Rule Breaker

by Barbara Boswell

  “I love you,” she whispered over and over. “Oh, Rand, I think I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you in the library. At first I tried to fight against it because I was scared of what you made me feel. Of how you made me feel. But now I know that I was born to be with you.”

  Her words touched him. One benefit derived from their courtship was that in knowing her as well as he did now, he knew that she said what she meant and meant what she said. She was in love with him, and the pleasure that filled him at the thought swelled his heart with a tenderness the force of which he had never before experienced.

  “My darling,” he murmured, using that term for the very first time. Not even as Brick Lawson had he allowed one of his heroes to call a woman his darling, because the term had always seemed too—too emotional, too fervent, too intimate for a Brick Lawson man. Just as it was too much of all those things for a Rand Marshall woman.

  But Jamie wasn’t a Rand Marshall woman, she was the woman. Rand Marshall’s woman, his darling.

  And because he wanted tonight, their first time together, to be perfect, for the first time ever, he decided that his own immediate pleasure was secondary to their mutual fulfillment. He reluctantly removed her hand.

  “You’re shooting my good intentions to hell, my sexy little temptress,” he said thickly, hauling her arms above her head to manacle her wrists with one hand.

  She wriggled and playfully tried to break free. “You’re so strong! It feels like I’m caught in a handcuff,” she exclaimed.

  “I’ve got a pair in the drawer,” drawled Rand. “We’ll use them next time. The blindfold, too.”

  He laughed wickedly, and she joined in. “You’re a devil, Rand Marshall,” she accused, then kissed him lovingly, her actions belying her words.

  “And you’re an angel.” He kissed her rapaciously, and her response was just as ardent. “A sexy, beautiful angel,” he breathed.

  She made a small, yearning sound as his hand moved between her thighs and gently caressed the velvety folds. One long finger tenderly explored the hot secrets of her body, penetrating the softness, sampling the wetness. Deeper. Higher.

  “Jamie.” His voice, husky and thick, held a puzzled note. He felt the slight resistance, and her body arched and jerked spasmodically. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” She shook her head vigorously. Her hands caressed him, her lips nibbled a path along the hard tanned column of his neck. How could she put into words her surprise and discovery of the excruciating heat waves of pleasure his stroking fingers evoked? There were no words lyrical enough, sexy enough —

  “You didn’t hurt me at all, Rand,” she breathed softly, clinging to him. A fiery restlessness tore through her, and she arched herself against him in silent invitation. Though she blushed at the audacious things he was doing to her and the boldly wanton things he said, she knew she would die if he didn’t continue.

  Rand stared at her face, her half-closed eyes with the long, dark lashes fluttering, her lips parted as she softly moaned her pleasure. His blood surged hotly in his veins. Observing her pleasure, watching her uninhibited impassioned response to him was incredibly exciting and arousing, almost as good as experiencing his own satisfaction. It was a wholly new concept to him, taking pleasure in someone else’s pleasure.

  He knew he was a good lover technically, able to bring his partners to orgasm, but for the first time ever, he realized how detached and mechanical his lovemaking had been in the past. There had never been this intimate connection he felt with Jamie, this sweet interplay of giving and taking.

  Until now, sex was a purely physical activity for him, with predictable cycles of tension and relief. With Jamie, it was so much more. An outpouring of tenderness, a surge of desire so intertwined with emotion and need he couldn’t begin to separate them. She totally engaged him, body and spirit, mind and heart.

  Under his watchful, passionate eyes, Jamie rapturously surrendered to the coiling spirals of sensation twisting deeper, tighter, under his intimate ministrations.

  “Yes, baby, just let go.” Rand’s voice, husky and rough and sexy, rippled through her, its effects as physical as his caresses. “I want to see you, feel you...”

  The exquisite, aching, throbbing waves of heat radiating through her reached flash point and exploded within her like a shower of sparks. Jamie cried Rand’s name as she floated on the shimmering waves of ecstasy, and he held her tight, watching her with proud, possessive eyes.

  She was his. Suddenly, it all seemed so simple, so inevitable. From the moment they’d met to this moment in the dark, quiet bedroom. Everything that had happened between them, the laughter and the fights, the kisses and the courtship, had all been a necessary part of the natural progression to the here and now, where they would consummate their relationship with all the love and passion that burned between them.

  But first... “Jamie, are you protected? Or shall l take care of it?” he asked softly. He’d never been sexually irresponsible and he wasn’t about to be now, not with his darling Jamie.

  “I guess this time it’ll have to be you.” She gazed at him with love-drugged eyes. She was so new at this, she’d actually managed to forget all about such essential preliminaries. How lucky for her that Rand was so thoughtful.

  Moments later, murmuring sexy, intimate love words, he positioned himself between her thighs and gave a steady, smooth thrust of his hips.

  Jamie drew a sharp breath and clutched his shoulders.

  “Jamie, relax, darling.” He stared into the brilliant blue depths of her eyes. And then he knew. “You’ve never been with a man before, have you, Jamie?”

  She smiled tremulously. “No. Is it—obvious? Am I doing something wrong?”

  She was gazing up at him, her big eyes nervous and uncertain. Rand felt himself melt. “No, sweetheart, of course not. But you should’ve told me this is your first time.” “Would you still have wanted me if I had?” she whispered softly, remembering what he’d said about avoiding virgins and the responsibilities and obligations he felt were inherent in initiating them.

  Rand was remembering, too. “What I said before.. .Jamie, that doesn’t apply to you. What I feel for you...” He paused and tried again. “It’s different with you, Jamie. The same old rules don’t apply, they never have. How can I explain it?”

  He gave his head a shake. He couldn’t begin to put it into words. This was a writer? he silently berated himself.

  She seemed to understand. Touching her mouth to his, she whispered warmly, “I love you, Rand. And I want you so much. Please, please make love to me.”

  She traced his nipple with her fingertips, then her lips, as she gently fondled the pulsing masculine hardness that throbbed hotly in her hand.

  “Jamie!” He moaned her name, tangling his fingers through her hair. He drew her head to him. “Darling, are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said so fervently that they both laughed, soft, easy bedroom laughter that seemed to strengthen the bonds of intimacy.

  They kissed avariciously, then he drove into her satin heat slowly, filling her, stretching her. The creamy warmth of her enveloped him tightly, smoothly. “You’re perfect, Jamie. So sleek and soft and tight.” He lay still, allowing her body to gradually adjust to the presence of his.

  He was her first lover. His mind reeled right along with his senses, which were already whirling with primitive sensuality. Everything she experienced with him would be new; her responses, her pleasure, everything. Instead of appalling him, the realization delighted him.

  “I never dreamed it could be like this,” Jamie whispered, moving her hands over the hard, broad expanse of his back. “Rand, you’re inside me!” The knowledge was aweinspiring; the feelings profound.

  “You feel so wonderful,” he gasped. “Like you were specifically, specially created just for me. Only for me,” he added possessively.

  “I was, I am,” she murmured breathlessly. “Just as you’re made for me.” For he was, she was ce
rtain of that. It had been a long wait for her dream man to arrive in her life, but he had. He was here now, holding her, loving her. “Rand,” she said, sighing.

  And then he began to move, slowly at first, but with a steady, primal rhythm that made her whimper with dizzying pleasure. Obeying ancient feminine instincts that guided her, Jamie began to move in tandem, matching his rhythm with a complementing one of her own, tightening her small inner muscles around him.

  Between them, they generated an explosive heat that hurled them into a hot whirlwind of passion, spinning them up to the sweet planes of rapture. And then, insensate with bliss, they drifted slowly down to the languid, sated seas of satisfaction.

  Again and again during the long, passionate night they made love, reaching for each other in an erotic cycle of arousal and passion, satisfaction and sleep. And each revolving spiral of desire and fulfillment strengthened the powerful sexual bonds between them.

  It was nearly noon when an incessant pounding on the door roused Rand from the deep sleep that had claimed him after an intense, early morning session of lovemaking several hours before. For a few minutes he lay in a mindless stupor, unable to even contemplate moving from the bed.

  Curled up next to him was Jamie, one slim leg curved around his, her arm flung over his chest in possession and trust. She was sleeping soundly, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling softly, matching the rhythm of her slow, even breathing.

  A rush of affection mixed with desire surged through him. She was so sweet, so beautiful, he thought, gazing at her. Her hair was tousled, and the sheet was pulled to her chin. He smiled, wondering how she could manage to simultaneously look so young and innocent and yet so alluring.

  When the pounding at the door ceased, he sighed with relief and prepared to settle back to sleep. Only to have the doorbell begin to ring.

  Cursing to himself, Rand climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb Jamie, who hadn’t even stirred. Poor baby, he had really worn her out—but she had been as eager as he, he reminded himself. She’d initiated their lovemaking at dawn, just as the first rays of sunlight were filtering through the cracks in the black and white blinds. He remembered being awakened by her soft mouth and her caressing hands, and his body began to grow taut in recall.

  The doorbell continued to ring, and he wanted Jamie to rest, so he snatched his white terry-cloth robe from the Lu-cite hook in the bathroom, belted it and padded swiftly to the front door. He half-expected to see some eager children hawking the latest sales item from their school, scout troop or sports team. In this neighborhood he’d learned that someone under twelve was always selling something.

  Reebok rubbed against his ankles, meowing and purring at the same time. “Okay, pal, I’ll get your breakfast in a second.” Rand bent to stroke the small cat’s head. “First let me buy whatever cookies or raffle tickets or magazines it’ll take to send the little pests on their way.”

  He was astonished to find Daniel Wilcox at his door.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” The words were spoken automatically and without even a hint of regret.

  “You made enough racket to wake the dead!” Rand growled. “What are you here for?”

  “I’ve been calling all morning and kept getting a busy signal,” Daniel said testily.

  “That’s because my phone is off the hook. I didn’t want to take any calls this morning.”

  Daniel chose not to respond to that. “Well, I thought I’d take a chance and come by. I have two tickets to the Phillies’ game tonight and wondered if you’d care to join me?” “I have a date, but thanks anyway.”

  “With Jamie Saraceni?” Daniel laughed shortly. “Lately, you seem to have a standing date with her.”

  Rand didn’t feel like discussing his relationship with Jamie, particularly not with Daniel Wilcox. So he shrugged and changed the subject. “How come you don’t have a date tonight, Dan? It’s a holiday weekend, and you always have big plans for any holiday. It’s practically an indisputable law of nature.”

  “Not any more,” grumbled Daniel. “My social life hasn’t been too terrific lately. I’m in a slump.” He scowled. “I don’t understand it. Not even Mary Jane Strayer will go out with me. She claims she’s dating another guy steadily now.” “Why don’t you give your hygienist—what’s her name? Angela?—a call?” Rand suggested. He was feeling benevolent toward the whole world today, even to the point of playing matchmaker.

  “Angela?” Daniel gasped. “You mean me, date Angela Kelso? You can’t be serious!”

  In the bedroom, Jamie came slowly awake, stretching and reaching for Rand. She was naked beneath the soft, silky black and white sheets, and felt languid and sexy and wonderfully voluptuous.

  To her disappointment, Rand wasn’t in bed. He wasn’t even in the room. Her eyes fell on the clock and she gasped softly. Ten after twelve! She was shocked. It couldn’t be; she’d never slept so late in her entire life.

  And then her lips curved into an irrepressible smile. She was entitled to stay abed until noon. After all, she’d spent most of last night doing, saying and feeling things she never had in her entire life.

  Now fully awake, she felt charged with a marvelous energy and starved for breakfast. Hopping out of bed, she spied her clothes scattered on the floor and blushed. There was her blouse, over there was her camisole, and tangled in a heap at the foot of the bed were her jeans and panties. One shoe was over by the door, the other one halfway across the room.

  Unwilling to get dressed without a shower, she peeked in Rand’s big walk-in closet and found a black silk robe to put on. It hung to mid-calf on her, and she belted it tightly and headed out of the bedroom. She heard the sound of voices and figured that Rand had turned the television on, a natural thought for a Saraceni who lived with a TV going eighteen hours a day.

  But then she ascertained that Rand was speaking to someone and she realized that he was either on the phone or—horrors!—talking to a visitor. She came to a dead halt, clutching the lapels of the robe around her. Peering around the corner, she could see Rand standing in the doorway. .. with Daniel Wilcox!

  What was he doing here? She almost asked aloud, so great was her shock at the sight of Daniel Wilcox. She didn’t think he was friendly enough with Rand to drop in uninvited. During the months she and Rand had been dating, they’d only seen him once, at Darby’s, the night of Angela’s birthday.

  “I have the first three weekends in August, and you’re entitled to one of them since you won part one of our bet,” she could hear Daniel saying.

  Their voices carried quite clearly to her place in the hallway, and Jamie stood frozen, unwilling to call attention to herself. She frantically hoped that Daniel Wilcox would wrap up his visit and go!

  “So which weekend do you want, Marsh? Or do you have to consult with Jamie before you dare to express a preference?”

  Jamie frowned at the definitely mocking inflection. She wished that Rand would send Wilcox on his way as swiftly and as rudely as possible!

  But Rand didn’t seem to take offense at Daniel Wilcox’s presence or his snidely caustic tones. He merely shrugged and made no reply.

  “You aren’t going to try to claim the place for the Fourth of July weekend, are you?” Daniel demanded petulantly. “It’s the biggest weekend at the shore all summer, and I’ve already made plans to throw a party, the likes of which you haven’t seen... since my last Fourth of July blast.”

  “Relax, Daniel. The place is yours.”

  “You’re releasing me from the terms of part two of our bet? Or haven’t you won it yet?”

  “Wilcox, for God’s sake, will you shut up!”

  “What am I saying? Of course you won the bet! No woman spends as much time with Rand Marshall as Little Miss Saraceni has without climbing into his bed.” Daniel snickered. “So how was she, Marshall? The least you can do is to let me experience her vicariously.”

  Jamie felt the color drain from her face. It took only seconds for her to piece toget
her their conversation and come up with the horrifying conclusion.

  A bet? She felt as if she was being stabbed in the heart, so physical was the pain that gripped her. Rand had a bet with this cretin about getting her into bed? She wanted to deny it, but her mind was too quick and too reality-oriented to allow her that luxury. She’d heard Daniel Wilcox say it with her own ears.

  Just as she hadn’t heard Rand issue a denial. If it wasn’t true, wouldn’t Rand have been angered, or at the very least, puzzled by the other man’s aspersions? Wouldn’t he have uttered those saving words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about”?

  But he hadn’t said them because he’d made the reprehensible bet! Something about winning Wilcox’s condo at the shore for the Fourth of July weekend if Rand Marshall took Jamie Saraceni to bed. Which he’d done, with resounding success.

  She’d given her virginity to a man who'd taken her to bed on a bet! Jamie felt sick. Her next impulse was to hide, like a cat who’s been hurt and seeks solitude to tend to its wounds. But she couldn’t hide anywhere here; she had to get away. Now. And after she did she would never see Rand Marshall again. She’d never even say his name again.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she choked back a sob. Life without him stretched bleakly before her, all the emptiness and loneliness of missing everything that she had found with him. She would never laugh with him, never hug him or kiss him or make love to him again. There would be no more special smiles and private jokes.

  Her mind seemed to splinter under the impact of the pain, the worst she’d ever felt in her life. So this was what rejection and deception felt like. For the first time she fully understood those brothers who’d come to her seeking vengeance for the hurt Steve’s cavalier rejections had caused their sisters. Watching a loved one suffer this pain would fuel every primitive instinct for revenge.