Breaking All Her Rules (5 page)

“Because. Things moved a little bit fast last time and I didn’t get to do something. I regret it.”

“What?”

He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her, pushing his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, cupping her butt. Squeezing her. Then he kissed her throat, the valley between her breasts. And as he moved lower, he brought her panties down with him, until they were around her ankles, and he was kneeling in front of her.

He braced his hands on her hips and tugged her forward, pressing his mouth to the tender skin just above the dark hair at the apex of her thighs.

She shivered and he tightened his hold on her, kissing her again, this time just beneath her hip bone, before moving back.

“This is what I want,” he said, sliding his tongue between her slick folds, over her clit, then deep inside her body.

He groaned, moving his hands so that he was holding her ass. It had been too long. Too long since he’d indulged himself this way. Since he’d tasted a woman. Given her pleasure while he took his own.

And even that was simplifying it too much. Because in the moment, how long it had been since he’d been with someone else didn’t matter. He could have done this to another woman yesterday and it wouldn’t have made Grace—her scent, her flavor—any less intoxicating.

She forked her hands through his hair, tugging, the sharp pain sending another throb of arousal through his body.

“Zack.” She said his name like a prayer. Or a curse. He wasn’t sure which. And it didn’t really matter.

He increased his efforts, licking her, sucking her, and she tugged harder on his hair. He moved his hand, pushing his fingers between her thighs, pushing one deep inside her body.

A sharp, shocked sound escaped her lips. He lifted his head. “Should I stop?”

“No!”

He chuckled and lowered his head, tasting her long and deep, and she shivered beneath his tongue. So perfect. So intense. Her response was enough to make him come then and there. But not yet. No, not yet. He needed to be inside her.

“I could do this all day,” he said, sliding the flat of his tongue over her sensitized flesh and blowing lightly on her damp skin.

“I would...die,” she said, breathless, her legs starting to wobble.

He braced her, held her up, kissing her deeper, working his tongue inside of her until she cried out, her hands moving to his shoulders, nails digging deep into his skin.

“Can’t have that,” he said, as out-of-breath as she was. And he hadn’t even gotten his. “You’re too damn pretty.”

“Is that the only reason I’m of...any use to you?” she asked, still panting.

“Hell no.” He stood up, keeping his hold tight on her, lifting her off the ground. Then he saw the condom on the table. “I need you for all kinds of things.”

He moved her to the table. “Put your hands on the doily, darlin’.”

She obeyed, but shot him a look. “You need me for sex,” she said.

“Same reason you need me,” he said, positioning himself behind her, reaching for the condom. “What else would need some big, rough cowboy for? Certainly not for work events. You just need to use me. For your own personal satisfaction.”

“That’s true,” she said. “I’m using you, too.”

“We’re using each other. And that doesn’t have to be cheap or dirty. It’s pretty damn hot really.” He rolled the condom onto his length and guided himself to the wet entrance to her body, testing her slowly. “Bend over just a little more,” he said.

She obeyed, and he pushed in deeper. He swore. “You’re so tight.”

“You’re just big,” she said, her voice shaky.

Her put his hand on her hip, then slid his palm over her stomach and down between her legs, running his fingers through her folds. “Okay?”

“So...good. I didn’t even know...I didn’t...” He thrust his hips forward and she moaned in response. “I didn’t know it could be so good.”

Then he couldn’t say anything else. All he could do was give in to the desire roaring through his body. All he could do was chase his release, each thrust bringing him closer.

“Harder,” she said, the word a near-growl.

“Like this?” he asked, pulling her back against him as he pounded into her.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Don’t be careful. Just...you don’t need to be careful.”

So he wasn’t. He stroked her in time with his thrusts, until he couldn’t hold on anymore. That he’d had this much control was a damn miracle. And it was all gone now.

He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, bracing himself for the release that was about to hit. But there was no preparing for it.

She let out a hoarse cry, her internal muscles tightening around him, and that was the end of his restraint. He swore, holding onto her so tightly he thought he might leave a bruise. She moaned again, shifting her hands on the table, dragging the doily—and vase—to the side, and tipping it and its contents onto the floor.

“I hope that wasn’t expensive,” he said, eyeing the shards of porcelain on the floor.

She laughed, the sound unsteady. She moved away from him. “Careful, don’t have shoes on.” She still did. She still had the shoes, her stockings and her bra. “I’ll get a broom. Stay back.”

She ran a hand over her flushed cheeks and walked back into the kitchen area and he couldn’t help but watch her butt.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Bathroom?”

“That way.”

She gestured to the hall at the other end of the living room. He found his way and disposed of the condom, returning just in time to see her sweeping up the last of the vase.

“It was my Nai-Nai’s. Poor Grandma, she loved this vase.”

All the blood drained out of his face. “Grace...”

“I’m kidding!” she said. “Sorry, bad joke. And my grandmother is alive, in one of those really nice assisted-living places. The vase was from Target.”

Grace felt like she’d made a huge misstep with Zack just now. Which was great since she was still knocked loopy from having sex in her entryway. Like that. She’d never done it like that before. It was intense. And amazing. And then she’d ruined it with a dead-grandma joke.

“I’m sorry, Zack. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not...it was a joke.”

He still looked stunned. And a little pale. “You don’t look okay.”

“I understand how much things can mean to you after you lose someone,” he said. “If I would have broken your grandmother’s vase because I was an impatient jerk who bent you over what is...a damn nice but delicate-looking table, I would have felt like a giant moron.”

“It’s fine. I’ve never had anything like this. Where...where it seemed easier to do it like that because walking to the bedroom is too hard. I’m...enjoying it.”

“I’m glad you find me enjoyable.”

“Specifically I find your...male member enjoyable.”

“Oh, back on such formal terms,” he said, shaking his head. “You were on a more familiar basis with my...member.”

Her face heated. “Well, that was...I was in the moment. Have you eaten?”

“I nibbled on some cold shellfish. And yeah, nibble is all I got for that. Tiny, slippery cold...I haven’t eaten.”

“Would you like to stay? And build up your strength so that you can do—” she waved her hand “—all that to me again?”

She couldn’t believe she was inviting him to stay, but honestly...she’d been consumed with not putting a toe out of line for years. For always. Since high school, and college, and then onto her job, where she’d kept her head down and just tried to be...what she thought she was supposed to be. Which was a lot of hard work. And she’d had relationships, but they’d just been a nice addendum to her work life. Like whipped cream on your latte. Sure, it was good, but without it you still had a latte.

Losing David had been like losing whipped cream. Except by then she’d been kind of tired of him. And she was never tired of whipped cream, so maybe that was a bad example.

Not tired of him in an active way. It’s just...when he’d said it was time to end it, it had seemed right to her, too. That wasn’t normal.

Maybe she was dysfunctional. Possibly a cyborg. She’d long suspected. She’d even been accused of it a time or two.

But hard work and doing right were important. Those values had been instilled in her early, and success in those things didn’t come by accident. She’d wanted to show her parents that they didn’t have to worry about her. That she was going to do things...perfect. That meant good grades, that meant while she was getting established very few things could take a higher priority than her job.

Right now, though, her job was causing her stress. And orgasms were...a form of stress release.

“How long are you here?” she asked.

“Two weeks,” he said. “I have the exhibition and before that about a million meetings and cocktail get-together thingies.”

“You sound enthused.”

“I’m not.”

“What do you like to eat?”

“Stuff that is too big for a toothpick.” He bent down and picked up his pants, then put them on without putting on any underwear. Oh, my. That would be fun later.

He was so hot. All hard abs and pecs, sprinkled with a light dusting of brown hair. For a moment she forgot what they were discussing.

“Right um...pizza? Thai? Indian?”

“Indian would be good,” he said, sinking onto her white, Victorian-style settee. He looked...almost comical on it. So big and masculine and dark against the floral velvet.

“Great, I’ll put in an order.” She walked into the kitchen and pulled up her favorite restaurant on her phone and placed a quick order. “Done.”

“You didn’t even make a call.”

“Yeah, I try not to talk to people if I don’t have to. I have to talk to people all day in my business so...”

“So you avoid them later. Good plan. That’s what I do six months out of the year, not in a solid chunk, mind you. Then for the other six months I do things like this. I was in Paris two months ago, and went all through Europe. I have to go again soon.”

She laughed. “Oh, wow. You
have
to go?”

“Yeah. London.”

“I think that sounds amazing.” She rested her elbows on the kitchen counter and looked at him. “You don’t seem thrilled.”

“I am. I mean...I don’t know.” He took a deep breath and looked away from her, staring straight out in front of him, at nothing. “Sometimes I think my give-a-damn is busted.”

This probably pertained to his ex-wife. And she bet that was off-limits for them, since they were just having sex. And apparently eating takeout.

“How did you get into art?” she asked, a safer question. “You really, really don’t seem like the type. You’re too...”

“Country?”

“Grounded. I think of artists, particularly of the modern variety who are successful, and I think of...whimsy.”

“Whimsy?”

“Yes.”

He spread his arms out wide, the muscles in his forearms shifting. “Am I not whimsical?”

“Not so much, cowboy.”

“What about the fox I drew for you? Wasn’t he whimsical?”

“All right,” she said, smiling when she thought of the sketch. “He was kind of whimsical. What medium do you normally work in?”

“I do a lot of metal work. Iron. Welding.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” It accounted for his physique, that was for sure.

“I’m basically a glorified blacksmith. But I make animals and people rather than armor and shoes for...animals and people.”

“I think that’s amazing.”

“Gives me something to pour a lot of physical frustration into that’s for sure.”

“It’s more interesting than being a financial advisor.”

He tilted his head back, his eyes meeting hers again. “Then why are you a financial advisor?”

“I’m good at it. And I do enjoy it. I want...I want to be successful.”

He nodded slowly. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I’ve never cared if I was.”

“And you are,” she said. The downstairs buzzer went off. “Bet that’s the food.” She walked to the door and hit the intercom button. “Yes?”

A voice crackled through the speaker. “Ms. Song, I have your dinner.”

She pushed the button to open the door, then looked back at Zack. It was funny. Sometimes he just seemed like the a man’s man. Steady, not taking much too seriously. Like he was a guy who didn’t care about much with any great depth.

And then in a flash she would witness a moment of deep, aching sadness that she didn’t think matched anything she’d ever felt in her whole life.

She was seeing it now. And it made her wonder if it was there all the time, kept under everything else, but there.

It was terrifying to her. She wasn’t sure why, only that it was.

There was a knock at the door and she jumped. “The food.” She turned and went to the door, took the order in and paid as quickly as possible. Then she went into the kitchen and started setting the foam boxes out on the counter. “Oh, good. Paper plates and plastic utensils in here. And...want to open a bottle of wine?”

“That would be good.” He got up from the couch and walked into the little kitchen, filling up the space even more alarmingly than he’d filled up the couch.

“Everything for that is in the cupboard by the fridge, including the aerator.”

“Aerator. That’s pretty fancy considering we have paper plates.”

“Yeah, well, we’re celebrating,” she said, dishing rice, chicken tikka masala and naan onto their plates.

“What are we celebrating?” he asked, turning the corkscrew, then tugging the cork out before pouring the wine. He’d skipped the aerator but she wouldn’t be shrewish about it.

“Good sex,” she said. “Which is a lot rarer than you might think.”

“Yeah?” he asked, tipping the glass of wine up to his lips.

“I’ve never had it before you.”

He snorted into his wineglass and sent several droplets of dark red over the edge of the glass. “Really?” he asked, coughing.

“I’ve had okay sex. I’ve had orgasms but...you know I can give those to myself. Have been for six months now. Batteries are cheaper than men, I find.”

She didn’t know why she was telling him this stuff. Normally she’d be embarrassed. But the guy had just bent her over a table so there wasn’t really much to be embarrassed about at this point.