Breaking His Rules Read online

  “It’s okay. You didn’t force me to do anything.” I picked up my own clothes and began dressing. I could still smell him on me, his fresh mix of soap and whiskey.

  “No, but I shouldn’t have even done this. I just don’t know what I’m doing these days…” His voice trailed off.

  I wanted to admit I had no idea what I was doing, either, but I kept that part to myself. No sense in starting a confessional. “Here,” I said, handing him his tie once I had my pants back on.

  “Thank you,” he said. Ashton walked over to me and took it from me, then picked up his shirt with his tie and strung it around his neck.

  “And listen, Ash…We don’t have to play these types of games. I’m a big girl. You’re a grown man. If we just want to keep it casual, that’s fine. You can stop gassing me up. The occasional hookup doesn’t have to be unpleasant, right?” I tried as hard as I could to let him off the hook, since obviously he needed to hear it straight. He didn’t seem to be the man for subtle innuendo.

  For a moment, his eyes clouded over with something akin to surprise before softening. “Yeah, I’ve got it, Terra. Keep it light.”

  “I need to go see who that is for me downstairs.”

  “Do I need to hide or something? I really don’t want to get you into trouble.”

  “Ash, where exactly would you hide your tall ass?”

  He laughed, taking a break from the serious guy who’d only recently shown up. “I do like when you call me that,” he said.

  “No, you don’t need to hide. In fact, go ahead and get dressed. Come down when you’re done.” I gave him a smile to reassure him that everything would be okay. The thought ran through my mind about his impression of Ivy and whether he thought it was a place for random hook-ups, but I pushed that from my mind. It honestly didn’t matter what he thought. You care…Dammit, you care, even if you don’t want to. Even if it would hurt too much. I didn’t know where those thoughts were coming from. Perhaps just the use of muscles I’d nearly forgotten I had? Or even just curiosity about the unknown? Either way, I would have to stay the course and somehow prevent Ashton from popping up at my club, my house, and in my life once I did figure it out.

  I pulled my sweater down, smoothing it into my pants, and fluffed my hair. No sense in looking like I’d been freshly done, even though that was probably exactly how I looked. There was no time to go freshen up in the bathroom or even to take a quick glance at myself in the mirror. I needed to get Marcus out of there before Ashton was done dressing if possible. No sense having his last thought of me be a bad one.

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” I said, darting out of there before he could even say anything.

  I was down the stairs in a flash and found an annoyed-looking Brice squared off and tight with frustration, staring at a trashy-looking version of the man I’d once loved. Marcus had on his normal flashy clothes, but somehow he made them look cheap and nasty. His mouth was moving with an unnatural twitch and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets as if he was looking for something in there. Instinct told me he was probably hiding a bad case of the shakes.

  “Thanks, Brice,” I said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

  “You’re welcome,” he growled, but didn’t move a muscle. He just stood there, watching Marcus like he was fresh game and Brice was a lion.

  I looked at him, his already dark brown skin darker in all the places that told of drug use. “What is it, Marcus?” I asked, the sigh coming out with the words. I wouldn’t have been able to disguise my animosity toward the man if I tried. And to think I’d once loved him with everything inside me. Another reason I still didn’t quite trust my judgment when it came to men.

  “You know what it is. I need my money,” he croaked out in a raspy voice.

  “I already gave you money last week. You know the schedule.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “I’m sorry. I cannot give you any more,” I snapped.

  His hands came out of his pocket and balled into fists. Ashen flesh on his dark knuckles let me know he hadn’t been bathing. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d pushed me, slapped me…Hell, one day before I’d left him he’d punched me in the jaw.

  Since then, I had a permit to carry a concealed weapon, but the gun was in my purse all the way up in my office. I knew I didn’t need it, though. Brice would do grave bodily harm to the man if he touched me, and something told me it would be light work.

  “You can. You can give me more if you wanted to,” he said, taking a step toward me.

  Brice was in front of me in seconds, his own fists balled up and resembling mallets, they were so big. “That’s enough, man,” he said. “She said she’s not giving it to you. Now you can go on home or back to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”

  Marcus’s eyes roamed over Brice, as if he was wondering whether he could take him. He must have thought better of it, because he backed down. “Terra, I’ll be back. You ain’t gonna get out of this. You owe me more money. In fact, my lawyer already talked to the judge and we should get an answer back any day now.”

  “And if she deems it appropriate, I will happily oblige. But until then, you have a good day,” I said.

  Marcus turned around and stormed out, knocking down the stack of happy hour drink special menus that were stacked on the hostess stand. The papers rained down like confetti as his frail frame disappeared through the door.

  “Thanks, Brice,” I whispered.

  “Anytime,” he said. He turned around to face me, but his eyes went to somewhere behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see what he was staring at. Of course, it was Ashton, standing on the staircase. The look on his face said he’d seen a lot. Maybe he’d seen all of it. Which was the exact thing I hadn’t wanted.

  “Excuse me, Terra. I’ve got some more orders to put in for the renovations.” Brice brushed past me after his lie. I knew he’d already finished them. He was probably also finished stocking the liquor delivery, but I respected his desire to give me some privacy to clean up my mess.

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do, considering his smile was gone and he was staring at me as if he didn’t even know me. Preemptive. That’s always the best. “Well, you look all set,” I said with a wave of my hand.

  “Who was that?” Ashton asked, descending the final two stairs before heading toward me.

  “No one. Just…” I shook my head, unsure of how to broach the subject of my ex-husband.

  “He didn’t seem like no one. He was more like someone who knows you pretty well.”

  “It’s…It’s not really your business. He’s just a guy who…He’s no one. Like I said,” I said. No way was I getting into that messy section of my life. It was best left unsaid. Untouched. “Wow, look at the time,” I continued. From nowhere. I didn’t really care to dive in. It would have only served to blow up in my face. And I knew it. Ashton wasn’t the type of guy who liked details. He liked what I’d just given him upstairs. And before. A carefree, breezy woman who he didn’t have to think about anymore after he got what he wanted. All that was fine by me, since Marcus was more than enough of a reminder to keep it that way. Unattached.

  “Oh yeah. That’s my cue, right? Time to hit the road?” He stood in front of me, his shoulders tense and jaw set. He looked just like he had on Friday morning. In the kitchen, he’d been all bent out of shape for no good reason. That dude was back. I would say I didn’t like that version, but that kiss had been…something else.

  “I’m just thinking about the snow. It can’t be any better on the roads,” I said, turning to the windows, which made it possible to see outside without folks seeing in. The snow was coming down in big, fluffy flakes that would stick to the roads and make them considerably slick. It wasn’t a good night for anything other than staying inside in front of a fire with a hot c
up of tea. For Ashton, or Ash as I’d taken to calling him, that was probably something he wouldn’t do. He would probably use a stormy night to line up his next sure thing. Most likely.

  “Probably not. But I’m thinking about you right now. Will your car be good on the roads? Do you need a ride home when you’re done? I could wait—”

  “Nope,” I cut him off. “I have snow tires on it. It doesn’t shift into four-wheel drive, but as long as I drive like I have some sense, it’ll be okay.”

  “I see,” he said. His demeanor had shifted from his standard jovial and flirty to cold and standoffish.

  Shit, I understood. I was blowing hot and cold. I wanted to tell him that he was dangerous. That I didn’t have enough strength to protect my heart from the likes of him. He was too much for me, too fast. If I didn’t push him away, I would be all in. And that I couldn’t stand another round of devastation. I couldn’t rebound. But that would be too much like opening a wound. So he’d have to understand without the details. It was probably better for him, too. No sense in him feeling guilty over something he didn’t sign up for. I was a mess and he was carefree. I couldn’t give him the disconnection that he seemed to thrive on. And that was as honest as I could be…with myself.

  “Okay. Well, thank you for a lovely afternoon. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, though. Casually, as you said.”

  I surveyed him, his tall muscular body and his charming good looks. He may as well have been the devil himself, because that’s what he’d turn out to be for me. “Maybe we will…You know where I work and live now. Stop by the bar anytime. I work most nights.”

  “All right then,” he said. When he stepped forward, I took two steps back. No way was I going to allow him to crush me against him, to smell his scent, to feel his touch. It had devastated me earlier, and now, with all that had happened for the second time, I didn’t know how much more I could stand.

  “Good night, Ash,” I said, more sternly than before. Yes, it was unfair to him, but I couldn’t bear being broken.

  “Good night, Terra.”

  He sidestepped me and made his way to the door. Thankfully, we hadn’t relocked it after Marcus left. I wouldn’t have made it if I stood next to him. When the door slammed shut, I wasn’t sure if it was Ash or the winter winds blowing the thing closed. I slowly made my way over to it, feeling like my heart was being wound up on a string, tighter and tighter. I shouldn’t have felt a thing. I hadn’t even known him two full weeks yet.

  I twisted the two locks to engage them and stepped back, staring at the large black door and trying to imagine Ash walking away. He was mad. He had been taken aback. But that couldn’t be helped.

  It was high time I tried taking care of myself first. I needed to accept what we had was merely sex. It felt good, great even, for the entire time, but that was it. So why then did I feel like someone had punched me in the stomach?

  Probably because I wasn’t wired that way. For all my piss and vinegar, I was programmed to believe in people. To always hope for the best. As I turned away and headed to the back to help Brice with whatever the hell he needed, I pushed those feelings down and prayed that in time, I would forget all the momentary bliss I’d enjoyed for the last couple of days.

  All that was, apparently, more than some people could have.

  Chapter 11

  Ashton

  Dammit to hell…

  That night, I’d had a dream. Really it was closer to a nightmare. Over and over again Terra had said no. Three times, to be exact. First, after I’d suggested having sex in the loo. Then when I asked her on a second date. And finally she’d tossed me out into the snow like I was garbage. In the dream—rather, the nightmare—she hurled the word no at everything, then the bloody things took on physical form and she used them to bop me over the head.

  Yet the dream couldn’t compare with the look in her eyes when she’d practically kicked me out of the club. It was as if she was afraid of me. Like I would hurt her. That was the very last thing on my mind. Fuck me, but I liked her. She had been right. It needed to stay casual, especially since I had never been able to do more in the past. This time was no reason to be different.

  Fuck.

  Tuesday morning the cold wind hitting the window outside and one look out at the not-so-winter wonderland did it for me. I called in, leaving a voicemail on the boss’s cell, and went back to bed. Worse than a hangover. And who was that little shit demanding money from her? Perhaps she was right. Maybe I should have been running the other way. Then why did I resist leaving? Each time, I hated to go.

  Instead of working on forgetting her, by 10 A.M. I could still smell her in the clothes I’d worn yesterday. She was like the worst kind of drug. One that seeped into your pores and left you inebriated for hours…days. She was like that time Gary and I did shrooms in Vegas—a night that went on and on forever.

  I’d lifted weights earlier in the morning and run a mile on the treadmill, down from my usual five or six. I’d even cleaned the apartment. I was on to writing versions of her name in longhand on a legal pad like a fifteen-year-old girl would for her current crush. But mine were slightly different from the fifteen-year old’s:

  Terra the Terrible

  Tornado Terra

  Terra-nosaurus Rex

  Who even does that?

  My text message alert went off at 6 P.M. to save me from myself. Gary was picking me up from my place at seven thirty. I think he’d insisted on giving me a ride—even though we’d agreed I’d meet him there—so I wouldn’t bail on him. I should be showered and dressed, and apparently he was not accepting my for-shit excuses about being sick. Following the initial text were several emojis of guns, saws, hammers, and finally a GIF of Freddy Krueger murdering someone in a style that could only be described as Kruegerist. Okay, I should really stop with the names.

  But Gary was a lifesaver. Maybe, just maybe, if I got out of the house and did something different, I would feel less emasculated. I should have texted him back to ask where we were going, but did I actually even care? Really?

  No.

  I most certainly did not give two shits where we were going. As long as I could forget about her for just a brief moment.

  I was on a track to going to her house and sitting on the front stoop like a puppy whose owners abandoned the thing. So sad. Infatuation is what it was.

  I wasn’t even sure if she was the one. I mean, maybe it was just that she had snipped my balls off and slipped them into her gigantic-ass purse.

  Fuck it. It was time to get dressed anyway. There were plenty of women who would love attention from me. Plenty.

  Okay, so I’d officially lost it.

  I climbed into my shower and turned on all six heads. It was the second time I’d done that since I met her. Not because I enjoyed it. It was quite the opposite. It seemed the sheer power of the shower heads hitting my most sensitive areas was the only thing that made me stop thinking of her.

  I stayed in an extra ten minutes. Guess what? I thought of her the whole damned time. The second time around was better than the first. Was that a song?

  Well, tough jubblies, Ashton.

  Bloody hell, even my subconscious voice sounded like her. But at least I’d come to one realization. Even if I saw her again, two people who were completely opposed to monogamy and relationships were better off as friends with benefits, or something more appropriate might have been fuck buddies. To be honest, I could live with that. Perhaps. I just hoped I wasn’t deluding myself.

  I decided to wear something devastating that makes women say things like He can really hang a suit, or I wonder if the carpet matches the drapes. To be fair, that last one was more of a man thing, but I was short on supply of the top ten things women said when they wanted to fuck a guy.

  I settled on a black slim-cut suit with a crisp dobby white shirt, no
tie. Ready to party. A part of me wondered if that’s what men wore to clubs, but most of me gave less than a fuck what men wore. It would be all about the ladies and securing one who would be so grateful to be on a date with this handsome devil in the mirror that she’d never, ever say no.

  Fuck that word.

  And it didn’t matter where we were going, who I would be with, or what my subconscious was doing to slowly kill me. I was going to have a good time and make the world my goddamned oyster.

  I stepped onto the street, the night air grating against my skin like it was made of steel wool. Detroit was so very cold on November nights. At least it’d stopped snowing and the streets were partially cleared. Fortunately, Gary was pulling up in his red Chrysler 300. The official car of the middle-aged semiprofessional who was still in touch with his swagger.

  I got in and promptly placed my seatbelt around me.

  “Want your ass heater on?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Suit yourself. You don’t look sick, by the way.”

  “Okay, so maybe turn the seat warmer on low. And yes, I’m quite sick actually. But you pay that no mind. By all means, discount the fact I was suffering from violent and exceedingly explosive diarrhea and trapped in the loo for the better part of the day.”

  Gary punched up the climate settings in the car and turned my ass heater on, as he had so eloquently put it, before pulling away from the curb of my condo. “Glad you live close to this club. If you’ve had anything coming out of you explosively, I’d rather you not be in my car for too long.”

  Gary was my one friend who bore a striking resemblance to Tony Soprano. Both physically and in mannerisms. He did have a little more hair, though. Lucky for him. “Well, it’s fine now. Thanks for that.”

  “Dude, I know you’re lying. You’ve been weird since yesterday. But whatevs. Do get your shit together, though, because…I think I—”

  “Oh my god, don’t say it.”