Soft Skin, Hard Rules (Rules)

Rules were how Lila kept control. The art studio she owned was built on them—clean lines, clear boundaries, and a firm separation between her life and the lives of her students. Discipline was the only way she knew how to maintain the order that kept her from unraveling. Then Tyson walked in. He wasn't just another student; he was a disruption in human form. Confidence rolled off him like heat, his voice smooth and unhurried, his eyes making her feel exposed in a way no paintbrush ever had. He carried himself like a man who knew exactly how women looked when they forgot the rules, and worse, he looked at her like he wanted to see it happen. Every touch of his hand against a canvas near hers felt deliberate. Every word he spoke carried a double meaning she couldn't ignore. And when his fingers accidentally brushed her wrist, her knees nearly gave out under the weight of something she hadn't felt in years—want. Boundaries blurred one soft stroke at a time until the rules she'd written for everyone else became the ones she was desperate to break.