Breaking His Rules Read online

  He came and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. Placing a finger under my chin, he turned my face to his. “What’s going through that pretty little head of yours right now?”

  By the sparkle in his eyes, I could tell he thought I was worrying over the fact that I was not the first woman to be entertained in his private suite. Guess he didn’t know me. I crossed my arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Do I still have my job?”

  A moment of surprise swept his features and I smiled inside. I’d been right. He expected me to be jealous. But I hated pettiness in others so I couldn’t abide it in myself. What he did in his free time wasn’t my concern. My livelihood was an entirely different matter.

  He leaned in, resting one of his hands on the bed next to my hip. I could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin sheet. “You broke rule number one.” That husky timbre to his voice was back. His eyes flickered to the mattress. “You slept in my bed.”

  His lips were so close to mine and I felt a familiar heat gathering between my thighs. He smelled fresh and yummy with a hint of peppermint on his breath. I still wanted him and he knew it, the bastard.

  “I did not break the rule,” I said, poking my finger into his chest, telling myself I did it to bring home my point and not as a means to touch him again. “You’re not a patron, you’re the owner.”

  He grinned and sat back, folding his arms in a mirror image of my earlier stance. “Then you broke rule number two.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re not a coworker. At best, you’re my boss. Are you even on the payroll? I’m a betting girl, and I’d place my bet on no.” I was no virgin to dealing with wealthy and successful men. I pressed my point further. “Billionaires don’t amass that kind of wealth through nightclubs. Midnight Blue is nothing more than a hobby. You’ve got that slick investment banker feel about you. Am I right?”

  “You speak with a lot of conviction for someone so young,” he said, growing serious. “Why are you so sure of yourself?”

  “Am I right?”

  He stared at me and nodded.

  “Then I can keep my job?” I held my breath and gripped the sheets at my sides. Damon had no idea how important his answer was to me.

  “Yes.” He ran the back of his hand along my cheek. “You can keep your job. You’re a damned good bartender. But sometime soon I’ll share the secret of the perfect martini with you.”

  I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him close. For once in my life fortune smiled down at me. I’d had the most amazing sex with this man and I got to keep my job. But the cherry on top seemed to be that he also limited his encounters to a single night. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  His gaze fell and I heard the soft hitch of his breath in his throat. The sheet had fallen to my waist in my moment of joy and my naked tits bounced proudly between us, the nipples taut with excitement. He stood and stepped back as I scrambled to cover myself.

  “You should shower now,” he said with an oddly strained voice. “I’ll wait for you in the living room and drive you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said, running my hand through my hair and wondering for the first time how I must look.

  “I know.” His nose flared and I sensed his frustration. “But I insist.” He turned on his heel and in five long strides he clasped the door handle and disappeared into the living room.

  What was that all about? I clambered to my feet and skipped to the bathroom, feeling elated. My skinny jeans and T-shirt were piled in a neat stack on the counter. On top were my freshly laundered bra and panties. He had even retrieved my knee high boots, trench coat, and purse. How had he accessed my locker? I filed that into the back of my head to discuss with him later.

  Without a ponytail holder in sight, I twisted my long hair and formed a knot at the base of my neck. It would have to do for now. I didn’t want to wash it here. It would take forever to dry and spring mornings in Chicago were still a bit nippy.

  I browsed through the assortment of bottles in his shower and smiled. Perhaps Mr. Baxter didn’t entertain females in his private suite as often as he liked me to believe. Or at least he never invited them to sleep in his bed. There were no feminine bottles in his shower, yet he’d been attentive to my every need last night. Wouldn’t he keep sweet smelling body wash handy if he made a practice of allowing women to stay the night?

  I stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and smelling of rare woods and warm musk. It was a first for me and I was surprised to find how much I liked it, being bathed in the scent of Damon Baxter. Did his undershirts smell like this? I wouldn’t have minded sneaking one home with me to sleep in at night.

  After slipping on my clothes, I zipped up my knee high boots. The soft beige leather hugged my calves. They were my favorite boots. I finger-combed my hair and put on a thin layer of lip gloss. It would have to do. Reaching for my trench coat and purse, I took one last glance in the mirror and headed out to find Damon.

  He sat at a round table for two, nibbling on a croissant as he browsed the Sunday paper with his morning coffee casting off a rich dark roast aroma to tease my nostrils. My stomach growled and he looked up.

  “Sorry.” I shrugged. “Your coffee smells delicious.”

  “Have a seat.” He pointed to the opposite chair where he had laid out another plate. “I’ll get you a cup.”

  “No, really. It’s fine.” I glanced at the door leading out to The Lounge and kneaded the soft leather of my purse. “I can wait until I get home. But thanks for the offer.”

  He tilted his head, as if deciding whether or not it was worth arguing over. “Suit yourself.”

  “I’ll get out of your hair,” I said, backing up toward the door as I eyed his formal attire. “You look like you have somewhere important to go.”

  “I’d rather take you home.” His words were a soft caress.

  My eyes narrowed on his lips. How did he do that? Make even the simplest things sound sexy. “Why?”

  “I have a private exit that will take us out the back.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled politely. “You might be uncomfortable facing the cleaning crew. Or the next shift. We open for business in an hour.”

  My jaw dropped open. I had slept the entire day? No wonder I felt so rested. He was eating a croissant with coffee and I’d assumed…

  This was not good. But he was right. If I wanted to keep my job, then we couldn’t be seen together. “Okay.”

  He escorted me down a flight of stairs and held open the door at the end of a long corridor which led to the alley behind the nightclub. A black BMW 7 Series awaited our arrival. The second Damon stepped through the doorway, a large man dressed in a dark gray suit hopped out of the driver’s seat and opened the back passenger door.

  “Thank you, Stefan,” Damon said with a curt nod before ushering me into the backseat.

  When we were settled, Stefan resumed his place at the steering wheel and glanced in the rearview mirror. “Where to, Mr. Baxter?”

  Damon turned to me and motioned with his hand for me to provide my address. I lifted one eyebrow. “Like you don’t already know the answer to his question?”

  “I’m not in the habit of reading employee files,” he said, staring down his nose at me.

  Serious and annoyed Damon was really cute. Perhaps I was a little sick for drawing so much amusement out of teasing him, but I couldn’t resist. “Only breaking into their lockers?”

  A grin broke the stony façade of his face and he chuckled. “That was me being chivalrous. Not nosey. Would you have preferred to walk home naked?”

  “I could have worn my uniform home,” I said with a cheeky grin.

  He ran his finger along my jaw and the tiniest sparkle of mirth glittered in his eyes. “You mean my uniform.”

  Stefan cleared his throat and my head snapped up. Getting caught up in light banter with Mr. Baxter was far too easy. I sighed and gave Stefan my address at 707 W. Sheridan Road. He placed earbuds in an
d began to drive.

  What would Damon think of my four hundred and sixty square foot studio apartment one block west of Lake Shore Drive? It didn’t really matter since he would never see inside. We drove in silence for most of the short trip along Lake Michigan. Hailing from New York City originally, I appreciated the beauty of the large body of water. It was the main reason I’d chosen my apartment complex—because it was so near to the water and reminded me of home.

  Now Chicago was starting to feel like home and I was so grateful I still had my job. Things were turning around for me. Finally. I even harbored hope that last night wouldn’t cause any awkward moments between me and Damon if we happened to run into each other now and again at Midnight Blue. Maybe it was best to talk to him head on about it and make sure we were on the same page.

  “Mr. Baxter,” I said, looking away from the lake and into his eyes. “I sincerely hope last night won’t cause you any discomfort if we see each other at the nightclub when I’m working. I know it can’t happen again. This job means a lot to me. But last night was…” Words could not do my feelings justice. What he’d made me feel in the span of a couple of hours went beyond anything I’d experienced before. “Lovely. I’d like to remember it that way. Untainted.”

  “No awkward feelings.” He laid his hand over mine and patted it softly. “And just so we’re clear. I never invite employees into my private suite. It won’t happen again. You beguiled me,” he said with a teasing smile. “Lovely. I’d like to remember last night that way, too.”

  As we gazed at each other, I wondered what might’ve been if we’d met under different circumstances. He was a billionaire. That fact would’ve turned me off outside the bedroom. But he was also kind and had a sense of humor. I liked him.

  When we arrived in front of my complex, I didn’t have any more time to waste on thoughts of what might have been, because I was shocked to find my brother, Mason, sitting on the steps. He hadn’t visited me once since my move to the windy city. My heart filled with joy and I desperately wanted to leap out of the car and rush into his embrace. But that would’ve been rude after everything Damon had done for me.

  I turned to him and squeezed his hand, not caring if I looked like an idiot with a smile so broad it nearly hurt my cheeks. “Thank you for a memorable evening.”

  He stared at my brother and frowned. Before I could open the door, Damon grabbed my wrist. I glanced at Mason and sighed. What could Damon possibly want now? My brother was finally here and I didn’t appreciate losing a single second with him. But Damon was my boss. I’d best not forget that fact.

  “Who is that man?” he asked, his eyes never leaving Mason.

  My stomach fluttered as I took in his tight jaw and pursed lips. Damon Baxter was jealous of my brother. I’d seen that look too many times in the past with other men not to recognize it for what it was. Whether Damon realized it, too, was an entirely different question.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Baxter,” I said with wide-eyed innocence. “That’s really none of your business. Is there anything else you wanted? I really need to go now.”

  “Yes.” He settled hungry dark eyes on mine, and I swooned a little inside. I would never tire of gazing into his eyes. “When is your next free evening?”

  “My what?”

  It almost sounded like he wanted to ask me out. But that didn’t make any sense. We had just agreed last night could not be repeated. Hadn’t we?

  “Free evening,” he said in a husky whisper as his eyes dropped to my mouth.

  He was going to kiss me again. Tiny butterfly wings flitted across my belly as I watched him lean in. By the time he brushed his lips against mine, my entire body was humming and begging for his touch. His taste was intoxicating, and I fell limp against his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. I was powerless to stop him when confronted with his masterful tongue and sensuous lips. He nibbled and dipped his tongue in and out of my mouth, teasing and drawing little tremulous moans from the back of my throat.

  When our breathing grew heavy, he finally stopped and gazed at me with ravenous eyes. “You promised I’d enjoy your smart mouth wrapped around my cock. I don’t believe you made good on your promise last night.”

  My heartbeat skittered to a near halt before resuming at a quickened pace. I hadn’t had that distinct pleasure yet. “Are you being serious?”

  “Quite.”

  I hesitated and began to pull back, but he anticipated my move. He held my jaw captive in his large hand, running his fingers along the edge. “One full night, Samantha,” he whispered, and leaned forward for one more soft kiss, like he simply couldn’t resist. “Let us have one full night together. This time at my penthouse.”

  “It’s a bad idea,” I whispered back, capturing his full bottom lip in my teeth and tugging gently.

  He sat back in his seat and pierced me with a heated stare. “Sometimes bad can be really good.”

  I nodded and reached for the door handle. “Thursday.”

  “I’ll be here to pick you up at seven o’clock sharp.”

  What possessed me to agree to a second night in his arms? Sirens went off in my head. I recognized the strong attraction between us. Men like him always hurt women like me—without even meaning to do so. Damon was a billionaire, and he achieved his success through control. It was in his DNA. He was already starting to exert control over me. And I didn’t want to be controlled. More than anything I wanted to be the love of some man’s life.

  Just one more night. We started at three-thirty in the morning, so it didn’t count as a full night. I did promise him he’d enjoy my mouth, and I don’t renege on my promises.

  But no matter how many excuses I came up with, I knew they were exactly that. Excuses. The truth of the matter was that one night in the arms of Damon Baxter was not enough. I still wanted him. And apparently he still wanted me.

  I had no idea what that meant. And for the moment, I didn’t care. My brother was in town and for the next few days, he would be my primary focus. With our good-bye out of the way, I threw open the door and raced toward my brother, calling out his name. He stood and laughed as I flung myself into his outstretched arms, and he rained kisses on my head. It felt so good to have him here, and I could only hope he would stay for more than just a day or two.

  He swung me around once and then set me on my feet, glancing over my shoulder. His eyes narrowed. “Who is that man shooting daggers into my chest with his ferocious glare?”

  “What?” Spinning around I found Damon had lowered the window. I smiled and waved at him, and his frown melted away. With one last glance in the direction of the BMW, I turned and wrapped my arm around Mason’s waist.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, squeezing him tight. “You won’t believe it when I tell you where I landed a job!”

  CHAPTER 5

  Wealthy, Arrogant Men

  “Who is that, Samantha?” Mason stopped dead in his tracks and folded his arms as he watched Damon’s BMW pull away from the curb.

  The man who thoroughly fucked me to multiple orgasms last night. The thought had me grinning from ear to ear, but my big brother probably wasn’t prepared for that kind of honesty. Perhaps I could distract him instead while his gaze was still glued on the car.

  “How long have you been waiting?” I asked. “Not long I hope.”

  The car disappeared around the corner and Mason turned his direct stare on me. “Why are you avoiding my question?”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I’m not. I’m just so happy to see you.” Looping my arm through his again, I gave him one of my sweetest smiles. “It’s been almost a year. Can’t a girl be happy to see her big brother? Are you hungry after your trip? I can make you something. Or we could go out to dinner.”

  My brother’s eyes sparkled with laughter and the corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t let it go. “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work. Who was that?”

  Crossing my arms, I stared at him with pressed lips. So thi
s was how he wanted to play it? Guess old habits died hard. He could be tenacious. Every nerve ending in my body tingled with the need to answer him; a trained response from years of obeying the men in my family. But I’d be damned if I gave into the overwhelming urge. “None of your business.”

  The sardonic lift of Mason’s eyebrow sent a little tremor down my spine, but I held fast and strong. Wealthy, arrogant men no longer ruled my life. Except when I let them in the bedroom, like last night. But that was a different story. I hadn’t moved to Chicago and started my life over just for Mason to come here one year later, thinking he could boss me around.

  We were venturing into new territory. My stomach twisted as he contemplated me with rigid shoulders and an unwavering stance. His crystal blue eyes bored into mine. It was like staring into a mirror—each of us cold and implacable. Despite the agony of watching the tick working in his cheek muscle, I resisted the urge to wring my hands. Barely.

  “You can tell me when you’re ready,” he said, reaching out to cup my face in his hand. The corners of his lips turned up. “I’m happy to see you, too, Sammy. And I want to hear all about this new job of yours.”

  Turning my cheek into the warmth of his touch, I embraced the unconditional love he offered. Mason was always there for me when I needed him, and he possessed the uncanny ability to know when to back off. He wasn’t going to force the matter. At least not for now. I felt on top of the world. Grabbing his hand, I led him into the building.

  The feeling of elation lasted the entire trip up the stairs to my second floor apartment, until it dawned on me that Mason wasn’t going to like my living arrangements. He wouldn’t fall in love with the charming wood floors or the cute little courtyard view from my window. He was in for a shock. My fingers shook slightly as I unlocked the door and held it open for him to enter.

  Maybe he would surprise me. Or maybe not.

  He stood stock-still with his hands shoved into the pockets of his charcoal grey trousers as his eyes roamed the tiny space, taking in my faux cream leather sofa bed with chaise, simple cherrywood side and coffee tables, and my favorite reading chair. I’d splurged on a set of three small paintings from a street artist, each depicting Chicago city life in vibrant colors, but Mason didn’t even seem to notice their existence.