Page 98 of Rule 3: Never Fake Marry the Coach's Son

Still, there’s a chance. There’s hope.

“What does this mean?” Oskar asks.

“Probably that we should order takeout, so we don’t waste any time cooking.”

Oskar lets out an astonished laugh, and my heart warms. His laugh is the best sound. Not strictly speaking the most melodic sound. But definitely the nicest sound in the world all the same.

Because all I want is for him to be happy.

“We can still keep in touch if you leave,” he says.

“Yeah, internet’s pretty amazing.”

“Hey! I would have written you letters.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Instead, you’ll get video calls.”

I stroke his waist, memorizing the exact weight of him in my lap, the precise way he fits against me.

“You’ll still want to talk to me?” my voice wavers.

He stiffens. “You’re my best friend, Dmitri.”

“Yeah. Same.” My voice is husky, and his body radiates tension.

Best friend doesn’t feel like enough. But I asked him to marry me before I thought to ask him for a date? How can I tell him that I want to keep seeing him in every romantic sense? When what I have to offer him is so much less than before?

Would he say yes out of a sense of duty or obligation? Propriety?

Maybe.

Oskar is good at rule following. Not everyone can get into Harvard, and even those who do don’t always succeed.

Why would he want to be with some jock who tarnished his reputation? Who doesn’t have a job? Who is not even allowed to be in the same country as him?

My heartbeat quickens, and I press kisses onto the side of his neck until he’s moaning, and my cock is raging, and thoughts are more of an abstract concept than something I’m actively having.

CHAPTER FORTY

Oskar

I shift in Dmitri’s lap, and he makes a small noise of protest, pulling me closer against his chest, eliminating any space between us. When our faces align, Dmitri knows just how to apply the right suction, just how to make every nerve ending in my body sing with joy that we are together.

“Maybe we should move to the bed,” he suggests softly.

“Okay.” I grin. “I like that idea.”

Dmitri lifts me up like I weigh nothing, ignoring my protests that I can walk perfectly fine.

“Bragging, huh?” he teases.

I giggle happily, and he tosses me onto the bed, then lunges himself beside me. The mattress bounces, a pillow falls off.

Dmitri is unconcerned, focused on me.

I laugh as he tosses me onto the mattress before landing beside me. The bed bounces and a pillow tumbles to the floor, but Dmitri only has eyes for me. His gaze is intense but nervous as he reaches for the nightstand drawer.