Breaking All Her Rules (8 page)

“Great. Get to work.”

She watched him labor over the statue while she sat in the chair and ate noodles from a carton. She took off her jacket, he took off his shirt.

After about an hour she stood up and put the carton under his chin, lifting her chopsticks to his mouth. “Eat.”

He opened and took a bite, then glared at her. “Are you force-feeding me?” he asked around a mouthful of food.

“Yes. Because you didn’t stop to eat.”

“I’m pondering,” he said, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

She couldn’t help but ponder the drops of sweat running down his skin. She wanted to lick his body. All over. And then she wanted to hold him all night. She’d never felt this way about anyone before. And that was...well, it wasn’t what she’d bargained for.

It felt a lot like what she’d been missing in her previous relationships.

It felt a lot like she was falling for him.

Lusty. It’s just super extra lusty-pants stuff.

It was all it could be. He’d said himself, it would never be anything else ever.

“Well, chew and ponder at the same time,” she said.

“It’s good.”

“I know. One of my other favorite places. I don’t cook, if you were curious about that.”

“You don’t strike me as the type. I cook,” he said. “If you were wondering.”

“You cook?”

“Yes, because I also eat. And I’m single. And there isn’t much in the way of good takeout in Pine Ridge Falls.”

“Oh, seriously, that’s a place? It sounds like a hollow in a...made-up story with woodland creatures.”

“It’s a real place,” he said. “On the Oregon coast. And there are expanses of beach with no one there. Trees, mountains and not a single high-rise building.”

“Sounds like...a good place to visit.”

“That’s how I feel about the city.”

For some reason, that made her heart sink. Which was silly. Because it wasn’t like their relationship had staying power. It wasn’t like they had to want to live in the same place.

They just had to want to inhabit the same space, naked, for the next couple of weeks. This wasn’t about changing things, or finding deep feelings. It was about letting go, exploring this completely unknown level of chemistry.

That was all.

“Well, fine, but in the city you have takeout.”

“And at home I have the farmer’s market. And beef from local ranches...”

“We have Whole Foods.”

He laughed. “You do. But the traffic.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. But this is why you order groceries, and food, and have it come to your house. And then you don’t have to leave. Or see people.”

“Are you really blaming your job for your lack of social life because it sounds to me like you’re kind of a willing hermit.”

“What about you? Do you have friends in Mayberry Glen?”

“Pine Ridge Falls. And not many. It’s hard. Everyone kind of looks at you with sad eyes all the time. Because in a small town everyone knows you and your business. And you can hardly go out and eat alone without people patting you on the back and asking if you’re okay.”

“Thus your cooking skills.”

“Thus. Plus, like you said, being alone is nice sometimes.”

“Boy, aren’t we a pair?”

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile tugging the corners of his lips. “We are.”

She wrapped one arm around his waist and kissed his mouth. He leaned in and deepened it, and she tried to wrap her other arm—still clutching the takeout—around his neck.

“I think we can call this finished,” he said. “I’m in the mood for something other than art.”

“Me, too.”

“Not here, though, because technically it’s a shared space and I don’t share. Not my studio time, and not you.”

And she feared that all of her good intentions, her desire to remain detached, had crumbled in that moment. She did her best to keep it light. To keep it teasing. “Oooh. Possessive.”

“I’m old-fashioned that way. No other guys are invited to this party.”

“Other women?”

“Nope,” he said, “not even then.”

“Good. Because while certain extra, vibrating artificial body-parts are welcome...I’m not that adventurous.”

“Well, maybe we should see just how adventurous you are.”

Chapter Eight

Grace and Zack spent the next week in bed together. Okay, not entirely. There was still the matter of work for Grace and work-related functions for Zack. But they either slept in his suite, or her apartment.

Grace had to admit, she kind of liked staying in his suite. It made her feel like a fancy call girl. Or, you know, something less sordid but kind of naughty.

The thing about spending so much time with Zack was that he was sort of an irresistible son-of-a-gun. She only wished the irresistible factor was limited to his body. Sadly for her, there were other things. Things in her chest that seemed to respond to the things that came from his chest.

Which, she supposed, was a very avoid-y way of admitting she responded to his feelings. That she felt them in her.

Grace watched from her position on the couch as Zack crossed the suite completely naked, and unashamed.

His body was so hot. Muscular thighs, washboard-flat abs. Not to mention his cock. Yeah, she’d thought it. She could even say it now mostly without blushing. When they were actually in the moment, anyway.

Or when she was in her own private moment, fawning over his gorgeous body. Like now.

“You’re sexy,” she said, sliding her hand over her stomach as she watched him.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said, shamelessly admiring the lines that ran along his hip bones, pointing downward to that most glorious part of him. “I’ve never enjoyed just staring a man the way I enjoy staring at you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You like me, huh?”

“I told you,” she said.

They’d been all over each other from the moment she’d gotten off work three hours earlier, but that hadn’t seemed to dampen her need for him. Far from it.

“Yeah, you showed me, too,” he said. “And you know what they say about actions speaking louder than words.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, smiling at him.

He moved his hand downward and gripped his own shaft, squeezing. The sight was way more erotic than she’d ever expected anything like that to be. But damn, she liked it. His big masculine hand on his big, masculine...

She bit her lip and arched up her hips.

He smiled, his expression wicked.

“You like what you see, Gracie?” he asked, running his palm over his shaft, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes,” she said.

“Show me.”

“How?” she asked.

“Touch yourself.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes. Touch yourself for me, baby,” he said, his voice a low growl now.

She bent her legs at the knees, and slowly parted her thighs for him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized just what a show he was getting. They’d been very intimate over the course of the past week, but this felt...it was so deliberate. It was counter to everything she’d been taught about
proper
and
right.

Ladies sat with their ankles crossed. They didn’t spread their legs and show off for horny, naked cowboys.

But at the moment, she didn’t really care what she was supposed to do. She only cared about what she wanted to do.

That was an effect that Zack seemed to have on her.

He was magic that way. And she felt the magic all the way through. All the way to her soul.

“Put your foot up on the armrest so I can see better,” he said, his hand still working his erection.

She obeyed, the action spreading her wider, letting him see everything.

“Now touch yourself,” he said. “Show me how you want me to touch you.”

Grace took a broken breath and put her hand between her thighs, running her hand over her damp folds, trapping her clit between her fingers and gasping at the shot of pleasure that burst through her like a firecracker.

She kept her eyes on Zack, on his intent expression, on the hand that was wrapped around his erection.

“So hot, baby,” he said, squeezing himself, a muscle in his jaw ticking, the tendons in his neck standing out. He looked like a man on the edge of control. A man on the verge of release. All from looking at her.

She moved her fingers over herself again and bit her lip as pleasure pulsed through her.

“Yeah, Grace, that’s so hot.”

Heat flooded her cheeks and she grew bolder in her exploration, pushing herself closer to the edge while Zack urged himself closer, too.

“Come here,” she said, her words coming out in a short, harsh burst. “Now.”

He obeyed, keeping himself near her feet. “No,” she said. “I want to taste you.”

She sat up, her feet on the floor, and Zack approached, his hand still tight around the base of his penis. She leaned forward and ran the tip of her tongue over his abs. “I really do want to lick you everywhere,” she said, putting her palm flat on his stomach and running her thumb along the hard ridge of muscle. “So sexy.”

“You’re a secret bad girl, aren’t you?” he asked, a glint of fire in his eyes.

“I think so.” But it was more than that. More than just the freedom she felt at his hands. More than the inhibitions he helped her shed. It was just him. A need for him that was insatiable, that left no room for considerations of being
good
.

She didn’t care about being good now. She just wanted to be his.

She leaned in and tasted him before taking the head of his shaft into her mouth, a hum of appreciation on her lips.

She dipped her head and took him in deeper. There was no way she could take all of him. She put her hand over his and used it to help pleasure him, moving it in time with her mouth, her tongue.

He released his hold on himself, both of his hands going to her head, fingers forking deep through her hair and tugging hard.

She moved one hand back between her own thighs as she continued to work on him, pushing herself closer to release as she took him there, too.

She pushed a finger deep inside of herself and brushed her thumb over her sensitized flesh, orgasm roaring through her, a raw sound on her lips.

He swore and pulled away, stroking himself, his eyes locked on hers. And she suddenly didn’t want him to detach from this. From her. She put her hands on his butt and pulled him closer. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw clenched tight. He stroked himself again before coming on a harsh groan, spilling himself over her breasts.

“Oh...damn,” he breathed, his whole body shaking. “I’m sorry. Sorry. Dammit. Sorry.”

“Don’t,” she said, standing and kissing him on the lips. “Don’t be. I wanted that. I want...you. All of you.”

She realized the truth of it when she said it. That she wanted so much more of him than she should. Than he would ever want to give.

“I need a shower,” she said. “Want to come?”

“I think I did. And that’s why you need a shower.”

“That was a dirty joke.”

“Yes,” he said, “yes it was.”

He didn’t look like he was joking, though. He looked kind of grave. And she wished he wouldn’t. Because it made her feel things. Deep, sincere things that were more important than the hierarchy at her company. That were more important than fiscal and professional success.

The happiness he was talking about. A deep, altering feeling that she was afraid was going to rearrange her entire, well-ordered insides.

This wasn’t what she’d wanted. Not at all. But she was afraid it was what she had, whether she was looking for it or not.

“All right,” he said, “lead the way.”

“No thanks. You can lead the way.”

He arched a brow.

“I want to watch your behind while we walk,” she said, fluttering her lashes at him.

“I think I’m a bad influence on you,” he said.

“I actually like to think I’m being a bad influence on myself, and I’m taking you down with me.”

He did smile at that. A genuine one that made her heart squeeze tight.

“Go on now,” she said, standing back and waiting for him to start walking toward the bathroom.

She followed him and took in the view, then waited while he turned the shower on and let it warm up. She stepped inside, and he stayed out, watching her as she washed away the evidence of their passion.

“What?” she asked. “Get in here!”

“I like the view.”

“Well, I want to touch.”

He stepped into the shower and pushed her against the wall, the motion swift and decisive, his kiss hard. She gripped the back of his neck and held him to her, kissing him back with everything in her. All the emotion. All the need. All the everything that she hadn’t been wanting or expecting. It didn’t matter what she wanted, she realized suddenly.

It was there all the same.

Wanting anything other than sex with Zack Camden was a recipe for disaster. It made no sense. He didn’t want anything more than sex, and even if he did, they would still live a broad expanse of country away from each other.

So there was no reason for her to say the words that were pounding through her head. No reason at all for her to feel them or think them. And really, really, really no reason to say them.

But he was so perfect against her, so hot and hard and slick.

She put her hand on his chest, and she could feel his heart beating. And she couldn’t hold it back, not anymore.

“I’m in love with you, Zack,” she said, the words torn from her on a sob, the force of them shaking her. She hadn’t expected them, but she knew the moment they left her mouth that they were true. That this was what the burning, brilliant sensation that had been building inside of her over the past week meant.

Because she loved the person he was making her become.

Because she loved his strength, his talent. Because his pain had broken her and his smile lit something inside her on fire.

Because he made her want something more, when nothing and no one else ever had.

He froze, then pulled away from her. “Grace, don’t,” he said, his voice hard.

“Sorry. No...you know what? I’m not sorry,” she said, pushing away from the wall, the water washing over her body. “Because I didn’t say that for you. I said it for me. And it has nothing to do with what you expected, or what I expected, or what makes sense. Or what might be considered good. It’s just...true. And it’s not for anyone but me. Not to make up for anything or to atone for someone else’s sins this is...this is what I feel. I’ve fallen in love with you, and I well know what that feels like, Zack.”

“How? After a week? Do you know how stupid that sounds?” he asked, shoving the shower door open and getting out, tugging a white towel off the rack.

“I’m never stupid,” she said. “I’m a lot of things. I’m a prude—well, maybe not now, but ask my friends, I always have been. I’m cautious. I’m a people pleaser. I work so hard to please my parents, to be everything Hannah isn’t and achieve some vague idea of success that I don’t even know what I want anymore. So yeah, I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid I said...I said you can’t...Grace you can’t possibly love me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he said, turning sharply to face her, “I can’t love you.”

“What you can and can’t do has nothing to do with me,” she said, trying to ignore the stab of pain in her chest. “It has nothing to do with what I feel.”

“So I don’t have any choice in the matter?”

“No. I’m in love with you. End of discussion. I didn’t ask for anything—” she shut the water off and stepped out “—and I won’t. But I love you. I’ve lived with a man, slept with him, shared closet space and a toothbrush cup with him, and it wasn’t this. It wasn’t like he’d taken up residence in my chest. I know that you can be with someone for a long time and not feel this. That time has nothing to do with it, that...sense has nothing to do with it. If reason had a part to play in love...I would have loved damn David. But I didn’t. I love you, you jerk.”

“I can’t,” he said, his words broken. He crossed the room and cupped her face his hold tight, his eyes intense on hers. “I just think...It’s like my whole chest is scooped out, Grace. I can’t give you move than this. I can’t give you what a man should give you when you say things like that to him. I’m like...I’m just like one of my statues. A bad one. One that doesn’t feel anything or mean anything.”

“Your statue isn’t bad,” she said. “It’s just not finished. What do you need to be finished, Zack? How can I make you whole?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his hold tightening. “I think I might be dead inside.”

She put her hands on his face. “I wish I could figure out how to make you live.”

“Just touch me,” he said, his voice rough.

“I can do better than that.”

“Can you?” he asked, a note of desperation wrapped around his words.

She took a deep, shaking breath, her eyes never leaving his. She felt everything, every change wrought in her body from the moment she’d met him. And she didn’t want safe, or prim. She wasn’t the woman she’d been when she got in that cab, angry and unable to express it for fear of shocking or making waves.

She wouldn’t be silent now. She wouldn’t keep it inside.

“What if I fuck you?” she asked, the words hard, unfamiliar on her lips. But wonderful.

He growled low in his throat and gripped her hair, tugging her head back, pain shooting through her scalp, sending lightning bolts of sensation along her skin. His lips crashed down on hers. Taking. Taking everything she’d offered. Selfishly. Angrily. And she didn’t care. She took it all. All the rage. All the sadness. All that emptiness he had, she filled. She poured herself into him. Her feelings. Her love.

Because this was her first time. Feeling this. Wanting this. She wasn’t drained. She was full to bursting and she could do nothing but give to him.

His kiss was rough, his teeth biting into her lip, his hold tight on her hair, his arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her tugged up against him. She could taste his desperation, his grief. His pain. He shifted and lifted her feet off the ground.

He was so much stronger than she was. So much bigger. Physically, he had every advantage, but emotionally, she could tell he was on the verge of breaking.

That in that way, she was the one with the power to destroy, and the power to survive.

But just like she trusted his strength, trusted he wouldn’t use it against her, or hurt her in any way, she had to let him have the ability to trust her, too.