Breaking His Rules Page 3

  “Maybe I call it like I see it, too.”

  “Yeah,” she said. For a moment, her eyes glinted with something other than the light and amusing banter we’d fallen into. Damned if I didn’t know better, but for some reason, I really wanted to know why.

  “Yeah. But I’m not your type. Too young and skinny, I guess.” What the fuck? I glanced across at the mirror to make sure I hadn’t been transplanted into someone else’s body. Nope. Still me, such a stupid arse. She’s against the rules, I reminded myself once again. I needed it. There was no mistaking the warning signs.

  “Oh no, you don’t. I’m quite sure that’s the other way around, Blondie.”

  Right a-damn-gain. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m not anti–beautiful woman. I just—”

  “Listen, spare me the soliloquy. If you say that’s not you, then who am I to judge?”

  “It’s the god’s honest. I seriously just like having my life the way I want my life. And there are times when being in a relationship could be troublesome.” As if I had experience with that. I hadn’t been in a relationship ever. Not in college, not in my twenties, and my thirties were heading down the same path. So help me. The seventeen years of up close and personal with a poor sod dealing with the aftermath of a relationship was enough for me.

  She licked those lips again, her eyes lingering on the glass, then back to me. Her face was enough to make me think wings would sprout from her back. “Wanna get out of here?”

  That was perhaps the very last thing I expected her to say. A pair of giggling women wandered past us, and one of them flashed a wink at me from behind my impromptu date. Something I wouldn’t have noticed, except I was stalling for time.

  A part of me wanted to look down at my cock—nicknamed Ollie—and chastise it. The flirting. The inviting her to kick my ass. The drink purchases. Overlooking the sure, yet stringless, thing across the room, or one of the women who’d walked past, for that matter, for someone who was bound to be more trouble than I needed. They would all be ready to accept my meager offerings. Another fine mess you’ve gotten me into, Ollie. I still hadn’t answered her even though a few seconds had passed. My cock screamed, Fuck yes. I will get out of here and do whatever you want for as many hours as you need. My head, on the other hand, was way smarter and much more risk averse than Ollie. He was a dick, after all. I was a man who could spot a problem a mile away. This girl was…incredible. She was able to put me at ease—a figurative stroke on my cock and balls. Made me drop my guard to nonexistent. I was most certainly not down for that.

  “No. I don’t want to get out of here.” Fuck. Here comes the shit. “I want to get you in the loo, lock the door, and put my head between your thighs.” Who are you even, Ashton?

  “Well, that escalated quickly.”

  “It did.”

  I took a deep breath while holding her whiskey-colored gaze. Now that the words were out in the open, it was her turn to contemplate. Her eyes raked over me, as if she were sizing me up. The offer had been dirty, yet very serious on my part. I held my breath. Waiting. Waiting. She returned my gaze, want and need and lust between us filling the space.

  “No, thank you. I’m honestly not the type of woman who fucks in the bathroom.” Picking up her glass, she sucked every drop of her remaining drink in the long black straw that made me think of other things. “I’m going to walk out of here. I hope to find you behind me. I really do. But I’m not one of your usual girls. Unattached is fine, but the rest is a no for me, even if you are hot as hell.” And there was the smile that made the heavens open wide, pouring out the sound of an angel’s chorus.

  When she stood, I caught all that nearly six feet in her heels and curves that made me want to touch her everywhere. Slipping on a black fur jacket, she picked up her red bucket-style leather bag and swung it up to her shoulder. Then she slipped fifty bucks onto the table. “This is for the drinks. I’m not one to skimp out on returning a favor. Thanks for the save…in case I don’t see you again.”

  With that, she strutted, her sculpted body a sonnet as she moved toward the exit, out of the door.

  The second drink sat before me, the brown fluid even asking, along with my cock, what I was going to do. Picking up the glass, I gave the reliable one across the room another look. She was the safe option. The sure thing. She had everything on my checklist. And she’d taken notice of my faux girlfriend leaving, renewed interest in her eyes. The tinkling laughter around the room from the assorted groups made me think they knew I’d crashed and burned.

  Yes, do that instead. It’s easy. Sure, she’s not as interesting. Or as attractive. But she was bound to be all the things Terra had mentioned. Available. Unassuming. Innocuous.

  No, don’t do that, my cock cried out, as if the damned thing had actual lips.

  I downed the rest of my drink after breaking off the expectant look between me and Susan or Brenda or whatever her name would turn out to be. Fuck, I regretted my actions already. But hey, what’s life without a bit of a challenge?

  Chapter 2

  Terra

  “What are you even doing, girl?” I asked myself as I leaned back against the brown brick building I’d just left. I stared up into the early afternoon sky and pondered the thought while feeling the bitter cold and wind swirling through the streets. I hadn’t meant to ask him to my place. I hadn’t even wanted to continue the conversation after he helped me out of my little jam. But maybe it being my forty-first birthday today, divorced and now sole owner of my club were all getting to me. Night after night business was booming, people hooked up with randoms, and maybe I was feeling left out—whatever, this was all definitely having a weird effect on me.

  At least I hadn’t found myself in my friend’s restaurant with my pants around my ankles like some THOT. I for sure wasn’t that loose. Another blessing was that Gloria wasn’t there to see me acting so common and…loose. But something about that blond man was enough to make me take a leave of sanity. Thankfully, his preoccupation with desperate women would probably win out over someone with even the marginal standards I’d exhibited. Ugh, I’m regretting my poor behavior.

  I shouldn’t have been affronted by his suggestion, since I’d technically started it. Technically.

  I pulled my phone out again and opened my text messages to the ongoing chat between Gloria and me. She was my best friend and we shared everything. Most everything. Should I tell her I almost left with a stranger? Probably make her worry.

  I started the next text.

  Hey there. Had to ditch the date. 1st class asshole. 100. Heading home after almost falling victim to another guy with serious BDE.

  I waited. The three dots lighting up on my phone almost instantly told me she’d been waiting on my response.

  Wait…what? Big dick energy? Where?

  I couldn’t help but giggle.

  Girl! At your place. He was tall and blond and British. I didn’t even know we had that in the D. I’ll tell you more later.

  The dots started again almost immediately.

  Wait…It’s Sunday. I know him. Dazzling eyes and stylish? He’s been there a couple of times while I’ve done inventory. He…he likes the ladies. Still, I don’t know how you tangled with him and left with your panties intact.

  She knew him. So many questions ran through my mind. Like, was he a nice guy? Maybe when I was younger, I would have been concerned with other things. But today, right now, nice was a precious commodity. And was he always in such a good mood? Another rare trait that had suddenly become more desirable. Unlike my ex-husband.

  Yeah. Me, either. I’ll call you when I’m home. Taking a U-ride. Hugs.

  I took a deep breath and tucked my cell back into my jacket pocket, the cold wind of downtown Detroit stinging my lungs as it chilled me from the inside out. Grilling steaks underscored by the light scent of the Detroit River’s fresh water scented the air o
utside the bar. Waiting for a ride sucked. I should have driven my car. I should have known better than to let a blind date pick me up from my house. A well-timed Oh my god…I see my boyfriend here…was enough to get me out of that little situation. And apparently to jump right into another. I nearly threw my cookies at the man. Dammit, Terra.

  My phone vibrated, announcing the upgraded U-ride, a white Escalade driven by Raymond, had arrived. I stepped out from my somewhat hidden spot beside the restaurant, walked over to my waiting car, and went to grab the door handle.

  A hand came from behind me, landed squarely on the car door, and pushed it closed.

  “What the hell!” I yelled, taking the hand by the thumb and twisting. Then I shifted my body and planted my right foot behind me. Using the palm of my other hand, I rammed it. Hard and up into my assailant’s nose, just like they taught me in self-defense class. It was executed to perfection. I had no doubt crippled the guy, whose head flew back from the impact.

  Exactly like they taught me…except, I noticed that sweater. And his hair was so many colors of blond in the sunlight.

  “Owww, shit,” the assailant yelled, holding his hand to his nose with blood spilling between his fingers. When he hit the ground, his legs went into the air and he bumped his head against the concrete. That had to hurt.

  And the voice, an accent…that was British. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The realization dawned on me and I instantly reacted, going down to the ground to see if he was okay. I had just assaulted someone who had only been nice to me. Dammit. Maybe I did need to work on my trust issues. “I’m so sorry, Ashton.” I moved my hand to his arm and stroked because…because I had no idea what the hell else to do. They never taught me first aid for the damage inflicted on a would-be attacker. No one could ever accuse me of having it all together. I couldn’t even flirt without injuring someone.

  “I think you broke my nose,” he said in a very nasally tone.

  He was rolling around and I was kneeling beside him on the cracked pavement of the sidewalk stroking his arm. We must have looked insane.

  “Damn, baby. You didn’t have to do him like that, did you?” the U-ride driver yelled from the window.

  “It was a mistake. I thought he was attacking me.”

  “I wasn’t attacking. I was after your phone number,” he was nearly yelling, still rocking back and forth. “Christ!” Probably more of a reaction to the searing pain in his nostrils.

  “Well, do you still need a ride, miss?” The driver, Raymond, was gawking from the passenger window at the whole scene, and apparently bored.

  “No, I’m going to stay here to make sure he’s okay, if that’s all right with you.” I didn’t mean to bark, but his comments were so crass I couldn’t help it.

  “Suit yourself, lady. But you still get the cancellation fee.”

  “Fine, whatever,” I snapped.

  “No, don’t leave me with her. Take her. Please.” It was Ashton’s turn to snap. He sat up and glared, one hand still covering his leaky nose.

  “I really am sorry. I swear, had I known it was you I wouldn’t have.” I was honestly concerned over the injury, and even if I had to stoop on the cold sidewalk for the rest of the afternoon, I wasn’t leaving his side until I knew he was okay. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “No. I need another drink.” He went to stand and wobbled a bit. “I’ve never had my ass kicked so quickly before.”

  “What can I do?” I asked, bored with the apologies.

  “Nothing. I’m going to walk away now,” he said, stabilizing himself and holding his head back.

  He was a good three inches taller than I was, even in my highest heels. He looked so good, despite the bleeding that was finally slowing down. Even better than in the restaurant. He was muscular with a runner’s body to accompany that tall frame. The bright sun highlighted the blond variances in his hair, and his square chin with spectacular bone structure made him look like a model—with a busted nose. “Here, let me help you to your car,” I said. I honestly didn’t think he looked healthy. He seemed unsteady.

  “I’m fine, Terra. I can make it,” he snorted.

  “You don’t seem fine. You hit your head on the sidewalk.” I was trailing behind him and his coat that was billowing in the wind.

  “Sure, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you, but I didn’t think you would assault me.” He stopped walking and turned to face me.

  I sucked in a bit of air and ran my hand through my hair to tame some of the windblown curls. “I swear, I didn’t mean to. I was just caught up in my head and my instincts took over. Now, I’m not letting you leave here without knowing you’re okay. The last thing I need is to see your face plastered on the news tonight. I already have a witness that saw me put you down.”

  “Hey,” he snapped, now fully facing me. He was holding his nose with one hand and the bleeding appeared to be slowing. “I was off guard. I slipped. I don’t think you actually put me down.”

  “Details. But I mean it. I need to know you’re okay. How many fingers am I holding up?” I held two in the air and waved them while simultaneously moving closer to him. Damn, he smelled good. I noticed it first when he was at the table with me, then again on the ground. Now, with the wind so high, his scent washed over me. Almond and sandalwood notes carried on the breeze and hit me straight in the ovaries.

  “Two. Two bloody fingers. May I go now?”

  “I just…I feel so bad. Listen, I don’t live far. Come back to my house and let me help you with your nosebleed. I’ll feel better, you’ll feel better, then you can leave. Scout’s honor.”

  He seemed to halt for a moment. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he held it to his nose. I didn’t know any men who still carried them. Interesting.

  Three men heading into Soar took one look at him, then another at me. “You okay, miss?” the bald guy closest to Ashton asked, staring straight at me, but pointing a finger in Ashton’s direction.

  “I’m the one you should be asking. This woman is a menace,” Ashton said.

  The guys laughed collectively, all the tension in the earlier question deflating as they shook their heads. “Yeah,” the guy with the question replied. “Most women are.” They kept laughing and headed into the restaurant.

  “Okay, now that you’ve besmirched my good name, will you let me drive you to my house?” I was practically pleading.

  “Fine. But I am okay. And I hope you have liquor. I need a stiff shot after all this.”

  “Okay, and I promise not to hit you again.” I raised my hand with the Scout’s pledge once more, so he knew it was on the up-and-up. I had no plans to attack again.

  “Well…” he said, seeming to think of some advantage to my request. “You have to give me your phone number. It’s the least you could do.”

  Still holding up the pledge, “Deal, as long as you agree to go to the doctor if you exhibit signs of a concussion.”

  “Deal.” We nearly shook hands, but he held it out and immediately pulled it back and waved blood-covered fingers at me. “Better not. Blood is somewhat messy,” he said.

  By the time we got to his car, parked about two blocks away, which was typical of brunch time in downtown Detroit, the bleeding had slowed significantly. But I insisted on driving and he reluctantly handed over keys to a gleaming white Mercedes S-Class. “I won’t break your car,” I said as I grabbed the keys from him.

  “You probably broke my nose, so forgive me if the trust isn’t one hundred percent there.”

  We got in and I sat behind the wheel, moving the seat forward a few inches to accommodate our height difference. He was leaning his head back on the seat in a move that most assuredly let me know more was injured than his ego. “I just have to text my friend to let her know I’m not coming over to her place,” I explained, lying, but a girl could never be too safe in the big city.
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  “Um-hmm,” he murmured.

  I pulled my phone from my jacket and opened the previous text to Gloria.

  Change of plan. I almost knocked him out. I need to take him back to my place. And not for sextinis.

  The text dots went off instantly and I left the message open, laying the phone on my lap while I adjusted mirrors and fastened my seatbelt.

  Girl, you cannot be serious. What were you trying to do? Knock the BDE out of him? If you wanted him to come back to your place, you should have just asked. So dramatic…

  I chortled and tapped one last text before taking off.

  You would have been proud of my defensive form, tho…Call you later.

  I closed my phone and took off. I lived only about six miles from Soar, off East Jefferson overlooking the Detroit River, thankfully. My hope was to get him to my place, patch him up, and send him on his way. I hadn’t forgotten Gloria’s earlier comment that he was a ladies’ man. While I wasn’t into relationships, I didn’t want someone who was a few women away from having a black belt in whore-ology. I just wanted to go on a date every now and then. Maybe get to friends with benefits. It had been close to four years since I’d had sex, just a year longer than I’d been divorced. While I loved my vibrator, I didn’t love it that much.

  It should have been easy to find a guy to fill my dance card, but there was a huge divide between when I was single at twenty and being single nowadays. I didn’t even recognize the dating scene. Most men I’d met were either married or narcissists. And then there was this guy, who couldn’t even fit into one of those slots yet since all I knew of him was that he was somewhat of a gentleman based on how he’d rescued me earlier and that his blood was bright red.

  We pulled onto the street of my condo, new construction replacing or converting old warehouses along the Detroit riverfront. On a bright Sunday afternoon, there were enough pedestrians to notice a tall blond man with a bloodied nose. I pulled up to the parking gate and hit the buzzer, ignoring the looks from folks walking past the car. In my gut, I wished this was a car with darkened windows so my neighbors didn’t get the wrong impression. The newer Detroit residents weren’t exactly the types who understood bruises and fighting. They were from old money and moving into neighborhoods that were glossed up to remove signs of wear and tear, otherwise known as “the struggle” from their cultured sights.