Page 90 of Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

She severs the eye contact. “Sucks to be you, then.”

Let me tell you: it sucks to be me all right.

When I pull into the apartment parking spot, I hurry out of the car in fear that she’ll run to the door and go right back to ignoring me.

“Do you need a hand with getting inside?” I help her out of my car.

“No.” She trips two steps in, and I catch her.

“Come on.” I motion to the door with my chin.

“I said I don’t need help.”

“I don’t care.” I lace her arm around my shoulder with one hand on her waist, and she doesn’t fight me further. I unlock the door for her. We enter the elevator, and I select our floor. Just as we’re about to step into the hall, she wiggles out of my reach and presses every single button on the elevator panel.

“What the hell are you doing?” I rush her out before the doors close.

“I always wanted to do that,” she snickers, proud of herself.

I can’t help my grin as we march down the hall. I unlock the door for her and flip the light switch while she sends her shoes flying. Waze comes running down the hall with a waving tail. Excited beyond belief, he jumps on Winter, then on me.

“Hi, baby.” Winter kneels down to pet him, and I wince at the scene. He was supposed to be ours. I wonder if she changed his name. Rising back up, she struggles to remove her coat. I tug on her sleeves to make it easier.

“What happened to you?” I frown at the sight of a huge stain on her dress. It smells and looks sticky as fuck. Makes sense that I didn’t notice in the darkness of the club. “Is that booze?”

“No, it’s piss.” She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it’s booze, duh.”

“We’ve got to get you changed.”

“I just want to sleep.” She pets Waze some more and rushes to the bedroom. I follow, but I can’t stop her from jumping on our bed—sorry, her bed—in a starfish position.

“Sober Winter would commit murder if she saw you right now,” I mock. Winter is kind of a clean freak; she got that from her mom. I usually have to take my shoes off the second I walk in. So, jumping on our bed with a dirty, sticky dress? She’d lose it. “Promise you’ll get changed once I leave.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll sleep in your disgusting dress and regret it tomorrow.”

She arches an eyebrow, propping herself on her elbows as she analyzes me intently. Then she gets off the bed and walks over to me.

“There are a lot of things I could do and regret tomorrow.”

I can practically hear myself gulp at her words.

“Just promise you’ll take it off and I’ll lea—”

My eyes want to pop out of their sockets when she tugs her dress straps down her shoulders and strips right in front of me. The fabric falls to her feet, exposing her white lace underwear and perfectly curved body.

Fuck.

Feeling like I’m violating her, I tear my eyes away.

“Winter.” I scold.

“What? You don’t like the view?” She moves forward, so close her breasts mash against my chest.

“You need to sleep.” I keep my eyes firmly on the wall, every fiber of my being begging me to take just one look.

It’s fine. I can do this. I can control myself… I think?