Breaking His Rules Page 6

  And there he was. He looked so good that every part of me that was female liquefied in that moment. Something about a man in a well-cut suit made my knees weak. He wore an all-black one with a crisp white shirt and no tie. The top button was undone and a red pocket square was intricately tucked into his breast pocket, adding a fresh pop of color.

  “How’d I know you were going to wear red?” A particularly devilish grin spread across his face as his eyes moved from top to bottom.

  “Psychic?” I breathed the answer because in all honesty, I had no wind left in my lungs.

  “We prefer clairvoyant. Oh, and do add the flower in your hair. I think that’s the only thing in the entire world that dress needs.”

  I stared at the thing I’d forgotten to leave in the bathroom. It was a brilliant rose attached to a comb that I’d planned to wear on the side of my faux hawk. I raised it to my already big hair and tucked it in. “Not too much?” God. I was never the type of woman to fuss over my attire, but I hadn’t tried to pull off sexy in a long, long while.

  “Dear Lord, no. You look…you look positively stunning,” he said.

  Ashton ran his hands up my arms with gentle fingertips brushing over my flesh, then moved on to my hair and gently pushed in the rose accessory more securely before taking a couple of loose curls and pushing them behind my ears. After another moment, he ran his eyes over me once more and kneeled. I watched as he took the straps and fastened my shoes, one at a time, his fingertips lingering on naked flesh. When he was done, his fingertips grazed the sides of my calves, sending tremors through my body that landed at my core. Heat flamed over my face and chest as I stepped backward for fear I would combust under his touch. When he was back upright, he squared his shoulders, smiled, then ran a hand through his own hair. And oh, what a wicked smile it was.

  “Shall we go, gorgeous?”

  “Oh yes, we shall,” I replied, and let out the breath I had no idea I’d been holding.

  Chapter 5

  Ashton

  Mauricio’s was practically bursting at the seams. It had always been a popular place on Thursday evenings, one of the biggest hang-out nights in the Motor City. Thankfully, Gary, my friend from work, came often enough to have an in with the owner and the manager. Mauricio had brought his own mother over to the restaurant from Cuba to show all the cooks her signature recipes. It was a closely built, lively place with hardly any room between the tables and heavenly scents that made a person struggle with deciding what exactly to order, because it all looked and smelled so good.

  That night with Terra was no exception. By the time we arrived, the band was warmed up and playing Afro-Cuban tunes that positively transported patrons to the streets of Havana. Terra’s eyes litup the moment she stepped into the room.

  “You’ve never been here before?” I asked her the question, but it may as well have been rhetorical. Her expression told me she liked the place. Her eyes were wide as she took in the entire tapestry of the restaurant with its brightly lit walls and brick flooring. The waitstaff wore traditional Cuban dress and the menus were even in Spanish. Mauricio’s was nothing if not authentic.

  “No, I didn’t even know it was here. And I thought I knew all the restaurant owners in Detroit.”

  “Oh really?”

  For a moment, something passed through her eyes, but it was fleeting. “Yeah, we um…host the bar-owners association at work and a lot of the owners are technically restauranteurs.”

  “I see. Well, I’m glad I could show you something new tonight.” Just then, the hostess returned after speaking with her manager and motioned for us to follow her.

  I slid my hand around Terra’s forearm and guided her through the throngs of customers. Salsa music was about to start, since it was already after seven, and it was easy to get swept into the crowd in all the excitement. To tell the truth, I just wanted to touch her again.

  The moment I did, her soft skin forced an image into my brain of her lying beneath me, legs wrapped around my waist as I sank all the way inside her. It was nearly obscene, the things I wanted to do to her. As hard as I tried to forget about her funny laugh, her delightful scent, and oh yes, the feel of her skin beneath my fingertips, the more I imagined all the things we could do together.

  I’d even broken one of my rules with a full-on date. I’d gotten dressed up, which I never did for women. Rule number 17 of my unending rule book: Don’t give the appearance of exclusivity. Taking a woman out on the town on an official date night said a few things about a guy’s intent. It was moving the woman into wifey zone, which couldn’t have been further from where I wanted to be.

  “Here you are, Mr. Lyle,” the hostess, a sprite of a woman with heels so high her feet looked inverted, said as she seated us near the center of the restaurant, one of the best tables in the house. It was steps from the dance floor, far enough away from the band that you didn’t have to yell to speak to each other, but not far enough that you couldn’t get to the famed salsa instructor Pablo Diaz. He was an exclusive addition to Mauricio’s and made the establishment an extremely popular place among locals and tourists alike.

  I nodded to the hostess, who began placing bread and water onto the table. Walking around Terra, I touched her once more on the shoulder before pulling her chair out for her to sit. I knew she was most likely extremely feminist based on previous conversations—okay, one previous conversation—but I hoped pulling out her chair wouldn’t set off her sensibilities.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking up at me with bright eyes and ruby red lips that practically begged me to kiss her. I had to fight to take my eyes off her.

  “My pleasure, believe me. I promise, you think you love this place for the atmosphere,” I said, taking my seat directly across from her, “but the food is what will make you fall in crazy, stupid love. Trust me.”

  I handed her one of the menus the hostess left in front of me and immediately began looking for my favorite dish. Every now and then, the menu was changed. It didn’t matter, though. All the food was magnificent. But there it was, ropa vieja, and I let out a relieved sigh. The beef and vegetable stew was one of the national dishes of Cuba. “All right, what are you having, Terra?” I said, folding the menu into its original trifold position.

  “Wow, that was fast. And what is rope…ropa vieja? It says ‘old clothes’ on the menu.”

  “Oh, that’s just a cultural name for the dish. It’s a stew that warms the bones and wakes your taste buds. I promise, it doesn’t taste anything like an old sweater.”

  Terra smirked at the joke. “Smartass. I knew it didn’t taste like dirty laundry,” she replied. Just then, she popped one of my hands with the menu. “Serves you right,” she said when I responded with as much shock as I could muster. Which wasn’t much, since I couldn’t be mad at someone with a smile like that.

  “Fine, no more jokes, at least until we leave. Trust me, it’ll be quiet at our table once dinner arrives. It’s so good it’ll even shut someone like you up, Chatty Patty.”

  Terra looked at me and licked her lips the way she seemed to anytime she was challenged. “Chatty Patty, huh? I can be that. Oh, and you have to take me dancing. I love to salsa.”

  “Do you now? Can you keep up?”

  Terra reached across the table again and rested her hand on mine with another tap, as if consoling me. “You poor, poor man. I hope you brought your dancing shoes tonight. It takes a lot to tucker me out.”

  I let the words wash over me for a moment, dirty thoughts of all the things I could do to her, and with her, flitting about my mind like fireflies on a summer night. “I’ll have to find out about that later.”

  “You have a filthy mind, Ashton.” She pushed a wayward hair behind her ear the way I’d done earlier.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  She ordered paella marinera, but still ate some of mine. I don’t k
now which she liked better, the entrées or the Cuban pepper salad we had as an appetizer. I thought she would be too full to move, but we ended up dancing until both of us had a sheen of sweat, smiles on our faces, and the type of energy that only comes even from the rhythmic foreplay that accompanies the Latin roots of salsa. I was mesmerized, and quickly regretting my decision to take her out. She made it too hard to walk away.

  As I watched her spin for a moment, out on the floor then back to me, I was lost in her movement, in her style. The swivel of her hips, the free shimmy of her shoulders, everything about her was captivating. When she swayed back over to me, I reached for her, grabbing her hand and spinning her so the slits of her dress, bless the designer, exposed statuesque legs. Pulling her into my body, I slid a hand on her thigh, and, as if instinctively, she raised her leg to my waist and leaned in.

  The scent of her filled me, her perfume mingled with her natural womanly scent, and I could have been purchased for a mere nickel. I was lost in her if only for a moment.

  Once our bodies connected, I moved my other hand to her waist and pulled her close. We stood there for a moment. Our eyes were locked, her arms around my waist, and I was nearly panting. The only thing I needed in that moment, as if my life depended on it, was to kiss her.

  But she moved away, taunting me with her tight ass and cool elegance.

  I went after her, the 100 percent red-blooded man sensing the need to chase her, a purely primal reaction. Grabbing one of her arms, I turned her in my direction and seized her, pressing my mouth onto hers, and for a moment, surely I died and went to heaven. A cataclysmic energy pulse ripped through me, rattling my body, and all the things that made me a man came to life and demanded that I take her soul into mine.

  Fuck yeah, it was over the top, but in that one kiss, I knew I had to claim her, if only for one night.

  Chapter 6

  Terra

  I’m not sure how long it took us to pay the bill and hustle outside, but it was hours too long. Outside the restaurant, where patrons were waiting to go inside, we put on a show while waiting for the valet to bring Ashton’s car. He kissed me once more, and as our lips met my world tilted. There was something magnificent in his touch, in the way he whispered my name as he moved lower and nibbled on my neck.

  Cool rain pelted us and it was that, not the threat of people seeing our PDA, that drove us into his car. He closed me inside, trotted around to the driver’s side, and quickly got inside. Sliding his seat back a little, he leaned toward me and leisurely ran his hand along my forearm. “How can you make me behave in such a manner, Terra?”

  In all honesty, I was thinking along those same lines. “I’m not sure I’m the most qualified person to answer that question, since I’ve only just met you and we made out on the dance floor. I guess sometimes we just go—”

  “—with it,” he said, finishing my sentence.

  Ashton leaned closer, his lids low and jaw clenched, as if he were physically restraining himself. I could understand that restraint. I even respected it, since I was battling the same type of control issue. Reckless abandon was as foreign to me as having a cock, but like the latter, I craved it. I wanted to lose myself for a while, in someone who was random and safe. Ashton, from everything I knew of him, was most likely into the moment. I wanted to be, too. If only for a while. Just for tonight.

  My traitorous body gleefully responded and leaned toward him. I hadn’t expected him to lace his fingers through my hair and pull, guiding my mouth to his; nor had I anticipated the peppermint taste tinged with bourbon on his tongue as he destroyed me with a single kiss. I pressed into him, drawn to the sweet taste combined with the powerful hand in my hair and masterful tongue that I wanted all over me.

  He stopped for a moment and looked at me, his eyes filled with something…lust, or perhaps surprise. But whatever it was, he must have liked it, because he pulled my head forward once again, his lips crashing against mine. I let him in, exploring each other in the front seat of the car, despite being in front of a crowded club. His fingers moved down my neck to my shoulders and finally under my arms and around my back, securing me.

  I’d always been warned about great kissers. And he was the best I ever had. Instinctively, I knew he’d been with millions of women in order to make me feel like that. I needed to think in those terms to keep it all straight. For I knew he was addictive the moment I took his head in my hands, our lips almost bruising we kissed so hard.

  By the time we broke it off, I felt like I’d been thoroughly and soundly had right there in the front seat. I glanced around to find fog on the windshield. How long had we been at it exactly, I had no clue, but we were panting hard like we’d both forgotten to breathe. I know I had, at least.

  “I wonder how fast I can get to your condo?” Straightening himself in his seat, he buckled his seatbelt, then gripped the wheel with one hand while simultaneously throwing the car into gear. But the streets were packed with Friday-eve, otherwise known as Thursday night, parties.

  “If you don’t take Jefferson and use a shortcut, we can be there in about ten minutes,” I replied. I wasn’t even sure I could make it that long.

  He took off so fast I’m not even sure whether he checked for cars as he pulled out. “I have many, many things planned for you when we get there, Terra.”

  For a moment, I was shocked by the greedy way he said my name. The possessiveness in his voice seeming like he wanted me to be his. It was territorial, almost. I reminded myself that it wouldn’t be for long since, well, we were both adults. Whatever would be, would be. I liked him, for tonight, and I assumed he felt the same. I certainly wasn’t going to dwell on it, since for the first time in oh-so-long I felt amazing.

  The warmth of his hand on my thigh only added to the agonizing wait to get to my place. The stops and starts of traffic allowed him an opportunity to stroke up and down my leg. He was for sure too young for me. He was also too much for me. One big-ass, dangerous risk. All the thoughts had no effect on the raging hormones going on deep inside.

  All manner of erotic thoughts ran across my mind as I continually imagined the birthday sex I was about to get. Sure, my birthday was over, but it’s never too late for gifts.

  Briefly, I contemplated whether he’d live up to all the hype, maybe in a lame attempt to stave off some of the excitement. Yet, someone who kissed and spoke in that manner was no amateur. We’d been quiet most of the way, with the exception of my GPS navigation–style breaks, both caught up in our own thoughts. I had no idea what he was thinking but imagined it was excuses to break out of my house immediately following the hook up. Just as well, I cautioned myself. Just as well.

  “See, I’m an expert at getting around Detroit on busy nights,” I said, as we drew closer to my row-house condo. “Pull around the side. There’s garages around back. If you pull up to the gate, I’ll punch in my code.” The last thing I needed was someone I hardly knew getting my code. It was bad enough Marcus had it. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I should tell him about my ex, in case he showed up. But I pushed the thought from my mind just a quickly as it barged in. Marcus was busy with his next score. He wouldn’t be back until he needed more money. Typical.

  “You’re the boss,” was all he said. He followed my directions and I leaned over him to enter the code, my breast grazing his hard chest. The ripples came back, nearly causing a shudder.

  We pulled around the corner and I slid my garage opener from my purse. Ashton drove into the empty parking space next to my Hellcat, a birthday gift that I couldn’t stop looking at. It was the first thing I’d done for myself in a long time. And I was about to do another.

  “So, what exactly do you do at Club Ivy?” he asked. Once again.

  Okay, so I hadn’t told him I was the bar owner, but that was my business. “Oh, you know, hostess, bartender. Anything that needs to get done. I thought I told you all this alr
eady,” I kind of lied. Just a little.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, undoing his seatbelt. I did the same and got out of the car, my legs trembling from desire. I tried my hardest unaffected walk to the back door and unlocked the thing. Before I could turn around, he was behind me again, his hand around my waist and kissing me up the side of my neck. “I want you so bad, Terra.”

  “I’m aware,” I said, laughing and dropping my keys and purse on the floor of the hallway. Spinning myself in his arms, I pressed into him and caught his exquisite mouth for another of those kisses. I was genuinely surprised we’d even made it to my house, because if he would have asked, I would have taken him up on pulling behind a building. I was wholly consumed with him being inside me, touching me everywhere.

  His fingers made quick work of sliding the straps of the slip of a dress from my shoulders. Warm hands maneuvered to the strapless bra clasps and unhooked them before he broke off yet another too-passionate kiss and slipped my dress off. My bra was next, already undone, free-falling onto the pile of red satin at my feet. “Oh my god, you are sexy as hell. I mean, really,” he said.

  “Catch up to me, Ashton,” I demanded. I grabbed at the lapels of his jacket and yanked it downward before releasing.

  My breasts and core ached to feel his hands and body once more. Stripping off his fine black jacket and shirt, I saw his hard, ripped chest and abs. Immediately I became self-conscience standing there in nothing but my panties. He was too stunning to be believed.

  After he opened his pants, he stopped. Seizing me in another deep kiss, he bit my lower lip and growled, “I want you on a bed, Terra. Where is it?”