basically making a jealous girlfriend rulebook for someone who's not your boyfriend."

I gave him a slow smile. "Keep talking and I'll add a rule about shutting up."

He chuckled, brushing his lips near my ear. "Red... you really have no idea how badly I want to break every single one of them."

I ignored him. "Rule eight—when it ends, it ends. No begging, no chasing, no 'one more time.' We walk away."

He leaned closer, lips brushing my ear. "Sweetheart , you really think you'll be able to walk away from me?"

"Rule nine," I pressed on, ignoring the goosebumps, "if either of us slips, if someone else gets in the way—it's done. No arguments."

He groaned, low and mocking. "God, you make rules sound like foreplay."

"That's because they are."

His grin was slow, wicked. "Red... these aren't rules. This is just you marking your territory while pretending not to."

"Believe what you want," I said sweetly, tilting my chin up. "You will follow them."

His laugh was dark, low in his chest. "Or maybe I'll break every single one just to watch you lose control."

I leaned in, my whisper sharp against his mouth. "Rule ten—break the rules, it's over."

I held his gaze, daring him to argue. He didn't. Instead, he leaned back a little, folding his arms like he was entertained.

"So let me get this straight," he drawled.

"No feelings. No late-night calls. No other girls. I wait until you snap your fingers. And I'm supposed to pretend this is for my good too?"

"It is," I said firmly.

He smirked. "Nah. This is all you, Red.

These rules aren't protection—they're confession. You're already half-crazed thinking about me with anyone else."

I bristled. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I don't have to." His eyes glittered. "You just wrote me a whole rulebook screaming you're mine without actually saying it."

"I did say it," I shot back. "Rule seven. You're mine."

His laugh was low, dark, curling around me like smoke. "See? Jealous. Possessive. Reckless. Exactly like me. You hate it because it makes us the same."

My heart hammered, but I kept my chin up. "Call it whatever you want. You'll still follow them."

He leaned in, his mouth ghosting over mine without touching. "Sure. I'll follow your rules..." His smirk twisted, wicked. "...just so I can break them one by one. And when I do, you'll hate me for it—until you love me for it."

And then his mouth crashed to mine, shattering the very first rule before the game even began.

⸻

His kiss tore away, leaving me breathless, lips raw. He didn't step back—just left a sliver of space I immediately hated needing.

His thumb dragged lazily across my mouth, smirk turning cruel. "You know what's funny?"

I blinked, steadying myself. "What?"