Breaking Her Rules

by Jennifer Snow

Her hand flew to her mouth, and a look of hurt flashed in her eyes.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I called off the engagement. I’m not marrying Erik or moving in with him.”

  He stared at her briefly in disbelief, but a quick glance at her hand revealed no ring. Stepping forward, he grabbed her waist and pressed her body back against his. “You probably should have started with that,” he said before claiming her mouth with his.

  Two weeks of frustration, attraction, confusion, and doubt worked its way into the kiss as he held her close, afraid to stop kissing her, afraid to let her go.

  His hands tangled in her long hair as his tongue traced her lower lip. She moaned and he felt every fiber in his body come alive.

  Walker lifted her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he headed toward her bedroom. “Where are we going? The counter is right there . . . or the couch . . .”

  “You said I can’t have sex on your couch.” He kissed her neck and shoulder as he approached the bedroom door and pushed it open with his foot.

  Grace hit him playfully. “As long as it’s with me, you can have sex anywhere you like,” she said, reaching for the edge of his shirt and slipping her hands underneath. They slid across his abs, upward over his chest, then back down to the top of his jeans. Her touch felt incredible. “You have too many clothes on.” She reached for the buttons.

  He dropped her onto the bed. “Not so fast. What’s the rush, baby girl?”

  “You’ve only wanted to do this for two weeks, I’ve wanted it for twelve years, remem—”

  He stopped her words with his mouth, and a tiny moan escaped her lips. His body responded to the mere sound of her pleasure, of her accepting him, of her wanting him. His heart echoed in his ears as he struggled with a tiny ounce of doubt that remained. Was she sure about this? About him? Was he sure about her? But when her hands gripped the front of his T-shirt and she clung to him as she deepened the kiss, all doubt faded away.

  He held her firmly against him, her hips pressed against his, and immediately his cock swelled. She must have felt it against her body, because she dipped one hand lower, feeling him beneath his jeans.

  He groaned, releasing her mouth and sliding his lips to her neck. “Gracie,” he murmured before gently sucking on the soft flesh at her collarbone.

  Her breath caught when he bit softly. “Clothes off. Clothes. Off,” she said, sliding her hands beneath his shirt and forcing it up over his stomach and chest.

  When she reached for his jeans, he stopped her. And fuck if he knew where the strength came from to remove her hands from his fly, but he didn’t want to rush things.

  The desperate need inside him told him taking his time wouldn’t be an option either, and Gracie certainly didn’t seem patient for him as she abandoned her quest for his jeans zipper and instead tore her own tank top off, exposing her beautiful, soft, full breasts and perky nipples covered in goose bumps. “Are you cold?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her closer. The feel of her breasts against him drove him mad.

  “No, I’m tingling. I have goose bumps everywhere,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  He moved his hands up her back and then down the front of her chest until he was cupping both breasts. “Does this happen every time you’re aroused?”

  “No, this is a first,” she said, closing her eyes as he flicked his thumbs over the hardened buds.

  “Oh, Gracie . . .” He groaned and, wrapping his hands around her legs, he lifted her and laid her further up on the bed. When his body lowered onto hers, he ran a hand down her stomach, dipping lower into the front of her jeans.

  Her nails dug into his flesh on the back’s of his arms as she urged him to continue his downward trek. He slipped his hand beneath the lace waistband of her panties as he lowered his head to her nipple, circling it with his tongue before taking it in his mouth and sucking gently. His fingers brushed over a soft mound of bare flesh, reaching her sweet wetness between her legs.

  “Oh my God, that feels incredible,” she said, arching her back on the bed beneath him.

  “Which part?” he whispered against her skin, watching the goose bumps resurface as he gently scraped his teeth over her nipple.

  “All of it. Everything,” she whispered.

  His gaze traveled from her breasts to her face, and he watched her expression as his fingers stroked her clit. The undeniable need, want, and passion she had for him made his cock throb. “You’re so beautiful, Gracie. I don’t know how I never saw it until now . . .”

  “Shhhh, less talk, more kissing,” she said, propping her body onto her elbows and crushing his mouth with her own.

  But the more her lips and tongue explored his, the harder he became. If he didn’t have her soon, he was going to come in his jeans like an overexcited teenager. He broke away and tore off his jeans . . .

  Then with a slow grin, he folded them.

  “Walker!”

  “What? I can’t just throw them on the floor, can I?” Despite his intense arousal, he couldn’t resist teasing her.

  “Throw them on the floor!”

  He did. Then his underwear, his cock standing erect as it escaped the confines of his briefs.

  Gracie’s eyes went immediately to it and she smiled. “Even better when you’re excited,” she teased.

  “I should hope so. You did catch me straight from a cold shower that morning, you know.” He reached for her jeans next, ripping them off and tossing them aside.

  He reached for the waistband of her silk panties.

  “Take them off . . .” she begged.

  He did. Then he stared at her on the bed—naked, waiting, and more than ready for him. “Open for me,” he said, and she eagerly complied, spreading her legs apart to allow him to lie between them. The moment his cock brushed against her wetness, he closed his eyes and groaned. “I’ll warn you—this won’t last long,” he said, sliding the length of his cock over her clit, teasing her entrance with the tip.

  “Condoms—top drawer,” she said, and seconds later, covered, he hesitated, his body aligned with hers, his hands on her waist, ready to be one with her.

  “Ready?”

  “I was ready twelve years ago,” she said, and a cry escaped her as he entered.

  The tightness and heat wrapping itself around him blew his mind. She was so tight, so wet, so perfect. He slid in and out, slowly at first, then faster, and harder, until she was panting and begging beneath him. The sound of her voice saying his name, pleading with him to go deeper, faster, harder made it almost impossible not to come.

  Watching a beautiful, put-together, guarded woman come undone—because of him—was an intense pleasure in itself.

  She moaned and writhed beneath him, holding his hips against hers and rocking with his rhythm as he went deeper and deeper. “Walker, fuck me . . . please don’t stop . . .”

  He loved the way she cried out to him, begged him to pleasure her. “Tell me what you want, baby girl.”

  “I want you, Walker. I’ve always wanted you,” she said, her gaze locked with his.

  Shit, he couldn’t take it. It was too much. The sight of her body—the creamy, silky skin of her thighs wrapped around him; her soft, full breasts heaving as her breathing became more and more labored; and her lips, swollen and red from their kissing—was enough to put him over the edge, but nothing compared to the expression in her dark eyes as he pushed one final time deep within her.

  “Oh God, yes.” She let her head fall back, as her body trembled beneath him.

  Knowing she was coming wrecked him completely, and he let himself go, gripping her shoulders as his cock pulsed inside her. “Gracie . . . my Gracie,” he groaned in release, as his body shuddered and then went limp.

  She let out a deep breath as her arms circled him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He propped his head on his hand and caressed her cheek as he gazed down at her. “Thank you.” He traced her bottom lip with his fi
nger. “Little Gracie Andrews . . . Who the hell knew you’d be the best sex of my life?”

  “This girl, right here,” she said, pointing to herself. “I always knew those girls you dated were all wrong for you.”

  “I’m glad this didn’t happen before now. I was a moron back then. I never would have appreciated how wonderful, how perfect you are.”

  “And now?”

  He brushed a stray hair from her face. “And now I see it. I see you.”

  Chapter 12

  “Where are you going?” Grace asked, rolling over in her bed the next morning.

  Walker sat on the edge, sliding his legs into his jeans. “I have to get to the gym before Tyson locks me out of there,” he said, standing and buttoning his jeans.

  God he was sexy. Shirtless in a pair of jeans, standing next to her bed. Her bed. Walker Adams was standing next to her bed after an incredible night of sex. She sighed contentedly. “Well, do you have to look so sexy when you’re leaving me?” she asked, propping herself up on one elbow to watch him as he turned his shirt right side out.

  “I’m not leaving you for long, just a few hours.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “A few hours?”

  “Okay more like eight, but I’ll be back tonight,” he said coming around to her side of the bed and sitting. He placed his hands on the sides of her face and kissed her. “And I can’t wait to climb back into bed with you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Is that all you want from me? Mind-blowing sex?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  She slapped his arm. “Go, before Tyson locks you out of the gym.” They could ignore the fact all night while they were in each other’s arms, but in the light of day, they both realized the fight was crucial to win, now more than ever. Erik knew her change of heart had a lot to do with Walker. They’d pissed off the fight matchmaker. If he lost this fight, Walker’s chances of getting another one soon were slim.

  He hesitated. “What if I don’t want to leave you?” Pulling the blankets back, he climbed in next to her.

  She wasn’t about to argue. Not yet anyway. She snuggled closer to him, breathing in the scent of his cologne through his T-shirt. The stubble on his chin brushed against her forehead as he kissed the top of her head. “I can’t believe it took this long to get to this place right here . . .”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now,” she murmured, letting her eyes drift closed as his grip tightened around her.

  “I still don’t understand why you never told me how you felt.”

  “You were too busy dating cheerleaders.”

  “They were hot,” he said and she bit his arm. “Ow . . .” He laughed.

  “Exactly. They were hot. I wasn’t. I was your baby sister’s poor best friend who wore hand-me-down clothing and didn’t have breasts until I was twenty.”

  “Yeah, where did they come from?” He pulled the blanket away and cupped one, stroking the nipple gently.

  She wiggled free and mounted him, grabbing his arms and pinning them above his head.

  He could easily have reversed the position, but he stayed where she held him, his gaze falling to the item of discussion. “I mean they are pretty fucking perfect now,” he said, and she felt his erection between her legs as she straddled him.

  She rocked back and forth over his jeans, teasing him . . . and herself in the process. Now that she had him in her bed, she wasn’t sure she would ever be satisfied. Coming three times in the last eight hours had done nothing to satisfy her hunger for him, and she was happy to discover the same was true for him.

  “Gracie, you better stop that,” he said, his eyes closing as his breathing became labored.

  “Or else what?” she teased, pushing her hips against his.

  In a flash, he’d tossed her onto the bed and had her pinned. His fingers entwined with hers on the pillow above her head, and he lowered his lips to hers. “Or else, I’m not getting out of here.”

  “Then my plan is working,” she whispered, lifting her head to claim his mouth.

  ***

  Two hours later, Walker entered the gym. It was already busy with fighters training on the heavy bag, sparring inside the cage, and running on the treadmills. He was really off to a late start. But getting out of bed when Gracie had been so beautifully tempting . . . He shook the image of their morning sex from his mind. He needed to focus. But it was impossible to wipe the smile from his face. She’d ended things with Erik. She’d spent the night in his arms.

  Of course he wasn’t thrilled that he’d shot himself in the foot for a chance at another fight in the MFL if he didn’t win this upcoming bout, but Gracie was worth any extra effort he would need to put in to make his future fighting career a success.

  “Hey, Drew—where’s Tyson?” he asked, not seeing his coach on the training floor.

  “Office,” the lightweight fighter on the upcoming fight card with him said, wrapping his hands. “But if I were you, I’d come up with a pretty good excuse for why you’re strolling in after ten before you go up there.”

  Shit, his coach was pissed. In fact, the looks from the other fighters suggested they were all a little pissed. How many times had he been in a situation like this one in the past? Late for football practice because he’d been walking some girl home from school, late for boxing training because he’d been out late with a pretty girl the night before . . . He had to stop letting his passion for women land his ass in trouble. But, man this time was worth it. “Thanks for the warning.”

  He climbed the stairs to Tyson’s office and knocked once on the door before entering. “Hey, sorry I’m late . . .”

  Tyson didn’t look away from his computer. “I really don’t give a shit, man.”

  Yep, he was pissed. “Seriously, I am. But I’m here and ready to get started.”

  “I’m serious too. Get the fuck out.”

  “Tyson . . .”

  Finally the man turned, slamming his laptop shut. “You really don’t get it, do you, you cocky son of a bitch? In less than a week, you are stepping into a fight that any one of my guys down there, busting their ass training since the crack of dawn, would give their left nut for. And you waltz in at ten o’clock ready to go?”

  “I should have been here sooner. I will be here sooner—every day this week, I swear.” No more distractions. A week from now, he could spend all day in bed with Gracie. And he would. For now, he needed to concentrate on the fight ahead of him. Tyson was right—he was letting other things take his concentration, and he couldn’t step inside the octagon unprepared. Especially not now.

  “That’s fine, but I won’t be training you,” Tyson said, reaching for his sparring gloves as he left the office.

  “What?” Walker asked, following him out of the office and down the stairs. “You’re bailing on me?”

  Tyson turned midway. “No. You’re bailing on you. You come in here with an insane idea of fighting on three weeks’ notice against an opponent that is going to smear your blood across the canvas, by the way, and you expect me to help you. Then you don’t show up, or you show up late.” He took a step back up toward him and slapped him on the side of the head. “And this . . .” Then he poked his chest. “And this never shows up. At least, I’ve yet to see them.”

  His head and his heart. Tyson was right. He was going through the motions, learning the techniques, but he wasn’t fully committed. “What do I have to do to convince you I’m here one hundred percent?” He needed his coach this week more than ever.

  Tyson sighed. “You need to be here. Around the clock. You have to surround yourself with fighting. No bartending bullshit at night until three a.m., no women keeping you in bed until noon. You need to be here. You need to live, breathe, sleep the fight, man.”

  He was nodding. “Okay. One hundred percent. I get it.”

  Tyson shook his head. “I should walk, you know that, right? You know you being affiliated with my gym can hurt the club’s reputation, hurt my training camp’s reput
ation . . .” He gestured to the fighters training downstairs. “You’re going to fuck these guys if you don’t at least try to win.”

  He hadn’t considered his training would impact Tyson and the other guys. The realization was humbling. He’d messed up. He’d make it better, if his coach gave him another chance. “I understand.”

  “I should send you into this fight unaffiliated. That would be the best thing for me.”

  Unaffiliated. The worst word any fighter on the rise wanted to hear. No camp, no coach, no corner . . . Just him and his manager hoping for a miracle. “Give me one more shot, Tyson. Please.”

  He sighed, staring off across the gym for an excruciatingly long moment. “I’m going to regret this. Go get in the fucking cage.”

  Walker nodded. “Yes, Coach.”

  “Walker. I mean it. One shot. You do this my way this time or you’re on your own.”

  ***

  Sneaking past Rex’s office at ten thirty on a Tuesday morning proved challenging. With his all-glass walls in the center of the office, he could see everything happening around him, including employees showing up late. But with the help of a diversionary tactic—his receptionist bending over a file cabinet in a tight, short skirt holding his attention—Grace was able to slip past unnoticed.

  Erik’s office, however, was a different story.

  “Grace!” he called through the open door as she passed.

  She sighed. They worked together. This was going to happen. They still needed to communicate, and avoiding him wasn’t an option. She forced a smile as she walked in. “Good morning.”

  He checked his watch. “Getting a late start?”

  She refused to rise to any bait. “Did you need something?”

  He stood and closed the door. “Yes. I wanted to talk . . .”

  “Erik, there’s nothing to say and I really don’t think we should keep discussing it. We need to find a way to work together and—”

  He held up a hand as he sat in his chair. “I was about to say we need to talk about the new program Knock Out Sports would like to air.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she nodded. “Oh, right. The fighter showcase segment. You know, I really don’t see the benefit, and even Walker agrees fighters training for a fight don’t—”