Page 31 of The Rule Breaker (Colton U Playbook #1)

RYAN

T he steam from the shower still clings to the air as I step out, towel wrapped around my waist. I wipe my face, rubbing my hands through my wet hair, and toss the towel onto my bed. The bathroom mirror fogs up as I grab my phone from the counter, checking the time—just after eight.

My brain’s still a little mush from my psychology class earlier. Some days, balancing hockey and school feels like a lot, but I’m still glad I took this path instead of following my brother.

Downstairs, the guys are probably already hyped up for the game.

Austin’s probably bouncing around, yelling at the TV, since it’s his favorite team playing tonight.

Normally, I’d be right there with them, ready for a night of noise, snacks, and shit-talking.

But honestly? I’m way more interested in something—or rather, someone—else right now.

I swipe open my phone and text Isabella.

Me:

You up?

I lean against the bathroom sink, waiting for the little bubbles to pop up. A few seconds later, my phone buzzes.

Isabella:

It’s eight. Of course I’m up.

I chuckle, that familiar smart-ass tone of hers making me grin.

Me:

I miss you. And that smart mouth of yours.

Isabella:

You’re trouble…

Me:

If by trouble you mean the best time ever, then yeah, I am trouble.

I can’t help it. A stupid, goofy grin spreads across my face. My phone buzzes again. I grin even wider. I can practically hear her rolling her eyes at me. I feel my phone vibrate again and quickly glance at it.

Isabella:

You’re ridiculous. But I’ll admit, I kind of miss you too.

My chest does this stupid flutter and my smile widens. Yeah, I like hearing that from her. A lot. I’ve never been a guy who craves attention or affection, but from her? It’s different. I want it. All the time.

Me:

So… what are you doing? Besides missing me, obviously.

I could be down there with the guys, but honestly, nothing sounds better than just talking to her. I know they’ll be fine without me. Hell, I’m usually the one who bails on them.

Isabella:

Trying to finish some stupid assignment for tomorrow. But it’s not happening.

Me:

So what you’re saying is, I should come over and help you procrastinate?

I smirk, imagining her sitting at her desk, probably with a cup of coffee or something. She’s so driven, but I know she doesn’t mind putting things off for the right distraction. I could be that distraction.

Isabella:

Did you forget I have a roommate?

I groan out loud, dragging a hand down my face as I head into my bedroom, and throw on a t-shirt and some shorts.

Fuck, I knew it was a long shot, but… I just want to see her. But since she lives with a roommate, that isn’t an option. Not to mention I’m surrounded by guys—Logan, Austin… and her brother. It’s like the universe conspired to keep me and Isabella in a constant state of sexual frustration.

Less time alone. Less touching. Less of her.

More of me slowly losing my damn mind.

Me:

You’re killing me, Curls.

Isabella:

You’ll survive.

Will I, though? Because I swear, if I don’t see her soon, I might actually lose it. Every time she texts me, I want more. Every time I hear her voice, I miss her harder. It’s becoming a serious problem I don’t know how to deal with.

Me:

I don’t think I will. Need you.

There’s a pause. Long enough to make me question if I came on too strong. But then?—

Isabella:

Yeah?

My mouth curves into a slow, crooked grin as I type out a reply, my fingers moving fast.

Me:

So fucking bad.

Isabella:

Me too.

Fuck. My heart kicks like I just hit the winning shot in overtime. I stare at those words, that little admission, and my pulse takes off.

She needs me too.

Me:

Come over then. My place.

I don’t expect her to actually say yes—but I send it anyway, hoping.

Isabella:

Your place?

Me:

Yeah.

Isabella:

What about my brother?

Me:

He’s downstairs.

Isabella:

Ryan…

I can hear the warning in her voice, the hesitation. It only makes me want her more. I can’t stand the thought of waiting any longer.

Me:

I’ll sneak you in.

Because I’m not spending another night without her when I could be holding her in my arms instead.

I know I’m taking risks. Big risks that could come and bite me in the ass if we get caught. But damn, I’m enjoying the reward.

Another pause. Long enough to make me shift in place, my fingers drumming against my thigh, trying to tap the nerves away. She’s hesitating. I can feel it through the silence. Drawing it out just to torture me—has to be.

Then finally, my phone lights up.

Isabella:

Fine.

A grin tugs at my mouth. She’s coming. Hell yeah.

Me:

Meet me at the back entrance.

I toss my phone on the bed and move fast, glancing at the mirror. Not that I’m trying to impress her or anything—okay, maybe I am. Just a little. I check my shirt, decide it’s fine. Casual enough. Comfortable enough. And, let’s be honest, it’s not staying on long.

My phone buzzes ten minutes later, pulling me out of my thoughts as I try to clean my room up a little.

Isabella:

I’m here.

I don’t even try to fight the grin spreading across my face.

I slip out of my room, heading down the stairs as quiet as I can. The guys are all in the living room, yelling at the screen. Austin’s fully invested, so the volume’s basically maxed out. They’re too locked in to notice me slip past.

Perfect.

I head for the back door and crack it open.

There she is.

Hood up. Arms crossed. Looking like the best and worst decision I’ll ever make.

“Took you long enough,” she says, one brow raised.

I lean against the doorframe, shooting her a smile. “Had to make myself look good for you.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “Didn’t work.”

I clutch my chest, mock wounded. “Ouch. Really? After all that effort?”

She steps into the doorway, brushing past me with a smirk. “You should’ve tried harder.”

God, I love how she teases me.

I attempt to close the door quietly. Naturally, I do the exact opposite—clearing my throat louder than I mean to as I ease it shut.

The sound echoes way too much down the hall.

Shit.

I wince, and sure enough, she whirls on me with a look that could scorch drywall.

“Really?” she hisses. “That was the loudest way to close a door.”

I can’t help the grin spreading across my face as I shake my head. “Sorry. My brain isn’t working right now. Not when you’re here, wearing that.”

I glance down at the oversized hoodie barely covering those denim shorts clinging to her legs. It doesn’t make any sense. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot. But somehow she makes it look illegal.

She rolls her eyes, like she’s immune to my flirting, but the pink creeping into her cheeks says otherwise.

I nudge her forward, my hand sliding into hers. “Come on,” I murmur, keeping my voice low. “Before someone actually notices.”

We slip past the living room, and Isabella tiptoes up the stairs ahead of me, hoodie riding up just slightly, and yeah, I’m definitely not looking away.

I stifle a groan as my eyes land on her ass in those denim shorts, dying to get my hands on her.

We reach my room, and I swing the door open, letting her in first. She walks past me, and I step in behind her, easing the door shut until it clicks.

Quiet this time. Lesson learned.

“That was a little too easy,” she says, arching a brow at me.

I lean back against the door, letting my eyes drag over her slowly—the way the hoodie lifts a little when she crosses her arms, how those shorts sit on her hips. Want her so bad. Goddamn.

“Almost like I know what I’m doing,” I reply with a smirk.

She shoots me a look. “So… I’m not the first girl you’ve snuck in?”

I push off the door and close the space between us, watching the way her gaze flickers from my face to my chest like she can’t decide where to land. “Would it make you feel better if I said no?” I tease.

She doesn’t like the idea. I can tell. And honestly? I don’t blame her. If some other guy was sneaking into her room, I’d lose my damn mind.

Her eyes narrow, her arms still pressed against her chest. “It’d make you an asshole.”

I laugh under my breath. “Well, lucky for you,” I murmur, “I haven’t snuck anyone in before.”

I mean it. I don’t bring girls back here. This is my space. My room. My bed. But with her? All that went straight out the window. I want her here more than I want anything.

She doesn’t say anything right away, just studies me. Then her expression softens, and she lets out a short breath. “Good,” she finally says.

Before I can move in again, her eyes drift to the shelf beside my bed, and she tilts her head. “Are those old video games?”

I glance over. “Yeah.”

She steps closer, crouching slightly as she reads the spines of the DVD cases. “Oh my god. Is that the original Mario Kart?”

A grin pulls at my lips as I walk over to stand behind her. “Yep. Mario Kart 64. Still works, too,” I tell her. “The Graphics are shit, but I grew up playing this with my brother.”

She looks up at me, arching a brow. “You like the old ones better, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “Nothing beats the classics.”

“I love this game,” she murmurs, running her fingers over the cartridge. “I used to wreck my brother,” she replies, her lips turning up into a smile. “He’d storm off every time I hit him with a red shell.”

I shake my head, a laugh bubbling out of me. “You’re telling me you’re a sore winner?”

She smirks, turning those gorgeous eyes on me. “I’m telling you I’m undefeated.”

I raise a brow, stepping closer again. “Dangerous words.”

“Prove me wrong.”

“I might have to,” I murmur, stepping in closer, backing her toward the bed, my smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth.

My fingers slide under the hem of her sweatshirt, brushing warm skin. Fuck, I’ve missed this.

“Did you miss me?” I ask.

Her eyes find mine, that playful spark lighting them up. “No.”

I lean in closer, letting my breath fan across her cheek, my grin widening. “Liar.”