Free The Sweetheart Rules by Shirley Jump

he moved inside her, and every bit of that knowledge fluttered through her brain, like speed-reading the Mike Stark pages of the encyclopedia.
    “I’d much rather we were something other than friends.”
    “Something…” The meaning dawned, a little slowly because she was still caught up in his eyes and his touch and his lips, and, well, all of him. She shook her head and his finger dropped away. “That’s not a good idea, Mike. We want different things.”
    “Are you sure about that?”
    “Uh-huh.” Except right now she couldn’t remember a single thing she wanted. Heck, she couldn’t remember her own name. But she could remember making love with Mike Stark, hot, furious, curl-your-toes and fry-your-brain sex that had left her satisfied and drained and amazed.
    “Yeah, me too,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he meant he was sure, too, or if he was reading her mind and thinking how incredible that one night had been.
    She opened her mouth to tell him that she had to leave, but the words didn’t come. Her lips parted, her breath whispered in and out, and her heart stilled, waiting, anticipating, hoping. Mike’s blue eyes captured hers. Fire flickered in his gaze, and before she could think twice, his arms were around her, she was molded against him, and he was kissing her.
    No, not kissing. They’d never just kissed, like some happy ending to a romantic comedy. Mike
commandeered
her mouth, and took her on a wild, frenzied, heated ride that sent fire through her veins, pooled liquid in her gut, and had her panting and arching against him, pressing her pelvis to his, begging for release.
    And that was just the first three seconds.
    He pressed one hand against the sensitive dip above her ass, while the other tangled in her hair and drew her closer. His tongue slipped between her lips, claiming another stake. She grabbed at his back, almost clawing at the muscles that flexed beneath the soft cotton of his shirt.
    He snaked a hand between them to cup her breast, and when his thumb rubbed a rough circle against the cotton fabric, she gasped.
Oh, God, I want him. Now. Here
.
    At the same time:
Oh, God, don’t make the same mistake again.
    The word
mistake
drummed in her head, over and over. She’d been down this road. She knew where it led.
    Smack dab into a dead end.
    Diana jerked out of Mike’s arms. She collided with cold metal, and the kennel fencing protested with a sharp creak. The dogs start barking again, louder this time, as if sensing she was about to flee. “I… I have to go.”
    His hand lighted on her arm. “Don’t. Let’s talk.”
    “About what, Mike? About how we dated for weeks, then had one great night in the sack? A night that didn’t mean anything?”
    His blue eyes studied hers. “Are you saying you forgot all about that night?”
    “I’m saying I’m over it. In the past. Done.” That was three protests. Maybe one too many.
    “I shouldn’t have kissed you, then.”
    She raised her chin. “No, you shouldn’t have. And I would prefer you didn’t try anything like that again.”
    “Well, we can at least be… civil, can’t we?” A tease lit his eyes that said they both knew that civil wasn’t how anyone would describe that kiss a moment ago. “Considering we’ll end up running into each other a lot, since your sister is engaged to my best friend.”
    Her gaze locked on his, on the slight crinkles in the corners of his eyes, the laugh lines on his face. They gave his youthful features definition, an edge. She liked that about him. Or she used to, anyway. Before she realized that Mike Stark was another in a long line of men she’d dated who would delay growing up until they were collecting Social Security.
    Mistake.
She needed to put that on a sign and hang it around his neck. “Why bother?” she said. “We both know you’re not staying here one day longer than you have to.”
    “I never promised you anything beyond that night, Diana.”
    Her eyes stung, and her