Writing the Rules: A Fake Dating Standalone

by Mariah Dietz

  She shifts below me, and my body seems to reply without a conscious thought, sliding out and then in, slowing and increasing based on the speed of her breaths. I slide my hands under her waist, tip her pelvis up, and thrust into her, moving faster and harder, watching as her breasts bounce with each drive into her. She tilts her head back, her legs spreading farther as she cries out my name, and it’s the last thing I hear before I chase her release with my own, losing all sense and feeling as pleasure erupts, flowing through me like shockwaves.

  26

  Poppy

  I lie beside Paxton, our legs tangled beneath the weight of the blankets as we laugh about memories we’re comparing, both realizing how many holes lie in our own experiences.

  “You should go to sleep,” I tell him. “Big game tomorrow.”

  The reminder has his arms pulling me closer against his chest. “We need to write a new set of rules.”

  “Do we? I kind of like our rules.”

  His hand traces over my hip, tender and gentle like I’m fragile. “We need to write in some naked days.”

  I just had the best orgasm of my life. My muscles still feel satisfied and fatigued, and the mere thought of sleeping with him again has my sex clenching and desire pooling between my legs. “Mandatory naked days,” I tell him.

  He kisses the underside of my jaw, his fingers pressing more firmly against my flesh. “We have a lot of years to make up for.”

  I grin, sharing a similar thought. My eyelids feel heavy though my body still aches for his touch. “We can start in the morning,” I whisper.

  He holds me tighter, running his nose against my temple where he breathes me in, and his body settles, his warmth soothing me with a level of comfort and security that lulls me into a quick sleep.

  I wake to chills, my body curled and the bed empty.

  “Sorry,” Pax whispers. “I was trying to let you sleep.” He’s dressed in a pair of sweats, a red Brighton sweatshirt on, and his hair still wet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to meet with the coaches before the team comes.”

  “Again?”

  He tilts his head with a subtle shrug. “Paulson complained to the coaches about me.”

  I blink through my grogginess. “What does that mean?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m not worried about it. He’s just bitter that I’m favoring Lincoln and trying to use that as evidence that it’s personal against Derek when really, Lincoln’s just a better receiver.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  The ghost of a smile crosses his features. “Because Lincoln already hates Paulson, he doesn’t need more reasons to hate him, and because it’s not a big deal. Coach Harris knows Lincoln’s better.”

  “Why do you have to talk about it again?”

  “Team rules.”

  “Speaking of rules, you’re already breaking the rules,” I tell him. “It’s supposed to be mandatory naked time.”

  His smile hits me like the sun, warm and bright. “It took my full strength not to wake you up and cash in on naked time. You were tired.” He ties his shoes and stands. “You can come by the house tonight, stay over. I’ll throw in a working furnace to sweeten the deal.”

  I laugh, cuddling into the blankets. “It’s freezing in here.”

  He nods, the whisper of a frown on his face. “The shower’s warm, and I sent you an email this morning with a list of places that are nearby where you guys can hang out until the game.”

  “Oh!” I say, eyeing the bag with the shirts I’d purchased yesterday. “Since it’s supposed to be freezing tonight during your game, I bought you a shirt.”

  Pax arcs his eyebrows. “You did?”

  I nod. “It’s in that bag.”

  He reaches for it, pulling both shirts out. Without waiting a beat, he pulls off his sweatshirt, revealing his flawless body. My heart quickens, regret for not having woken up earlier nesting itself in my chest. He pulls on the new shirt. It’s solid black and follows each contour of muscle. “This is great. Thank you.” Pax walks to the edge of the bed and leans close. He places his hand against my cheek, his thumb lightly skimming along my cheek as his eyes connect with mine. “I’ll see you on the field?”

  I grin. “I’ll be the girl with your number painted on my face.”

  His gaze darkens. “I like that more than I probably should,” he admits. Then he kisses me, his mouth warm and sure.

  He straightens, and slings his bag over a shoulder, regret resting on his lowered brow as he looks at me. “You’re in bed naked, and I have to go meet with fucking Paulson.”

  “Next time, wake me up.”

  He grins. “Get some more sleep. You’re going to need your energy tonight.” He winks at me, then heads for the door, leaving my heart spinning around in my chest like a top.

  I shiver as I wrap my hands around the mug of coffee our waiter delivers to us inside of the small restaurant that Rae and I walked to. I haven’t managed to get warm since I got out of the shower, like my body is still protesting the loss of Pax.

  “You’re being quiet,” Rae says, looking at me. “And you’re smiling. A lot.”

  I bring my coffee to my lips, debating how to have this conversation and if I should talk to Pax before I do. But Rae narrows her blue eyes like she can hear my thoughts.

  “I might kind of like your brother…” I tell her.

  Raegan’s expression is a combination of humor and shock. “You don’t say?”

  I shake my head. “You aren’t surprised?”

  She shrugs as she reaches for her coffee. “A little.”

  “How are you not freaking out? I’m already freaking out and now I’m freaking out on your behalf. Are you mad? Do you feel like I lied? Are you worried about anything? Talk to me.”

  Rae’s smile is genial and patient. “I kind of thought things between you were becoming something more back on my birthday, but I didn’t want to mention anything and somehow influence your feelings. Trust me, it’s been a struggle to hold my tongue. I’ve been dying to ask you a million questions and tell you how freaking cute you guys are. Lincoln is so over hearing about you guys.”

  My cheeks warm. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about everything sooner.”

  She shakes her head. “This was between you and Pax, I know that, and I don’t hold it against you. I’m always here for you, but I completely understand needing to be alone with your feelings sometimes.” She takes a drink.

  “I know this is weird, and I’m breaking girl code.”

  Rae shakes her head again. “No. I want you to be happy. You’re my best friend, and I want you to have the moon and the stars and everything else you could possibly want. And this is a little weird and kind of awkward because he’s my brother, but I want him to have someone as good and amazing as you, too. I’m a little nervous because I don’t want you to get hurt. It really terrifies me that if something goes bad between you, it will impact us, and I know that’s selfish of me, but you’re like a sister to me.”

  I ditch my coffee and move my hands to cover hers. “I swear that nothing will ever come between us. If things don’t work out between Pax and me, it won’t change anything between us. I know this in my soul.”

  “Me too,” she says, turning her hand around to link our fingers. “And because I’ve been on the opposite end of this situation, I know how hard this conversation can be. I support you and him. Have you talked to him?”

  I nod, my cheeks heating, warming my body as I think of last night.

  Rae chuckles. “You can reserve the details. I don’t think I can stomach hearing bedroom stuff about my brother.”

  I laugh, my heart setting a new tempo.

  “Lincoln didn’t think he’d slept in the room last night. He said the blankets on one of the beds were missing.”

  “He brought them to my room since the heater was off.”

  Sarcasm lights Raegan’s eyes. “And I’m guessing he used the s
ame line Lincoln did and told you that being naked was the best way to keep you warm.”

  I laugh outright, catching the attention of a nearby table that has my cheeks flushing again like they might know what we’re discussing. “He was a little smoother about it.”

  Rae drags a hand down her face, a smile tipping her lips. “This is actually kind of great. I think the group would have been really disappointed to learn it was all a lie. And my mom is going to be thrilled. You know she already considers you family.”

  My lips form into a smile that doesn’t leave me all day as we wander through the small town, finding quaint shops and a walking trail before heading to the stadium early.

  The guys are on the field when we arrive, running practice sets. And even with my view largely obstructed by his helmet, I see him in ways that make my body heat. Relief fills me as a sense of rightness floods me—a sensation I feel whenever he’s near. The afternoon should be dull and boring from sitting in the stands for several hours, coldness seeping through our clothes as the sun begins to set, but being here with Rae and feeling her approval is like icing on a cupcake, and when the game starts, my eyes are glued to the field, watching every detail and second of the game and feeling a thrill as Pax has what Raegan deems the best game of his career. And when it ends, and I make my way down to the field, I don’t feel the same hesitancy and uncertainty about being caught on camera. Instead, I find Pax and marvel in the way his face lights up at the sight of me, and then I claim his lips like he’s claimed me.

  After our short flight, I pack my bag and head for Paxton’s. When I reach his front door, nerves have officially taken over my body. I’m fairly certain if I stopped and paid attention, I’d notice my hands are shaking. Instead, I start biting my thumb nail as I lift my other hand and knock.

  Arlo answers with a quick smile. “You know, you don’t have to knock. Just come on in.”

  I smile rather than tell him I won’t. Not anytime soon, at least.

  “Hey, Poppy,” Caleb says from where he’s sitting on the couch next to Julie. She leans forward and waves at me.

  “Hey,” I say in return, glad to see them hanging out again.

  Soft footsteps on the stairs have me turning my attention to see Pax. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a smile, his torso bare and his hair damp. It's hard to move my attention from his perfectly sculpted abs, but when I do, his slightly stubbled jaw, defined cheeks, and soft lips that had searched and explored me last night like I was his air and food are only overshadowed by his intense blue eyes that completely disarm me. Desire and the victory shine in his eyes, along with a dozen other familiar expressions that I don’t have time to account for as Arlo cheers.

  “You guys have a lot to celebrate tonight,” Arlo says. “That was my boy’s best game of the season. We slaughtered them.”

  Paxton wears a matching smile as he stops beside me, setting his hand on the middle of my back where his fingers extend and then retract, so light it’s almost ticklish. Then he leans close and kisses me just above my temple and makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat that is too erotic and sensual. My body reacts instantly, warming and tingling as his fingers spread over my back again. “Are you heading to Olivia’s?” Pax asks Arlo.

  Arlo nods. “I just had to get some clean clothes. The Pres just left, and—”

  “Cool,” Pax says, and then he drops and puts his shoulder into my lower belly and lifts me. “I’d like to chat, but I need Poppy’s opinion on something upstairs.” He collects my overnight bag. “See you guys next week,” Pax says, heading back up the stairs.

  “Paxton,” I hiss, my face burning from both embarrassment and nerves.

  He doesn’t stop or slow down, and a part of me is so happy about the fact that I don’t even care that the others are laughing in response and likely know exactly what we’re going to do.

  Pax flips on his desk light and closes the door, then sets me back on my feet. Before I can ask him if that was really necessary, his hands are cupping my face, and he’s kissing me. It’s a kiss that people write songs and entire books about, a kiss that creates definitions and expectations and makes the rest of the world seem entirely trivial, and I lose myself in it and in him. I kiss him with abandon, feeling every inch of his hot skin and strong muscles that I was admiring just moments ago. His hands move over me with precision and intent, gentle but with a firmness that has my mind creating a map of his movements, reveling in each spot he travels over. He runs over my thighs, my back, my shoulders, and then he’s at my sides, his thumbs grazing the swell of my breasts, making me moan with desire, and then his hands are on my ass, pulling me against his erection that I feel through his sweatpants.

  He groans softly, hungrily, his hips pressing more firmly against mine as his fingers slide into my hair and bury themselves in the strands. It’s both alluring and intimidating how he exudes so much confidence and strength. A dark part of my mind—the corner where doubts are born and thrive—questions if I was any other girl, would his reaction be the same? Is this me or the win?

  He kisses me again and then pulls back, fingers still tangled in my hair. “What’s wrong?” he asks, kissing my cheek, my nose, my lips, my chin. He’s everywhere, consuming me, the scents of his soap and that masculine earthiness that is simply him invading what he can’t touch.

  I shake my head, trying to close the curtain on that dark space, wanting to forget the doubts and questions and lose myself in Pax and pleasure.

  He stills, his hips still pressing against mine, making me wish even harder to forget and continue on because I want to feel him inside of me, directing my body and muscles and giving me that same mind-blowing pleasure that left me limp and speechless last night.

  When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me, his thumb tracing over my cheek. “Talk to me.”

  “This is kind of terrifying,” my words come out on their own accord, feeling like a confession to myself. “I’ve known you for most of my life. Making this deal seemed so simple. I told myself I didn’t know you—that what I did know was in relation to you being Rae’s brother and had nothing to do with me, and I’ve been telling myself this for years. But, the truth is, I do know you. I know you better than almost anyone, I’ve just been very careful to draw lines and compartmentalize my feelings and emotions so that they didn’t stray and allow me to see you as anything but my best friend’s brother.”

  His blue eyes blaze a trail over my face. “I feel what you said, down to every space and period. And it’s scary as hell because I know my last relationship was a train wreck, and I was partially to blame for how often things got derailed and blazed a path of destruction, and I never want to take those risks with you—with us. I want to prove that your heart belongs with me, that I’m good enough to be the man you call yours and stand beside you through every loss and victory and unknown.”

  My heart is pounding so hard and fast, I swear he can hear it.

  “I’m just as fucking terrified,” he tells me. “I know how many guys see you and want you. I know you’re too good for me and that had I been smarter, I would have waited for you years ago and not allowed Mike or Chase or any other asshole be a part of your life to create a single ounce of heartache or doubt.”

  I shake my head. “I’m too good for you? Not only are you a top draft pick, you’re … you. You’re the most genuinely kind person I’ve ever known, and loyal, and so damn nice that you make me want to be a better version of myself. You’re perfect.”

  The smile he gives me in return confirms his perfection. “You’re my perfect. I don’t want to fuck this up, so if you want to slow down and go back to dating and do this for real, without rules or expectations, we can do that.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” I tell him, already worried these last few months before he’s drafted won’t be enough. “I want you.”

  He untangles one hand and places it over my heart. “You already have me.”

  His words feel significant—this e
ntire impromptu conversation does—yet, as his words settle, so do the nerves that have been actively firing off in my head all day long with these thoughts I was unknowingly avoiding. I don’t hesitate another second before lifting to my toes and kissing him, basking in the feeling of his mouth on mine, the warmth of his skin, the taste of his breath, the strength of his touch—I absorb it all.

  Pax’s touch turns possessive as his hands dip below my shirt, tracing across my bare skin. I take a step back, kick off my shoes, and discard my shirt like a hindrance and then add my jeans to the pile, leaving my powder blue underwear and bra set on. My heart throbs, and my body aches with need as Paxton’s gaze explores my body, feasting on me like I’m a coveted piece of art tucked into the Louvre where crowds of people gather around me and impatiently wait their turn.

  My entire core aches with need, and the longer he stares, the more intense that ache becomes until I feel like I’m going to explode. “Pax.” My voice sounds breathy and distressed, and under normal circumstances or with any other person, I’d probably feel embarrassed about how desperate I sound.

  He grips himself as he steps closer to me, and I stare at his hand, the girth of his cock still covered by his sweats. Excitement runs through my body like an active livewire, making my entire body feel needy and sensitive. He stops when he’s a breath away, making my body rejoice and also protest because that small space is too much.

  He leans close, his nose gently skimming the sensitive stretch of skin below my ear, and then his hot lips press against my skin, making me shiver. “Tell me what you want,” he says.

  I’m not even a novice at dirty talk, because that implies I’ve actually tried it. I’m still fifty yards from the starting line, and my nerves are another hundred yards behind that.

  He kisses me again, and I watch as he moves his hand over his thick length. His teeth catch my neck, a teasing warning that makes my heart rate spike. “Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks.