I glanced up in the mirror, and my body fired into action. I clutched her hips as she sank down on my dick.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Not wasting any time.”
Her tongue darted out then back in as she rocked her toned body up then down. Just watching her in the mirror was enough for me to orgasm. But I couldn’t. I wanted to take my time. I wanted to enjoy every fucking moment, minute, hour, day, year, and forever with her having her way with me.
She moaned as her breasts bounced.
I rubbed a path up the sides of her curves until I was pinching her nipples.
She mewled louder. “Kade, I’m not going to last.”
I flipped us, pulling her off me. “You’re not letting go yet.”
She pouted. “Why? We can go round two, three, four, and so on all night long.”
She had a point, and holding out would be painful. Regardless, I had to taste her. I would never forget how explosive our first time had been. Over the years, our lovemaking had actually gotten more powerful than when we were in high school. I would never get tired of her body. Never.
I settled in between her legs, and as if on cue, she opened for me. I kissed the inside of one thigh then the other, trailing my lips up. Her breathing grew shallow, and when I captured her bundle of nerves, she shot off the bed.
I reached up and flattened my hand on her stomach, urging her to lie back.
“Kade, you have to stop. I want you inside me first,” she protested.
As an answer, I sucked her clit into my mouth and swirled my tongue around. In a second, she was writhing and moaning and saying my name over and over again. When I pushed a finger inside her, she tensed before she gripped the sheets. I let her ride out her orgasm as I crawled up her body and positioned my dick at her entrance.
My own breathing increased as adrenaline shot through me. At that moment with the soft light, us, and her as my wife, the world spun even more when I said, “Mrs. Kade Maxwell.”
She squirmed as her hands clutched Mr. Steel. Then she guided me as we locked eyes. I thrust in slow and steady.
She glanced up at the ceiling. I did too, but I couldn’t exactly see that well.
Her lips formed into a seductive grin as I pushed all the way into her. She swung her arms out to the sides of the bed and kept her eyes on the mirror as I moved in and out. The thought of her watching me only made me move faster, harder.
She rocked with me as she played with her nipples.
“Legs around me,” I commanded.
Sweat dripped from me onto her.
When her ankles were locked around me, she squeezed, her inner walls gripping me so hard, I growled. I didn’t want this moment to end. But my body had a mind of its own. One more thrust, and I was a goner. Stars coated my vision as I rocked one last time before that free-falling sensation overtook my body.
I peered down at her. “Unconscious beauty.” I’d said those two words to her many times in high school. She had a way of walking into a room, poised and confident, turning heads and totally unaware of the effects she had on the opposite sex.
She shivered as she continued to grip my dick. “I love you, husband.”
I captured her earlobe in my mouth. “You are my unconscious beauty. My life has never been as complete as it is now. Now if you keep squeezing, round two won’t be long.”
She squealed. “Good. I don’t want to stop until the sun comes up.”
Unfortunately, I needed to regroup. My little minx was full of vigor for someone who’d appeared to be sleepy only twenty minutes ago.
I rolled off her, and she whimpered.
I ran my hand through my sweaty hair.
She lifted up on her elbow then lightly touched my new tattoo. “Does your chest hurt from the tattoo?”
Until that moment, I hadn’t registered any pain, but a dull ache began to surface, which didn’t matter.
All that did matter was her and me and the life we were about to build together.
Dear Reader
When I started to write the first book in this series, Dare to Kiss, I had no idea how well the book would do. Six books later and readers from all over the world are in love with the Maxwells. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. Thank you for taking a chance on me and for loving the Maxwell men.
I’ve been asked many times if there will be more Maxwell books, and while I do have a couple of storylines in mind, I can’t say for sure when any more books in this series will be released.
What I can say is that you will see books on some of the secondary characters that you’ve met throughout the series. And first up will be Hart of Darkness. This story is based on Dillon Hart as he embarks on a crusade to find his baby sister.
Books in the Maxwell Series
Dare to Kiss - Kade Maxwell’s story
Dare to Dream - Kade Maxwell’s story continued
Dare to Love - Kelton Maxwell’s story
Dare to Dance - Kross Maxwell’s story
Dare to Live - Kody Maxwell’s story
Dare to Breathe - Kade Maxwell’s story
Dare to Kiss and Dare to Dream should be read in order.
However, Dare to Love, Dare to Dance, and Dare to Live can all be read as a stand alone.
Dare to Breathe should be read after reading Dare to Kiss and Dare to Dream.
Also, if you have moment to spare, I would super appreciate a short review. Your help in sharing your excitement and spreading the word about the Maxwell brothers would be greatly appreciated.
Connect with S.B. Alexander
Stay up-to-date on all things related to my books and download a free copy of my sexy new adult romance: http://sbalexander.com/newsletter
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Titles by S.B. Alexander
To read samples and find out where to purchase all books visit: http://sbalexander.com/books
The Maxwell Series:
Dare to Kiss - Book 1
Dare to Dream – Book 2
Dare to Love – Book 3
Dare to Dance - Book 4
Dare to Live - Book 5
Dare to Breathe - Book 6
The Maxwell Series Boxed Set – Books 1-3
Dare to Kiss Coloring Book Companion
The Vampire SEAL Series:
On the Edge of Humanity – Book 1
On the Edge of Eternity – Book 2
On the Edge of Destiny – Book 3
On the Edge of Misery - Book 4
On the Edge of Infinity - Book 5
The Vampire SEAL Collection - Boxed Set
A Stand Alone Novel
Breaking Rules
Breaking Rules - Chapter 1
MONTANA
I ran down the empty hall of the brick building that I now called my school. Argh! Another new school. Another new town. More strange people to ignore. More teachers to yell at me. More classes to fail. I wanted to scream holy hell at my mother. Actually, I had done just that before I stormed out of the house like a hurricane about to hit this coastal Southern town.
I hated my mom at the moment. We had one of those tense mother-daughter relationships. She was constantly complaining about something I’d done, and I was constantly complaining about her many boyfriends. Granted, it was partly my fault we were on our second move in the last year. I’d gotten expelled from my last school for defacing the walls of the gym with my beautiful artwork. Not only that, I ran with a wild crowd that, according to Mom, was only going to get me in more trouble.
“New York City is full of opportunities for teenagers to get into trouble,” she’d said during an argument.
My response had been, “Then you should’ve thought about that before you decided to live close to your publisher.”
With my tardy note in hand, I skidded to a halt outside my computer science class, when a five-foot girl barreled out, dancing on one foot then the other.
The edge of the door hit me sq
uare in the forehead. The sudden excruciating pain made me wince. “Fuck.” I had a mouth on me, thanks to a couple of my mom’s former boyfriends. Nevertheless, I narrowed my gaze down at the bouncing brown-haired girl.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I have to pee. I have a small bladder.” With a painful expression on her rosy face, she ran down an empty hall, spewing the word “yikes” several times until a door creaked and she was gone.
I held my forehead. No doubt a bruise would be forming. Great! I was officially the new girl with a third eye on her head. I dared anyone to bully me on the subject.
A bald-headed man holding a dry-erase marker greeted me at the door. “May I help you?” he asked in a curt tone.
Jeepers. I didn’t even get, “Are you all right?” Yep, my senior year should be one crazy ride. I mean, if my first day was starting off with a painful bang, I couldn’t imagine how the rest of the day or entire year would even go. All I knew—I was the new kid on the block, and that sucked the big one.
I handed my late slip to the bald-headed man, whose name—Mr. Salvatore—was scripted on my note. He glanced at it then back at me with lines creasing around his dark eyes. “Name?”
“Montana Smith.”
“Well, Ms. Smith, you’re extremely late. Take a seat.” He balled up the note then tossed it in the trash can.
I stifled a yawn as I strode into the room with my hand still attached to my forehead. It was useless to tell the teacher I’d overslept, as did my mom. We’d been up all night, unpacking boxes. Regardless, late was late, and nothing I did or said would correct that.
Beady eyes flickered my way. While other students took my arrival to check their cell phones underneath their desks, I searched for an empty seat and found two. One was in the front row, which wasn’t happening. The other seat was tucked away in the back next to a window. Wow! Pay dirt! At my last school, that seat would have gone for high dollar.
I crossed the room then down the aisle until I reached the empty desk. I was about to drop my backpack at my feet, when the boy in the seat next to mine peered up at me with brooding sea-green eyes and the longest lashes on the planet. I wasn’t exaggerating. His lashes fell to the tip of his strong patrician nose. Maybe I was stretching the truth a bit. I didn’t give a shit. All I saw was a boy with eyes that dampened my panties.
I shuddered, the act snapping me out of the lustful world I lived in. I didn’t ogle guys too much, and I wasn’t a slut, but a girl had needs. Mine were stronger than most, at least among my friends at my last school—the same friends I’d had to say good-bye to. A growl zipped around in my head.
“Ms. Smith.” Mr. Salvatore said my name as though it was a swear word.
I snarled over my shoulder.
He dipped his bald head. “Seat. We’re all waiting on you.”
Well, keep waiting while I admire.
The corner of Gorgeous Brooder’s mouth turned up. Bingo! He liked me. Who wouldn’t like me? I had long, wavy blond hair, the kind that boys liked to run their fingers through. I was sassy. Okay, the spunkiness in me could fill up a high-rise building in New York City. I had no shame. Oh, and I didn’t give two cents about what people thought of me.
“You should sit down,” a girl with a mousy voice said to me from the desk in front of mine. “The teacher will send you to the principal’s office.”
I laughed. Then my mom’s words ran through my head. “Remember, no trouble.” My reply to her had been, “Remember, you promised we would spend time together.”
The teacher cleared his throat.
Gorgeous Brooder Boy, who wore a black T-shirt with the words “Funk You” spray-painted in red, raised a thick eyebrow then lowered it as he sized me up.
Goose bumps bloomed to life over my entire body. I knitted my eyebrows more at myself than at Funk You. Goose bumps were for those girls who got all mushy over a boy. I wasn’t one of those girls. Sure, I loved boys and sex and having a good time, but mushiness and love didn’t fit into my life or vocabulary, not after I’d gotten my heart ripped out of my chest by the only boy I ever loved. Not to mention, I’d seen my mom get hurt too many times when one of her dates dumped her.
Mousy Girl dug her fingers into my arm, breaking me out of my stupor. Instead of snarling at her, I planted my ass in the hard wooden chair.
Mr. Salvatore glared at me one last time before he resumed writing on the dry-erase board.
I stole a look at Funk You to find he was piercing those sea-green eyes of his right through me. What I wouldn’t have given to have his long lashes tickle every part of my body.
I shivered. “What?” I asked in a low voice.
He shook his head, grinning.
I leaned over my desk until my boobs were pressed onto the top. His gaze flew to my cleavage.
“Any parties in this town? Or do you know any taggers?” My fingers itched to show this clean town my colorful graffiti work. However, from the confusion on his face, he clearly didn’t know what a tagger was, or maybe he’d just never seen a set of size C cups before.
I scratched that last thought. As mouthwatering as he was, I would bet he’d had those strong hands or even his thick lips on a set of ta tas. I held back a snort at that last word. I’d always found the boob slang funny, especially when a former beau of my mom’s used the word constantly.
Mousy Girl whipped her blond head around, her ponytail swaying. “Shhh.”
“That bruise on your head is growing,” Funk You said in a Southern drawl.
Automatically, I touched it as I squeezed my thighs together at the sound of his Southern accent, deep and smooth. I would have to thank Small-Bladder Girl for making her mark on me. “It’s nothing.” It hurt like a pisser. I also learned that phrase from one of my mother’s boyfriends. “Back to my question. Parties. Taggers. Music. Dance. Booze. Or is this a dry town like in the movie Footloose?”
Mousy Girl sneered at me with her wide hazel eyes.
“Seriously,” I said to her in a hushed whisper.
At the moment, Mr. Salvatore was oblivious to the class as he wrote the syllabus on the board. It was the start of the school year, and the class already looked bored. Hardly anyone was writing. Bladder Girl came back in with a smile that wrapped around her head. I had to laugh. I knew how it felt when my back teeth were floating and my stomach hurt in pain from a full bladder.
Funk You chuckled. “You always this forward?”
“Do you always brood?”
He lost the gorgeous smile as his light-brown hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes darkened. Or at least I thought they did. Scratch that. Fire burned in their depths.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I tend to be…” I had to think of the word.
“Rude?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I was rude as much as I would say I call it like it is.”
Mr. Salvatore turned around. “In this class, we’ll discuss theory and coding. I will also assign a senior project that you’ll learn more about tomorrow. In addition, we’ll spend one day per week in the computer lab either applying what you learn or working on your project.”
Funk You began doodling in his notebook.
I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest. With my low grade point average, I should have been paying more attention if I wanted to graduate, which I did. My goal for the year was to bury myself in books and study my ass off. At least that was the plan.
“Pouting?” Funk You asked.
I splayed my fingers on my cheek then lowered each one, leaving my middle finger showing.
He chuckled.
While Mr. Salvatore droned on about quizzes and grading, I rubbed my fingers lightly over the growing lump on my forehead.
“Maybe you have a concussion,” Funk You said.
“And maybe you have a stick up your ass.”
“You know what happens to girls with feisty attitudes around these parts, Hannah Montana?”
Heat squeezed the life out of my cheeks, thinking of all the naug
hty things he could do to punish me. But calling me Hannah Montana was enough to flare my nostrils like a bull in a ring. Everyone always thought they were hilarious when they blurted out “Hannah Montana.”
He gave me a wry grin. “I hit a nerve.”
“You know, I thought you were a badass when I first laid eyes on you. I was wrong.” My voice rose. “You’re a dick like the rest of the men on this planet.”
Surprise, surprise. Thirty pairs of eyes, including the teacher’s, were now staring at me.
“Ms. Smith.” Mr. Salvatore’s tone was icy. “I suggest you watch your language, and not another word for the rest of the class. This is your final warning.”
He didn’t need to say “or else.” I knew the next step was heigh-ho, heigh-ho, off to the principal’s office I would go. At my last school, I’d lived in the principal’s office, mostly for mouthing off. Physical fights weren’t my thing. Then again, many students over the years had been afraid of me. Some girl I’d befriended once told me it was my confidence. Maybe so. Or maybe it was my height. I was about five foot eight, slender, big boobs, with a face that got the attention of a modeling agent, if that said anything about my beauty.
As pathetic as it sounds, I was saved by the bell.
Students pounded out of the classroom as though they were headed for a Black Friday sale. Funk You pushed to his feet, watching me the whole time.
“You got a name?” I asked. “It’s not fair you know mine.”
His thick lips split into an amazing smile that practically knocked me out of my chair. “Train Everly.”
I thought about asking him why his parents had named him Train, but I had my own issues with my name. Besides, his name was super cool.
I rose, trying to shake off the aftereffects of the explosion that had rocked my body from the minute I laid eyes on him. Then I began yelling in my head. Guys never affect me the way this dude does.
Dare to Breathe Page 15