No sex.

No make-out sessions.
One good kisser and Isla is done for.

No heavy petting.
One brush anywhere near her nether regions and she might as well rip this whole thing up.

Dating is allowed.
If she wants to torture herself.

Masturbation is okay.
Under controlled circumstances.

No sex!

No Sex!

NO SEX!

She exhaled slowly.

You’re being ridiculous.

Her hand closed around the doorknob.

Then—

Footsteps.

Right outside her room.

Her entire body went rigid.

Someone was there.

She held her breath until her chest ached, afraid even the smallest sound might give her away.

The footsteps stopped.

Silence followed.

Complete.

Unbroken.

Perhaps whoever it was had left.

Perhaps they had realized no one was home.

Perhaps—

The door exploded inward with a deafening crash.

The edge struck Isla square in the forehead before she could react. Pain flared sharp and immediate, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Then everything went dark.