Breaking All Her Rules. Maisey Yates

eyes clashed with his, a hard sock of heat hitting his gut.

      “What else?” he asked.

      She looked away. “If I don’t date I think it’s pretty obvious what else I’m not doing.”

      Oh, yes, he was well familiar with that problem. He hadn’t gotten laid in so long he was afraid his long uprooted virginity was starting to grow back. If such a thing was possible. He hadn’t seen sex since his twenties, and sitting where he was at thirty-five that seemed damn sad.

      He’d had a lot more than getting some on his mind, though, but now...now it seemed like maybe he needed to do something about it. Maybe it was time to let another person touch him. Not a handshake or anything, but hands on naked skin. On skin that was normally covered by clothes.

      He hadn’t been tempted to connect in so long. He’d been avoiding it. He’d been too raw. But everything had scarred over now. Had come out tougher than he’d started. It would never heal, but he wasn’t vulnerable anymore. He doubted he possessed the ability to be hurt at this point, to feel loss.

      He’d maxed out that garbage a while ago.

      “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. Affected. “Obvious.”

      “I guess maybe not because some people just...I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. You officially know more of my baggage than my best friend, who I haven’t talked to in four months because I’m an unhappy, terrible workaholic, and she’s just as bad.”

      “Well, you’re in my hotel room, I’m half-dressed.... It seems logical really.”

      “My phone?” she asked.

      “Oh, yeah.” That was why she was here. Her phone. The one on his bed. He’d completely forgotten. It hadn’t seemed to matter.

      “Yeah,” she said, her eyes wide. “I kind of forgot. About my phone. Which I never do, because I’m addicted to using my phone. How sad is that? I am addicted to my phone. To keeping plugged into my office when I’m not there. Sometimes I get so caught up in work email during dinner that I forget to pay attention to the show on my DVR. So I record shows, because I’m too busy to watch them when they come on, then I put them on and I ignore them! I am a mess.”

      “You really are.”

      “I need to relax.”

      “I agree.”

      “Do you know what I need?” she asked, her small breasts rising and falling with the sharp pitch of her breathing.

      “What?” he asked, his stomach tightening.

      “I just need to relax.”

      “I agree.”

      “I need...” Her eyes had dropped back down to his chest. “I need to...make a decision instead of just flying under the radar. I think I need to cut loose.” Her eyes met his again. “Got any ideas?”

      “I do. But I’m a stranger and I’m pretty sure none of the ideas I have are appropriate for strangers.”

      “We shared a cab,” she said, a desperate light in her dark gaze now.

      “Well, then, I guess that changes things. Kiss me.”

      Chapter Four

      Grace thought she might pass out. All of the blood drained out of her head and pooled in her feet, her lips cold, her brain fuzzy.

      Her skin was chilled, but inside she was burning up.

      She didn’t know what she was doing. She’d led the conversation here, that was undeniable. She’d been baiting him. Baiting this sexy stranger so that she could see just what he might do. So that she could...what, exactly, she didn’t know.

      Well, now it had culminated in a request—no, a demand—for a kiss.

      His eyes were burning, golden fire, and she could feel it streaking through her.

      She didn’t kiss strangers. Ever.

      Especially not shirtless strangers in hotel rooms that were probably more than her month’s rent for one night. Especially not big rough, cowboy-type strangers. Who drew foxes and swore and took her phone and freely confessed to the desire to order porn.

      Neither of her exes would have ever admitted to such male crassness.

      Likely they engaged in it, but they never would have confessed it.

      Though, maybe Zack wouldn’t have confessed if she wasn’t a stranger. Maybe he was feeling freer, too.

      Maybe this would be good for both of them.

       Sliding down the slippery slope, Grace?

      She wanted to punch inner Grace in her smug perfect face. Except, inner Grace had a point. Inner Grace was thinking of Hannah. Of the bad sister. The one who had gone off the rails, into parties and drugs and now, to the point where no one had a clue where she was.

      Hannah, the daughter who made her mother cry, and her father sit in a dark room and just stare ahead sadly, at nothing.

      The daughter Grace had spent her teenage and adult years trying to make up for.

       But no one has to know about this. No one would ever know.

      She was fighting against this strange, icy feeling inside of her. The one that had kept her mouth frozen shut and her words carefully chosen while her boss had effectively ripped her a new one. The one that always checked with her parents before she made major decisions, to ensure that her decisions were good ones.

      The one that kept her head down and worked hard, her entire life a big demonstration of just how good she was so that no one would ever question it.

      And after that showdown in her boss’s office, she was tired of that. Tired of trying to be the Grace everyone else wanted to see. The problem was she didn’t know how to be anything else.

      But no one was here to question this. Zack was a stranger. He didn’t know anyone at work. He didn’t know her parents. He didn’t know her.

      This room was out of time, this man out of context with everything else in her life.

      Why not? Why not do this. Why not take this.

       No one will ever know....

      “One kiss,” she said. And even as she said it, she knew it wouldn’t stop at that.

      But she was tired of being frozen in indecision. Tired of being scared to act.

      So now she was acting. Just for now. Just for her.

      “Sure,” he said, arching a brow and moving toward her.

      He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her up against him, pinning her arms, his chest hard and hot against her wrists. “If you want to stop at one,” he said, his breath fanning across her cheek.

      He smelled good. Like skin and soap. No cologne or any other artificial scent. Just man. And she’d never really appreciated the smell of a man before.

      “Well, we haven’t even gotten to the one yet. You’re counting your chickens before they’re hatched.”

      “Am I still the fox in this scenario? Are the chickens in the same henhouse?”

      “I don’t know. Shut up and kiss me.”

      He did. His lips were hard on hers, taking, not asking. And there was nothing about that she should find hot. She wasn’t in to being taken. She wasn’t in to brute strength and big hands. Traditionally speaking. Right now his brute strength and big hands were really doing something for her.

      Like, lots of somethings.

      He curved his arms around her, his palms flat on her back, pulling her in, his large frame enveloping her.