Free Aussie Rules by Jill Shalvis Page A

she felt the hard wood of the desk at her hips, and the harder body of Bo Black at her front. The cool steel of the letter opener remained a comforting weight in her palm.
    â€œBecause you know if you admit it,” he said, “they’ll stop thinking the sun rises and falls on your shoulders.”
    No. She shook her head in denial of that. Having them admire and look up to her was absolutely not why she ran this place for Sally.
    She did it because the place was home, the only real home she’d ever had.
    Well, okay, on second thought, damn it, yes, and because they looked up to her and admired her. It gave her a sense of worth. Was that really such a crime? Could he really not understand at all?
    Of course he couldn’t. He was confident to the point of complete obnoxiousness. He didn’t care what people thought of him, it would never even occur to him to wonder. He’d probably never doubted himself, not once.
    â€œWhat’s going on in here, Mel?” he asked, gently tapping her temple. “You’ve left me. To think about what else you’re hiding?”
    Hard to think, much less talk, with his body so close to hers, and she resented that he probably knew it. “You didn’t by any chance e-mail me the other day, did you?”
    His eyes narrowed. “No. Why?”
    â€œJust…wondering.”
    â€œYou get a strange e-mail?”
    No, just a threatening one .
    His gaze dropped to her mouth. His eyes darkened. “Stubborn to a beautiful fault. That’s okay, I’ll figure it out.” Caging her in by putting a hand on either side of her hips, he shifted closer still, forcing her to tip her head back to keep looking into his eyes. “You could just tell me and save us both a lot of time and frustration.”
    She tightened her mouth, making him laugh. “No worries, mate. So…back to ex-lovers?”
    She licked her lips nervously. “It’s not so unreasonable a story. It’s obvious we’re on edge around each other. We…had a falling out. It was for the best, with you being an ass and all.”
    He ran the pad of his finger over the base of her throat, and something warm and delicious and utterly dangerous slid into her belly. “If I’m so off-putting,” he murmured, “you’re going to want to work on this, then.”
    â€œOn what?”
    Again a swipe of his thumb over her wild pulse. “On how bad you want me.”
    She slapped his hand away but in a lightning-quick move, he snagged her wrist, and then her other, the one that held the letter opener. He eyed the steel point with curious amusement, then squeezed until it clattered from her fingers to the floor. “You might want to work on that, too. That temper you clearly have smoldering for me.” He tsked. “Dead giveaway on that wanting-me-bad thing.”
    â€œYou are delusional.”
    â€œWhy?” His gaze met hers. “Are you taken?”
    â€œTaken?”
    â€œCommitted.”
    â€œNo. Not committed.” Not that she had anything against the idea in theory, but though she’d had lovers here and there over the years, she’d always discovered some fatal flaw and broken things off before anything too serious began. Char called the phenomenon the Anderson Chronicles. Dimi called it pathetic.
    Closing the gap between them, Bo pressed his body to hers. Her nipples had gone hard at the beginning of this little discussion, and now they bore into his chest. Could he feel them? She thought maybe by the look on his face that he could.
    â€œSo you don’t want me,” he said a little hoarsely. “Not even a little.”
    She had to clear her throat to talk. “Not even a little.”
    â€œProve it,” he whispered, lowering his head so that their mouths were only a fraction apart.
    â€œI don’t have to prove anything—”
    He clucked like a chicken.
    â€œThis is so juvenile.” Her