Against the Rules (Harts of Passion Book 1)

by M. E. Montgomery

  I responded instinctively, sliding my fingers through his hair as my tongue licked across his lower lip. His low groan accompanied his roving hands that kneaded my butt as his knee pushed between my legs. He turned and pushed me into the wall of the adjacent building. Brazenly, I rubbed against his leg as our kiss continued.

  A horn honked somewhere out on the street, jerking us both back to reality.

  "Grace." His voice sounded strangled as he slowly pulled back. "Come home with me. Please. Just to talk. Then I'll take you home if you still want." His lips brushed mine again, and it was all I could do not to hold his head, so he'd stay right there.

  There was something so vulnerable in his voice. I rested my hands on his chest where I could feel his heart beat in overtime against my palm. One way or another, this had to stop, for both our sakes. I pushed against him and scooted around him when he took a step back. "Jax, I...I don't..."

  His shoulders slumped as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. Again. It's the way I seem to be around you. I'll take you home, and I promise I won't bother you again."

  There was no hesitation this time. "No. We should talk."

  21

  Jax

  I couldn't hold back my sigh of relief when Grace agreed to come home with me. I knew I was lucky she was giving me another chance. This time, I wouldn't make the mistake of walking away unless she didn't want me. But judging by the way she kissed me back, I had a renewed sense of hope.

  She was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to my house and played with her fingers in her lap. I hated that I'd made her uncertain around me when she'd always been so strong and able to put up with my bullshit. Noah had been right; Grace was someone I wasn't able to forget. I'd tried. And it obviously wasn't about sex, which was what my other 'relationships' with women had been based on. I'd enjoyed their company to a point, but I didn't look forward to spending time with them outside of the bedroom.

  It had to mean something. Something big enough I was willing to break my rules. I was fucking terrified. I was breathless. I was determined.

  I parked in my assigned space to my newly renovated condo. I glanced over to see her biting her lip. Undoing my seatbelt, I reached across and pulled the abused flesh from her teeth. "Don't be nervous. We won't do anything you don't want to do, okay? But I think we need to talk. Or, rather, I need to talk and hope you'll listen. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  There was nothing to her tone to give me a clue about what she might be thinking. I struggled not to touch her on the elevator ride up to my place. Ever since I'd seen that fucker with his hands on her, I'd been dying to wipe his prints off of her and replace them with my own. But I hadn't earned that right, not yet, despite yielding to the need to taste her for what might be the last time depending on how the rest of tonight went.

  "Wow." Her eyes darted all around my living space. "Your place is...nice. It looks like something right off the pages of a designer's magazine."

  I didn't bother to mention that it was. Her words sounded the way one says something when they're trying to be kind, but not honestly liking what they see. Funny, it usually impressed anyone else that I brought here, but I suspected it was because they saw it as evidence of the material comforts I could provide them.

  Leave it to Grace to view it through a different lens. I tried to see it through her eyes. Neat, clean lines of leather and glass furniture met light grey walls and dark wood floors. There were no fussy, overstuffed pillows that took up most of the couch nor soft blankets in which to cuddle, no conversational photography books on the coffee table, and no happy pictures of days at the beach with family or college days with friends. It was organized, clean, and efficient, the way I liked my life. I'd always thought it was modern, chic. Now it looked cold and impersonal. Grace was the only splash of color in the large room. Fitting; she was the only color in my life.

  "Can I get you something to drink?" I walked into my kitchen, feeling a little lost as to what to do, where to start. Usually, when I brought a woman back to my condo, we headed straight for the bedroom. I didn't have to worry about other entertainment.

  "Just some iced water, please."

  I returned with the request, along with a square glass and a generous portion of eighteen-year Glenmorangie. Call it what it was—liquid courage. I pressed a button on a remote resting on my mantle, and warm flames rose up in the fireplace. It was my best effort at trying to infuse some artificial warmth into the space.

  "I know it's not as comfortable as your parents' house, but I don't spend much time here, so I guess I've never really noticed." I'm not sure why I felt the need to apologize.

  She smiled. "It goes along well with the J. Carter image."

  "I'm not sure what that means."

  "It's the same image you first give off. Polished, cool, collected."

  "Why do you sound like you don't approve?"

  A shrug was her only answer until I raised a questioning eyebrow and nodded for her to continue.

  "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be insulting. You are all those things. And those are all good qualities, especially in business. But it's also aloof. And I know there's much more to you that you try to keep hidden."

  Her words began to pour out in a rush. "You have a wicked sense of humor, you're willing to fight for the underdog, and you love your family and are willing to jump in to help. But you can't see any of that here. It's just another barrier to getting to know the real you. Like a mask or a...a..." Wide eyes stared at me. "I'm sorry, that came out harsher than I meant."

  She only stopped when I put my finger to her mouth. "You're so cute when you ramble." When she stood still and looked up at me with her gorgeous blue eyes, my heart beat a little faster.

  "Never apologize to me for what you think. One of the things I admire about you is you're not afraid to tell me the truth."

  "I wouldn't lie to you."

  "I believe you." If she only knew how big of an admission that was, she wouldn't take my words for granted.

  Grace took a step back from me. "Why are we here, Jax?"

  "Because it was closer than your place?" I teased her with a grin that hopefully belied my nervousness.

  Grace crossed her arms and gave me a look that reminded me of my mother when she knew I wasn't telling the truth. I pulled her to sit beside me on my couch. I negotiated multi-million dollar deals frequently. I wasn't afraid of conflict and had taken on more than one ornery construction site manager or cocky lawyer. I always won. But I sensed this was more life-changing. I needed to pick my words carefully, balance them so she'd know I was serious but not overwhelm her and send her running.

  I picked up her hand that was resting on one of her knees and stared at it. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. It was unfounded and unfair. You were right when you called me an ass."

  Her eyebrow arched. "I'd say I'm sorry for slapping you, but I'd be lying."

  I smiled wryly. "I deserved it. Relationships are hard for me because trust doesn’t come easily to me. I've found it easier to be around people I don't care about, at least not about anything personal. I pick people, women, I don't need to worry about trusting because I don't share anything personal in return."

  "That sounds lonely." My heart softened at the sympathy I heard in her voice. I didn't want her pity, but the understanding and compassion I heard filled me in a way that felt good.

  "I didn't think so. My needs were fulfilled." I looked at her. "At least I thought so until you fell into my life. You, with all your fire and snark who isn't afraid to call me out on my bullshit made me feel lonely when you weren't around. More so when you were around, but not mine."

  I heard her breath hitch, but I needed to finish. "You were right earlier. I do put up barriers. I immerse myself in work because it consists of contracts and designs that I can control. But I can't control the feelings that you create in me. I'm tired of trying. When you mentioned finding what you need with someone else, something snappe
d inside me. In a word, you might call it jealousy. But it was more than that. I felt a loss like maybe I'd missed out on something amazing and might not ever be gifted the chance to have it again." She had to have heard the slightly desperate note that I ended on.

  “Jax, I..."

  "Please tell me I'm not too late. Please tell me you won't go on that date tomorrow night." I held my breath, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach like a rock. I waited for her to say something, anything, to end this void.

  Instead, she started to giggle which finally emerged into full laughter. It was a beautiful sound that echoed off the hard walls of my home—and my heart. But was she laughing at me? I wasn't sure whether to laugh with her or puke.

  "Too cheesy?" I asked.

  She immediately stopped laughing, her eyes crinkled in worry. "Oh, no! No, what you said was perfect. Absolutely perfect." Her free hand covered mine that was still gripping her other one like a lifeline. "No one has ever said anything to me that was so heartfelt and wonderful. It's just that you..." She started smiling again.

  "You're killing me here, Grace."

  "I don't have a date tomorrow. Well, I mean I do, but not that kind."

  Hope stirred within me. "Oh?"

  "It's only a business meeting. I was tired of Jade and Maggie trying to fix me up. They think I need to get laid and since you were no longer in the picture, I mean, not that we ever were going to, or that you wanted, or I mean, I wasn't looking for that as you know, but I..."

  Her face was bright red as I watched her try to talk her way out of the innuendo that she was only making worse. I knew by now she'd spiral herself into a quagmire of more words, so I stopped her the best way I could think of. I leaned in and caught her lips midsentence. My heart knew a lightness it hadn't known in years, and I didn't want to rush this moment. I tried to slow time, treasuring the moment to enjoy her sweetness, teasing her with small kisses on her lips until I finally sealed them beneath mine. She relinquished the hand she was holding as she leaned closer and rested it against my thigh, using my leg as leverage to get closer.

  "For the record, I've always wanted you," I mumbled against her sweet tasting lips.

  I nibbled her lower lip and used her gasp to slip inside her mouth. Her responding groan and the almost shy way her tongue met mine initiated a launch sequence that was going to be hard to put back in the box. Especially when she wiggled even closer. There wasn't a thought on my mind other than to bring her closer as my arm slipped around her waist and brought her to me. Her knees straddled my hips, and her soft center landed directly on my hard and growing harder cock. Breathing hard, I murmured, "Grace, what are you doing to me?"

  She jerked back as if stung. "What? What did I do?"

  I heard the confusion and a touch of hurt in her voice. I put my arms around her when she would have pulled away.

  "That's just it. I don't know what you're doing, only that whatever it is, I don't want you to stop. The other night when I stopped you, I didn't know how to handle these feelings. I wasn't sure I wanted to handle them. I tried to convince myself I didn't need you, that I was fine without you."

  Her arms and legs stiffened around me. I slid my hands upward to capture her face in my palms. "But I wasn't fine. All I could think about was you. I missed your laugh and your smile. I missed your snappy comebacks." I grinned. "I even missed how your mouth runs away from you sometimes."

  "I don't talk too much! Sometimes it seems there's a lot to say, or I get nervous, or..."

  I raised an eyebrow.

  She wrinkled her nose but laughed. "Okay, maybe I do."

  I smoothed her hair back before capturing her face between my hands. "I missed you, Grace. I've never missed a woman before. Tell me that means something to you because it sure as hell does to me."

  One of her hands joined one of mine. "I...it does." But she shook her head, and the hope in my heart plummeted.

  "But?"

  "But we've already had so many ups and downs since we've met. You need to understand that if you share any part of my life, you're entering the fishbowl I live in. People will question who you are and watch your every move. Some who will hold you to a different standard, and a few will wait, even cheer, for you to screw up."

  "I don't understand. Why would they care who you date?"

  She shook her head. "It's hard to explain. I guess in some small way it's like having paparazzi always watching. Only instead of the media, it could be anyone, from skeptics to church members. They hold us to a different standard than they do themselves. And if any of us make a mistake or get caught doing something questionable in their eyes, they want to rake us over the coals. Maybe it validates them in some way, I don't know."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "It might be, but it happens. And after what happened with the last guy I dated seriously, well, let's say I'm a major focus right now."

  I was going to come back to that story in a minute, but in the meantime, I needed to clarify something. "And you think it will be too much for me and I'll bail on you."

  "You wouldn't be the first."

  The rest of her implication was unspoken but was loud and clear all the same. I'd already proven I didn't have issues walking away. Fuck me. How could I prove to her that I was different, that I was strong enough to stand up to them? To prove that she was different for me?

  "Let's go back to this guy you said something happened with. What exactly happened?"

  Her shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes as she lowered them to the floor. She tried to pull away from me, but I wasn't going to let her completely disengage. I clasped her hand to my knee and rubbed small circles on the back of it with my thumb. Where had the beautiful and confident young woman, who'd stood her ground against me just hours ago, disappeared?

  I brushed her cheek with the backs of my knuckles. Her blue eyes latched onto mine, and I tried to make her see that I meant my next words. "I might understand better than you think. Tell me. If you knew some of the things I've done, you'd know I won't judge you. And I'm not running away this time no matter what you say."

  She shrugged. "I won't hold you to that once you hear everything." She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and slowly released it. "You know how I described to you the type of guys I'd met at Maggie and Derek's wedding?"

  I nodded. Not only were they unforgettable stories, but it was when she'd first captivated me.

  "Well, there's been other guys that weren't like that, but, well, you saw how intimidating my father can be, and I think it freaked them out. A little over a year ago, I met this guy, Travis. He was fun, good-looking, and ran his own business. He seemed like everything I looked for in a guy; he was attentive, supportive of my growing business, and never rushed me, always telling me we had all the time in the world. We dated for a couple of months before I finally introduced him to my family. I wanted to make good and certain he liked me enough to stick around.

  "Everything went well. He got along great with everyone, except my dad. Travis never gave me any reason not to trust him, but for whatever reason, Daddy didn't like him. He said he didn't trust him. I figured he was being a dad and thought nobody was good enough for his girls."

  She cleared her throat. I could feel the tension that gripped her beneath my hand. "Travis hadn't grown up with any particular faith, but he attended with me every Sunday and got involved in ushering. I was thrilled that I'd found someone who fit into my life so well. I thought I was falling in love with him."

  It wasn't easy hearing about her feelings toward this Travis guy, but I needed to know what my girl had gone through. And yes, that's how I was thinking of her. Mine.

  "What happened, baby?"

  She raised startled eyes at the endearment. Her lips tilted upward in a shy smile, an emotion I wasn't used to from her.

  "My mom called one morning. She was frantic because the police were at the church for a drug raid."

  My jaw dropped. "A what?"

  She winced and nodded. I
n a flat tone, she continued. "You heard right. Travis was using our church to hide oxycodone and fentanyl pills. He used his role as an usher to have access to a small room where the acolytes and crucifer keep their robes and other stuff. We learned later he sold them in the parking lot under the guise of welcoming a "potential new member" who'd show up on Sunday mornings. With the turn in the economy and more and more people moving here, it was easy to assume they were visitors.

  "They took my dad to the station for questioning. While I was talking to my mom, my doorbell rang. The police were there to question me, too. I knew nothing about what he'd been doing. I know it sounds naïve, but I'd had no reason to suspect anything. Lucky for us, Travis found the last remaining decent bone in his body and told the police that I hadn't been involved in any way and that I'd never been around when he was conducting ‘business.’ Travis went to jail, and Daddy and I were exonerated of any collaboration. No one blamed Daddy because he's so respected and they saw him as a victim as well."

  Stunned almost beyond words, I couldn't help but stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed at her. "And you?"

  She shook her head. "Most were understanding, but a few blamed me. A very vocal few. They see me as the reason it happened in the first place. Had I had better sense or not been so stupid, I would have seen Travis for what he was—a drug dealer. Sometimes I think they're right. Either way, it was my fault. I'm the one who brought the lion into the fold."

  Oh, how I knew better than most that perpetrators of all kinds don't come with warning labels. "Oh, sweetheart. You were the biggest victim of all. He betrayed your trust and used your feelings for him and left you to deal with the consequences. It wasn't your fault."

  "I keep thinking I should have noticed something, some clue that he was a drug dealer, that he was scum. But instead, I was focused on me and how he made me feel." Uncertain eyes lifted to me. “You make me feel a lot like he did.”