I slid down the door until I hit the carpet, my pulse ricocheting through my insides. “I don’t do men,” I whispered to the empty room, as if saying it out loud would re-solidify the rule I’d carved into myself. “I do not do men.”
Unfortunately, the universe did not clap politely and hand me a certificate for not doing men. Instead, my brain replayed every sinful, magnetic, infuriating thing Sterling had said, starting with the moment he’d popped out of the woods and I’d pepper-sprayed him.
You’re going to break that promise for me.
I was dying just thinking of that line.
“No, I’m not,” I hissed at my own treacherous skeleton. “That promise is welded shut. Industrially reinforced. It’s safety-rated.”
My heart did another soft, humiliating flutter, though, the kind I was unfortunately e
