122 Rules by Deek Rhew Page A

lay down flat against his chest as she continued to rotate her hips, setting a slow and deliberate tempo.
    As they moved together, their rhythm and intensity increasing, she let out little moans and gasps. As she neared orgasm, she sat up, leaned back, and put her hands on his chest, riding him harder. A cry emanated from deep in her throat as her release went on and on, and she felt him push up as he followed her.
    She lay down on top on top of him, not releasing him but instead holding tight. She drifted off to sleep with a smile in the stuffy little room.
     
    * * *
     
    The next morning, Susan woke at her normal time, donned her robe, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. A half hour later, she returned to her room with two steaming mugs of coffee and a small plate of cinnamon rolls from a tube she’d found in back of the fridge.
    “Good morning,” Peter said, sitting up.
    “Good morning to you. Hungry?” she asked, irritated he hadn’t gotten dressed and, in fact, continued to linger in her bed.
    “Starving.”
    She handed him the coffee, a pastry, and a napkin.
    “Thank you.” He took a sip.
    She nodded, disrobed, and started pulling on her office clothes. Take the clue, boy. Time for you to go.
    He watched her for a minute. “What’s on your agenda for the day?” he asked around a mouthful of pastry.
    “I need to go to work.”
    “You work on Saturdays?”
    Crap. Duh. It’s Saturday. Okay, no problem. That makes perfect sense; we’ve got a busy office and lots of pressing matters. “Yep, and though I’ve had fun, you need to go. Here.” She tossed the stack of documents she’d reviewed for him onto the bed.
    “Oh, sure. No problem.”
    “There are a few notes you should pay attention to, but overall it looks good. May I give you a little advice?”
    He took another sip of his coffee. “Sure.”
    “Leave town.”
    “Pardon?”
    “Leave. This place is a cesspool. The town is dying. The economy’s in the toilet. There’re no jobs and no prospects. It would be impossible to build a life here. Save your money and save yourself. Get out before it drags you down and sucks out your soul.”
    “What if one has a romantic prospect?” He gave her his warm and inviting smile.
    She’d considered it. Thought about it at great lengths while the rolls baked and the coffee brewed. Thought about asking him to take her for another ride on his bike, but this time, they would leave town and never come back. But no matter how much she’d laughed at his jokes and gave herself to him in bed, she couldn’t see them sharing a life on the run. He had a reserved, rule-following nature about him, that wouldn’t meld itself to life with a fugitive. She’d had her fun, given the FBI the finger, but now she needed to seriously consider getting out of town, and she couldn’t do that with this man around.
    “No. That’s not going to happen. I had fun, but this was a one-time deal. I have to stay here, but you shouldn’t.”
    To his credit, Peter’s expression did not falter when he nodded. “Okay, I understand. I’ll get dressed and get out of your hair.” He stood and pulled on his clothes. Finishing his coffee, he headed towards the front of the house.
    She opened the door for him, grateful to be almost done. “Thank you. I had a nice time.”
    He turned on the stoop, touched her chin, and kissed her gently. “Thank you. If I don’t see you again, I hope things work out. I really do.”
    Goosebumps broke out on her body at the touch of his lips and the earnest pain in his eyes. The thought of asking him back into the house flashed through her mind. Something about the moment had touched her deeper than she could have ever imagined, and she longed to talk to him about it. She wanted to know what he felt at that instant. But before she could even consider formulating the words, he donned his helmet, climbed on his bike, and drove away.
    She watched him until he dwindled from