Page 201 of The Rules

That mug? Long since abandoned. Her focus? All on him.

She thought she was composed.

She wasn’t.

He felt the weight of her gaze like a hand on his spine—too curious, too charged to ignore. Like a secret she wasn’t ready to say out loud, but couldn’t stop whispering with her eyes.

And that flush in her cheeks, the way her breath changed—he noticed it all.

It stirred something primal in him.

And he didn’t mind one bit.

"Well?" he finally asked, voice cool and unreadable as he completed another set.

"I—" Kath's voice came out shaky, disbelieving, but with an undercurrent of curiosity that made his blood run hotter.

"You can't be serious."

Ben set the weight down with a controlled thud. Only then did he turn to face her, movements unhurried and commanding. His gaze was lazy at first, then deliberately dipped lower, taking in the sight of black lace peeking from beneath her shirt that she wore.

"You asked for permission," he said, his voice low, intent threading through every syllable. "Now take it."

He stepped closer, and the teasing was gone. What remained was control—undiluted, direct. The kind that made her breath hitch and her pupils darken.

"I could guide you," he continued, voice rough velvet, a promise wrapped in steel. His fingers brushed her chin, feather-light—just enough to make her shiver.

"If you want."

Her breath caught,resistance dissolving under his touch like sugar in heat.

"You just do what I say," Ben murmured, every word slow, measured, devastating. His gaze never left her. Watching. Reading. Waiting for her to give in completely.

Ben didn’t say a word. He stepped back and lowered himself onto the bench, hands closing around the weights with deliberate calm. His movements were slow, precise, calculated—like her presence hadn’t just lit him on fire.

He started curling the bar, biceps flexing under the strain, veins rising along his forearms. Every rep was control in motion. And through it all, he watched her.

Unblinking.

Tracking every shift, every breath, every flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

The space between them pulsed with tension—thick, electric. His pulse was pounding, but his expression stayed unreadable. Focused. Composed.

Let her feel it. The weight of his gaze.

"Start at your neck," he instructed, voice low and commanding.

Kath hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face. For a moment, he thought she might refuse—walk away, end this dangerous game they'd started. But then her fingers rose, trembling slightly as they brushed against her throat.

The touch was tentative at first, barely there—just fingertips skimming over delicate skin. Ben's jaw tightened as he watched her explore herself, her movements growing bolder with each passing second.

Her head fell back, baring the vulnerable column of her throat as her hands descended to her collarbone. Ben devoured each reaction with predatory focus—the sharp catch in her breathing when fingers found that tender spot beneath her ear, the unconscious parting of her lips as the first waves of pleasure rippled through her.

"Feel your breasts," he growled,voice scraped raw with restraint. "Touch your nipples. Make them ache for me. Look me in the eye while you do it."

The sound she surrendered—half-whimper, half-plea—slammed through him like a physical blow. Her thumbs circled then flicked over the peaks straining against her shirt, the thin barrier betraying exactly how they stiffened under her ministrations.

Ben’s voice came again, rougher now, more commanding. “Harder. I want to see you fall apart for me.”