The Rules of Heartbreak: An Enemies-to-Lovers/Next-Door Neighbor Romance (The Heartbreak Series Book 1)

by Brittany Taylor

  “I don’t,” I insist.

  “I mean, the offer still stands for you to play. Don’t you have some original songs? I bet Sloan could learn them easily.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “No fucking way. You know I can’t.”

  Colton holds up his hands. “Then that’s it. Find me a better solution. Otherwise, Gareth is all I’ve got.”

  I step back, massaging my forehead with my fingertips, and put a hand on my hip. Colton’s sympathy is staring straight back at me from the other side of the counter. I think back to the last time I played my guitar, and my stomach twists upside down.

  “I can’t do it. I can’t play.”

  I can’t stand here anymore, staring at my best friend. There are too many contradictions floating around the room, threatening to swallow both of us. Colton doesn’t feel like he has a choice in hiring Gareth. I refuse to play, leaving Sloan to sing with him. And Colton and I can’t seem to stay on the same page as far as our business is concerned.

  “I’m sorry you feel like I went behind your back, Dallas, but I did what I had to do. Your name may be the face of this bar, but both our lives are in this place. I’m just trying to make it as successful as we thought it would be.”

  “You’re right.” I nod, stepping backward. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been as present as I should be, but this thing with Gareth is fucked up and you know it.” I spin around and push through the kitchen door leading to the dining room. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Rule # 4

  Rules aren’t meant to be broken. So, try not to break them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The longer I stay in Texas, the easier it’s becoming to go through my mother’s things. It’s as if the time I knew her as a stranger, even when I believed her to be dead, somehow pushed me further away from getting to know who she was.

  The mystery made it easier for me to dislike her. She could have been the worst human being on the planet, and I was better off not knowing her. Maybe she was selfish and didn’t do one single good thing in her life. Maybe she betrayed those who cared for her and stole from those who trusted her.

  Believing my mother was a horrible person justified her absence in my life, but living in her house has forced me to get to know the real Ellie. It’s forced me to see the sides of her I refused to face for so long.

  Since moving here, I’ve slowly made my way through each room, sifting through the belongings my mother left behind. I started with the front entrance, changing out the curtains and the paint. I then moved to the kitchen, cleaning all the tools and appliances she left behind. Then I dealt with her bedroom, donating nearly all her clothes. I kept a few pieces I recognized from some of the pictures hanging throughout the house. Keeping those made her even more real, and a small part of me feels like it’s something she would have wanted me to do.

  The only room left in the house is the attic. Three boxes. There are only three boxes sitting in the middle of the narrow space. I pulled one down twenty minutes ago and placed it on the coffee table in my living room. I sit back on the couch and rest my legs on the edge of the table, crossing them at the ankle.

  The box doesn’t look old. The cardboard isn’t faded, and the top flaps aren’t bent to the point of near destruction. There’s a single strip of tape stretched across the top, keeping the nearly perfect flaps shut. The cardboard is blank, no sign of any kind indicating what’s inside.

  I tilt my head and study the box, thinking of all the possibilities of what could be inside. I swallow down my nerves and sit up. I should treat it like a Band-Aid, just rip the whole thing off at once.

  I start to pick at the edge of the tape with my fingernail then there are three knocks on my front door. I leave the box on the table and head that way. When I open it, I find Dallas standing on the other side.

  It’s late afternoon, and the large orange sun paints the sky behind him. His smooth hair is slicked back off his forehead. One single drop of sweat slides down his cheek, rolling over the curve of his sharp jaw. His blue eyes move across my body as if he wasn’t expecting me to actually answer.

  It’s been two hours since I left him at the bar after my meeting with Gareth. I still don’t know if I want to work with Gareth. I didn’t hear him play any songs, and I wasn’t afforded the opportunity to even sing.

  But what bothered me the most was Dallas’ reaction. He couldn’t offer any reasonable explanation as to why he thinks it isn’t a good idea for me to perform with Gareth, leaving me only with a warning to be careful. I don’t even know what that meant.

  The prospect of me working with Gareth bothers him, that I know for sure. He tried not to show it, but I could see it in the way his arms tightened and his eyes shifted to Gareth’s hand as he was saying goodbye.

  Even if I didn’t already suspect Dallas’ hatred for him, I certainly did in that moment.

  “Hey,” I say to him, unsure of where we stand after this afternoon. Nonetheless, I hold the door open for him.

  He walks inside, and I shut it behind him. “Hey.” He clenches his fist at his side but spins around to face me. “I wanted to come over here and talk to you about Gareth.”

  “Shit, Dallas.” I roll my eyes and sigh. This is getting ridiculous. “Isn’t this why we have rule number one? So we don’t involve work in with this?” I wave my hand between us and move to walk past him.

  He grabs my hand, pulling me to a stop. He spins me around and tugs my body against his. “Actually, no. I think you misunderstood the rule. We don’t talk about sex at work, not the other way around.” He reaches up and places his hand against my cheek. His long fingers thread through my hair, pressing against the space behind my ear.

  “What?” I ask him.

  He studies my face, taking his time before speaking. “I never said we couldn’t talk about work.” He clears his throat. “I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea to perform with Gareth.”

  “Duly noted.” I raise one of my eyebrows, confused as to why he’s so insistent. “If it bothers you so much, what do you suggest I do?”

  He considers me for a moment. Then his mouth curls into a devious smirk. It’s enough to make me wet between my thighs. “Sing acapella.”

  I roll my eyes. “Trust me, that is not a better plan.” I laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s a real laugh, the kind I feel blooming in my chest, the kind that makes me realize I’m actually laughing.

  His smirk fades. My breath is taken away when he leans forward, claiming my mouth with his. His kiss is hard and rushed, everything I didn’t know I needed in this moment. Every thought of my mother and singing on stage evaporates the second he coaxes my mouth open with his tongue.

  His tongue slides across mine as he places his hand on the small of my back. Tiny bursts tingle down my spine as his hands explore my body. He slides his fingers underneath the bottom edge of my tank top and pulls up. I break away long enough for him to remove both my shirt and my shorts. He moves quickly, not wasting another moment. He leads me over to the far wall. He pushes me against it, lifting my arms above my head. My fingers slide between his when he grabs my hand, holding it against the wall. His mouth moves from my lips down to my chest. He hooks his fingers into the collar of my tank top, pulling it down to expose my breast.

  He cups it in the palm of his hand, massaging it under his fingertips. He pinches my nipple and twists. The sting causes me to release a hiss between my teeth and heat to spread across my skin.

  Being with Dallas is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. His touch is commanding yet attentive. His fingers ghost along my skin as if it’s the last thing they’ll ever touch. My heart skips a beat as I get lost in him. It’s hard to admit, but I am slowly becoming more invested in this arrangement. The more I get my daily dose of Dallas, the more I want another hit, and another. Then another. I hate that he is changing the way I feel about cutting men off completely, but I also revel in it.

  My body easily and willingly bends t
o his touch. I arch my back when he replaces his fingertips with his mouth. His tongue circles around my nipple before he pulls it in, wrapping his lips around it. He tugs on the tip of my pebbled bud with his teeth.

  He continues working me with his mouth, reaching down between my legs with his hand. His finger immediately finds my clit. I nearly sigh with relief because he didn’t keep me waiting like the last few times his hands were on me.

  “Thank you.” The words spill out of me on weighted breaths.

  “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?” Dallas asks me, breaking his mouth away from my chest. He continues his circles on my clit, slowly increasing his speed. He adds another finger, increasing the pressure, and I push my shorts down the rest of the way, spreading my legs a bit farther than before, allowing him more access.

  “Yes.” I lick my lips, doubting I’ll be able to keep up with a conversation. My thoughts are already starting to float away, disappearing with every stroke of Dallas’ touch.

  “Tell me something, Sloan.”

  Oh no. My legs burst with warmth, and I start bucking my hips against his hand. He rests his palm against me. He’s still holding my arms against the wall.

  “Please, Dallas.” I start moving my legs around his hand and point my toes to the floor, digging into the hardwood.

  “Please, Dallas, what?” he says.

  “I want you inside me. I need to feel you.” I gasp, rocking harder against his hand. “I’m going to come.”

  “I want you to tell me something first.” His fingers slow. “When you left me this morning, did you think about me? Do you remember how it felt to have my dick inside you?”

  My cheeks blush as he pins me with his sinful stare. At first, I almost decide to lie and tell him I don’t, but a feeling in my chest pulls me to tell the truth. “Yes.”

  He loosens his grip on my hands. I lower them and begin to unbuckle his jeans. Once I’ve lowered the zipper, I tug them and his boxer briefs down his waist and thighs. His erection pops free, the tip grazing across my stomach. I grab his length, sliding my hand up and down. His eyes flutter shut, and he groans, his chest trembling with the sound.

  “In the shower…I touched myself and imagined my hand was yours. I imagined you with me under the steaming water. And I thought about the way you fucked me yesterday, wishing it was you in there with me.”

  “Fuck,” he says, opening his eyes. They’ve transformed. His ice blue stare sparks like the blue part of a raging flame. “I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you right now.”

  “Show me,” I tell him.

  His gaze snaps back to mine and my heart skips a beat again, only this time it takes longer to restart again. It’s clear something has shifted with Dallas through the course of the day. Perhaps it was me sneaking out this morning, or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t agreed to not perform with Gareth yet.

  What I think about the most is if he’s so against Gareth playing with me, why wouldn’t he just play himself? He has the power to change it.

  Without hesitating, he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him as he starts carrying me toward the stairs. “Where’s this shower you’re talking about?”

  My wet center presses against him. I lay my arms over his shoulders and run my fingers through his hair. “Second door on the right, through my bedroom.”

  He leads us down the hallway, placing his mouth along my jaw and neck the whole time. Every now and then he pauses, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we don’t hit anything along the way.

  Once we’re inside the bathroom, Dallas walks straight into the shower. It’s a large square space surrounded by three walls of glass. The back wall is covered in tile, where the knob is to turn on the water. Dallas presses me against the tile wall beside it and turns it completely around, setting it as high as it will go. Water shoots out from the head above us. He pulls me back far enough to get us both wet before placing me back against the wall. Steam billows around us, coating the walls of glass.

  “Show me.” He repeats my words from downstairs. For a second, I’m unsure of his meaning, but then I realize when his hand wraps around mine. “I want to watch you.”

  Heat blooms in my cheeks, and it isn’t just from the hot water spraying against us.

  I hesitate. I’ve never touched myself in front of a man before. Not Cole, not anyone.

  But Dallas is different. His confidence in what we’re doing is enough to make me knock down every wall I’ve built around myself. The blue flames in his eyes flicker when he takes a step back. Water soaks his hair. It turns a shade darker, his blue gaze popping below the dark strands resting on his forehead.

  I reach out my hand and swipe my thumb across his bottom lip. “I started by thinking about your mouth…” Water collects on my hand from his lip as I move it down to my center. I slide it between my folds, letting the water mix with my arousal. “…here.”

  Dallas grabs his length and starts stroking himself as he watches me. I bite down on my bottom lip as I increase my movements. I slide my hand forward, pushing one of my fingers inside myself. My palm presses against my clit and I lean back, tilting my head up. I close my eyes, using my other hand to pinch my own nipple.

  “Then I thought about you pushing into me, sliding down until your whole length was inside me.” I move my hand faster, plunging my fingers in and out. I think about Dallas and how our relationship has transformed over the past several weeks. It’s gone from embarrassment to hate to co-workers, and now we’re sleeping together with our own rules tucked into our metaphorical back pockets.

  Dallas’ breath starts to mix with my own heavy breaths. Small groans escape his chest every few seconds, and I know he’s likely to lose himself as quickly as I will.

  “I can’t watch you like this and not feel you.” A warm hand wraps around mine, causing me to open my eyes. My attention is pulled back to Dallas as he steps forward. He dips low enough to wrap his arm around the back of my thigh, lifting it over his hip. I keep my other leg down, pressing my toes into the smooth tile beneath my feet. Hot, steaming water pours down on us, blanketing every inch of our skin.

  Dallas reaches down and grasps his length, centering himself in front of me. He quickly pushes into me, slamming his hips into mine. The feeling overwhelms me, hitting every sensitive part of my body. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, letting the hot water pound against his back as he pulls out of me before pushing back in.

  I gasp and tilt my chin up, closing my eyes. I wrap my hands around the back of his head. His hair is smooth under the water, and I can’t help dragging my nails through it.

  “Come for me, Sloan.” He moves faster, plunging himself into me even deeper. My legs start to quake against him, and there’s a trickle down my spine.

  “Dallas!” I yell his name as I feel my orgasm vibrate through me.

  He rocks his hips a few more times before he finishes. This time he doesn’t pull out of me, now that I’ve told him I’m on birth control. I wrap my arms around him tighter, surprised by how different it feels with him coming inside me. Not only does it enhance the orgasm I’m still coming down from, but it feels more intimate. The feeling catches me off guard. We aren’t supposed to feel intimate. This is strictly sex, but I can’t deny that having Dallas orgasm inside me sends my stomach flipping upside down.

  His face is still buried into my neck, but once his body stops moving against mine, he places his lips to my collarbone before pulling away.

  I lower my leg and rest against the wall. My hair is stuck to my cheeks from the water and Dallas reaches up, tucking the strands behind my ear. He reaches behind me with a grin and grabs my bottle of body wash from the shelf built into the wall. He squirts some in his hand then starts rubbing it across my chest.

  He’s both confusing and intriguing at the same time.

  “What are you doing?” I ask with a smirk.

  “Washing you,” he responds
matter-of-factly. He glides his whole hand across one breast before moving to the next.

  “Fine,” I tell him. I reach behind me to grab the same bottle of body wash and squeeze some into my hand. With a grin, I copy the movements he’s using on me. I start with his chest then move down his stomach. His dick is still partially erect. I wrap my hand around it, sliding my palm up and down his length. It slowly starts to fully harden again, and his lips part as he releases a small gasp of air. The soap makes it easier for me to stroke his length, and it doesn’t take long before he’s as hard as he was before.

  “Sloan.”

  My name falling from his mouth pulls at the part of me I’ve kept buried in the shadows.

  “I—” He starts to speak, but his words fall away and he never finishes. His eyes are closed, and his body is leaning into mine. I stare at him, watching how he reacts to my touch. In the time I’ve known Dallas, I’ve noticed two versions of the man he’s shown himself to be. There’s the hardened one who’s built a solid wall around himself, and then there’s the one who shows slivers of the person I assume he used to be. He’s vulnerable, allowing himself to open up to me long enough to give me a tiny bit.

  But Dallas’ second rule prevents me from learning about the man he was before. I’m not sure he will ever share, no matter how much I might be wishing the circumstances were different.

  Dallas’ hand falls away from my chest and his eyes open. He catches my gaze, pinning me with a stare. There’s a sadness to his pale blue eyes. He’s looking at me as if I’ve somehow wounded him. The expression on his face is somewhat surprising considering the orgasm I just gave him. The longer he stares at me, the more I can read the thoughts going on inside him. His eyes transform under the stream of water. At first, they’re soft, but then they quickly harden.

  Silence falls between us. The only sound that can be heard is the steady stream of water splashing on the tile beneath our feet. I stop stroking him the moment I realize this is it for now. He wants to stop.