The Rules According to Gracie (6 page)

He pushed the worry from his mind. With Gracie’s curves beneath his hands he didn’t want to think about anything else, about anyone else. He drew her nipple between his lips, scraping the hardened peak gently with his teeth. She gasped, her knees wobbling. Des clamped his thighs around her so she was supported while her head rolled back, her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

“Touch me, Des.” She drew his hand to the wisp of cream lace that concealed her most sacred part. “Please.”

A thump on the door broke them apart and Gracie clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Des?” the young, male voice on the other side of the door sounded wary. “You still in there?”

“What is it?” Des growled as he pushed up from the desk and went to the door without opening it. “Can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“Sorry man, I don’t think it can.”

Des opened the door only enough so that he could shield the office with his body.

“There’s a problem with one of the customers.” His trainee barman’s face was pinched and two men exchanged words on the other side of the bar. “How could you not hear them?”

“Where’s Paul?” Des scanned the bar. His brother was nowhere to be found.

The young barman shrugged. “There was a blond girl…”

He sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

Fuck.

Chapter Six

Gracie stood in the middle of Des Chapman’s office in her underwear, with god knows how many people on the other side of a flimsy wall, and she hadn’t had a single drink. Emmaline’s words had unlocked something inside her—a desire to do something for the sake of pleasure. Something reckless and irresponsible and so
not
her.

What the hell am I doing?

Her body ached, burned, throbbed, and soared in more ways than she knew possible. She could still feel the pressure of his lips around her nipple, the hardness of his excitement between her legs. Stifling a groan, Gracie pressed her thighs together to stop the pulsing there…but it didn’t abate.

“Damn it,” she swore under her breath as the confidence seeped out of her.

She was making a mistake…a
huge
one. Des was forbidden fruit and she’d come
this
close to taking a bite. She didn’t do quickies in a public place. She didn’t throw herself at unsuitable men.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Trembling hands made the fiddly buttons on her shirt a nightmare and she let out a steadying breath before continuing. She was zipping up her jeans when Des walked back into his office.

He raked a hand through his hair. The stubborn waves sprang back into position as soon as he released them. “Don’t go.”

“I shouldn’t have done this.” Her voice trembled as she bent down, scooping up her heels from where they lay, overturned, on the floor. She slipped her shoes on and folded her arms across her chest.

“Gracie…”

“This is your place of work.”

“It’s
my
business. I’m not going to fire myself and with some of the shit the guys pull, no one here is going to say anything.”

“Do they all know what we were doing?” A wave of nausea rolled through her. If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

Twenty-seven years old and she’d never been caught kissing a boy, let alone been caught with both proverbial and literal pants down. She brought her hands up to her cheeks and closed her eyes.

“Of course not.” He swaggered over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “However, if you’re the one making all the noise, I can’t be held responsible for that.”

“Oh, no.” Shame washed over her. Had she been moaning loud enough to breach the walls of the office? When his lips connected with her breast it was like her whole world went blank. She could have been doing anything. “Please stop.”

It wasn’t like she was some virginal innocent. She’d had a lot of sex, but most of it happened to be with her ex. Since then she’d found the few—
very
few—men she’d let into her bedroom to be lacking in all departments. No guy had been able to turn her on like this.

Des was different…and that was exactly what made him dangerous. She fell apart around him, lost control of her sensibilities. That was never a good thing.

“I have a new rule for you.” He brushed his lips over her cheek, the stubble on his jaw scraping against her skin.

“Really?” Rules were comforting; rules were safe. Right now she could do with a little more of that.

“Yes, the rules according to Des.” His hand stroked her lower back, soothing her. “You should never, ever, ever feel ashamed for being turned on. There is no greater joy in life for a man than seeing a gorgeous woman enjoying herself sexually.”

“That’s not a rule.”

“Like hell it isn’t. Rules aren’t purely to stop you from doing things, you know—you can use them for good instead of evil.”

“I don’t use them for evil.”

“Then come home with me.” His eyes locked onto hers, two sparkling black gems that were hypnotic in their power over her.

“Now?” A breath caught in her throat. “But you have a restaurant full of people, you have a business to run, you have—”

“I have the need to see you splayed out naked on my bed, Gracie.” As if to prove his point he backed her up to the wall of his office and pushed his hips against her. “I have the need to taste every sweet inch of you, to bring you to orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.”

She sighed, her head rolling back against the wall while he trailed kisses up her neck.

“Is that a yes?”

“You had me at naked.”

…

There had been plenty of opportunities for Gracie to back out—from the awkward escape at the restaurant, to the short walk to his car, to the ten minute drive to his house. She’d been quiet the whole way, but she never broke contact with him.

Her hands drew intricate patterns on his thigh while he drove and she snuggled against his back as he unlocked the front door. Part of him had wondered if she might gather her senses and make a break for it.

Yet here she was, standing in his living room among the leather furniture, exposed brick, and polished boards. She radiated at the center of it all and he couldn’t look anywhere else.

“Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Soda?” The courtesy was merely a tick in a box because he didn’t want her to think he’d savage her the second they walked through the front door. Though savaging her was
exactly
what he wanted to do.

He worried that she’d use him to scratch an itch and go back to her normal life in the morning, where he would be nothing but a memory. In his normal state, that part would have a louder voice and be more effective to stop him. But logic wasn’t the part of him ruling right now. His cock was throbbing so hard that no other signal in his body could possibly override it.

One night and you can get her out of your system. Then you can both walk away tomorrow, no strings. No emotions.

“I didn’t come here for a drink,” she said, removing her jacket. She slipped it off slowly and draped it over the coffee table. “I came for orgasms.”

Des’s blood simmered anew. Though she smiled and moved slowly, her hand trembled as she undid the buttons of her shirt.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants.”

“I’m not feeling ashamed for being turned on,” she said, parroting his words from earlier, as though convincing herself.

“And how turned on are you?”

She un-zipped her jeans and let them puddle at her feet, her shirt following. In the soft lighting of his lounge room she looked like an angel, the glow of the lamp picked up the burnished tones of her hair and her cream lace underwear was a striking contrast to her olive skin.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Before he had time to think he was in front of her, sweeping her up against him while his lips found hers. She was like liquid pleasure—pliable, fluid. He backed her against the wall, his mouth searing a trail down the slender length of her neck, tasting her honeyed skin. He pushed down the straps of her bra, bending to suck a beaded nipple through the lace cup.

He wanted to know
exactly
how excited she was. His fingertips danced down her side, skimming the scalloped edge of her underwear. Hooking a finger under the waistband, he traced the sensitive flesh there.

She jumped, stifling a cry by pressing her lips together. His free hand skirted around her waist, supporting her while he delved deeper. She was hot, wet.

“Please.” The plea was murmured against his neck. “More.”

His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at her center, stroking slow and steady while she writhed against him. Her body sagged forward as she gasped, her forehead pressed against his chest, her breath hot through his T-shirt.

Pleasure manifested itself in her breathless whimpers as she jerked her hips, increasing the friction between them. Enjoying her frustration far too much, Des held her tight with his other arm to prevent her from taking control. She was completely at his mercy, a groaning, wriggling, firecracker of feminine goodness. His cock pulsed harder. He wanted her badly but the sensation of bringing her to orgasm in his arms was too good to pass up.

“Des.” She stretched out his name until it dissolved into a cry against his chest. “You’re
killing
me.”

“What do you want, Gracie?” He nuzzled her hair, keeping his thumb flicking a steady rhythm against her clit.

“I want to come,” she panted. “Please, I need it.”

He increased the pressure of his hand, rubbing and giving her the purchase she craved. When she broke apart it was like his whole world tilted. Her knees gave out and he held her up while she spasmed against his hand. The weight of her body in his arms and the total control he’d had over her pleasure made Des’s head spin.

Drinking her in with his eyes, he watched as she floated back down. Dark hair tangled around her neck, the soft strands brushing his chest as she flopped forward against him. Her breath filled his ears, the gentle scent of her perfume mingling with the earthy scent of sex. He could have stayed like that—holding her—for days on end.

In that moment he knew he was walking into an ambush.

He needed her in his bed for now. But he wanted her to stay for tomorrow.

…

Were her feet even touching the ground? Or had she lifted off and floated into space? That was the power of one incredible, mind-numbing, bone-melting, earth-shaking orgasm. Goddamn, the man was good with his hands.

On second thought, her feet
weren’t
touching the ground. Gracie’s eyes snapped open and met a solid wall of black. Craning her neck, she realized her face had been buried into Des’s chest and he was carrying her through his house.

“Where are we going?” The words came out fuzzy, slurred with lust and the aftershocks of climax.

“I’m taking you to bed.” His lips pressed against her forehead. “I got the impression your legs weren’t going to be much good for standing after that.”

She hid her face into the soft cotton of his T-shirt again. She had to let go. It wasn’t like she’d never had an orgasm before, but it was safe to say she’d never had one like
that
. Pinwheels of colored light had danced before her eyes, exploding and twirling, fractured rainbow shades. Her body had taken on a mind of its own, giving in so completely and utterly that for a moment afterwards she’d had no idea where she was…or even who she was.

“Good call.” A giggle bubbled up inside her. She was drunk on pleasure. Giddy with lust. Unbalanced by his touch.

“One down, two to go.” His voice was like sandpaper, thick and rough and a little dirty. “I always keep my promises, Gracie.”

She tilted her head and nipped at the tanned skin along his collarbone with her teeth. “That’s another rule of mine: three orgasm minimum.”

“Is that so?” He placed her down, making sure she was steady before releasing her, his hands lingering at her hips.

She nodded, peering up at him through her lashes. “It is now.”

“I’m glad I’ve had a positive impact on your life.” He stroked her arm. “You deserve more than the bare minimum.”

“So four orgasms it is?” She laughed, delighting in the roguish smile that crossed his face.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Speaking of hard…” Her hand hovered at his waist, her fingertips dancing over the chunky silver buckle that kept his jeans in place.

She skimmed her fingertips down over the hard ridge of his erection, which was perfectly outlined beneath faded denim. His sharp intake of breath emboldened her and she traced the tip with her finger, swirling it over the most sensitive part of him. It was as if some force controlled her, filled her with the confidence to do what she normally shied away from.

“This is payback isn’t it?” His dark eyes were shielded by thick lashes, his voice strained.

“You bet it is.”

She gave him a light squeeze before working her way back up. Tugging on the leather belt, she undressed him slowly, taking her time with the buckle, button, and zip until there was enough space for her to slip her hand into his pants. She closed her fingers around him, the throb of his need strong against her palm.

“Sweet mother of G–” He stood stock still, allowing her to move her hand inch by inch along the length of him.

Supressing an evil laugh, she withdrew her hand and reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it upwards to reveal the flat, muscular plane of his stomach. He was built, more so than she’d ever realized at the bar. The intricate designs of his tattoos ran over one shoulder and down both arms. Color swirled, and the black outlines made each shape pop against his olive skin. A lion’s head with a date scribed in its mane covered his left pec.

Gracie traced the design, following the curved black lines of the lion’s nose with her fingertip. “What’s this date?”

“It’s the date I got out of prison.”

Her hand retracted and she looked up at him, her eyes wide. He laughed and shook his head.

“You really do think I’m from the wrong side of tracks, don’t you?” He captured her hand and brought it back to his chest. “It’s the date my mother went into remission after having breast cancer. Her name is Leone. It means lion in Italian.”

Heat flared in her cheeks. He could read her more easily than anyone she’d ever known. It wasn’t the first time she’d shown how naïve she was, though with a mother like hers it was a miracle she could even function in modern society.

“I’ll make you pay for that.” She covered her embarrassment with a coy smile and a flutter of her lashes.

“I don’t think so.” Des scooped her up once more and she instinctively wound her legs around his waist.