Off Limits
He looks at me again, really looks, and I feel stripped bare in a way that has nothing to do with my open robe, my bare thighs, the wetness still cooling on my skin.
"Not like this," he says. "Not with you half-undressed and me standing here like a fucking idiot, still hard from watching you touch yourself." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Jesus, Bella. You're supposed to be off-limits."
"Says who?"
"Says your brother. Says every rule I've ever told myself about you. Says—" He stops, his jaw working, and I watch him fight with whatever he's about to say next.