Rule's Seduction

by Lynda Chance

  In a heartbeat, his goal of revenge found itself relegated to the back of his mind as a need for seduction took precedence, although it caused a sharp edge of guilt to cut into him. Oh, he’d get satisfaction for the past—twenty-three years ago, the very foundations of his family had been shattered by the Rule family patriarch. The man’s actions, his arrogance, his selfishness had led to devastating loss, irreparable damage and social shame, creating the burning need for venganza that had since become Max’s reason for living. He’d been a teenager at the time and as much as he’d tried, he couldn’t let the slight against his family go unanswered—certainly not while the innocent product of Gordon Rule’s machinations lived so close by.

  Yes, the Rules had something coming to them—and what better way to pay the fuckers back than to take their cossetted princess for himself?

  As he continued to watch her with a preoccupation that he wasn’t comfortable with, he forced himself to remember—la familia meant everything to him. He admitted that it rankled that he was drawn to the Rule girl for more than just the vendetta. It wasn’t right that he wasn’t on his game—his late father deserved more from him than to be swayed by a beautiful face. He cracked his knuckles as he brought his wayward thoughts into order. He had to remember—he had to stay focused on his goal.

  His father had been a good parent—he’d always been there for Max after his mother had died so early in his youth. The man’s deathbed words came back to him; it had been a defining moment in his life. As the somber memory washed over him, he knew what he had to do—he would respect those words—he would fulfill his father’s last wishes, if it was the last thing he did. He took a deep breath, more determined than ever.

  As he brought his priorities back into order, he let his eyes roam over Erin Rule once again. He continued to carelessly eye-fuck the beautiful profile she’d presented him with, contemplating her attraction. Certainly her sexiness had a lot to do with his personal interest, but it was more than that. It was the air of detachment she exuded, the way she couldn’t care less that she was sitting alone in a crowded restaurant for everyone to observe. It was the confident way she’d glanced at him in the mirror and found him staring at her. It was the way she’d then raised a single, delicate eyebrow that screamed, ‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ before she had dismissed him by turning away and taking a sip of her drink—and she took that sip with an air of appreciation that told him that the liquor she was consuming was sliding through her veins with a warmth that was almost making him feel jealous.

  Yeah. He wanted to make her feel like that. He wanted to make that flow of warmth slide through her system. She was so damn confident—she drank her liquor like she appreciated the taste, almost like a man would. He cut off a rough laugh when he realized abruptly that that was where the comparison to a man stopped. Erin Rule might appreciate her liquor, but she drank it like a girl … through a straw.

  Even now, he realized that she was perfectly aware that he still watched her as she slid the straw from her drink and dangled it between her fingers before putting it between her lips in a show of exaggerated taunting unlike any he’d ever come up against. Oh, fuck yeah, she knew he was watching her. Was he creaming her panties the way she was hardening his cock?

  The question made his lips quirk and brought his feet to the floor, even though his brain was telling him it was too soon to make the move. Ignoring the banging in his head that was reminding him that he had a role to play, a script to follow, he turned and strode the seven steps that brought him to her table, where he stood across from her, looking down into her beautiful, bold features. Features that made him want to unilaterally forget his itinerary for revenge and focus solely on the blueness she was producing in his balls. He’d take both—revenge and relief.

  She lifted her face and shot him a perturbed look before arching that single, cocky eyebrow once again, focusing on him and dismissing him with a roll of her eyes. Dark pink lips opened as she released the straw slowly from between even, perfectly white teeth and then she drawled in a low, husky cadence that had his cock screaming for attention, “Go. Away.”

  Yeah, he either needed to blister her ass or sink inside her wet heat. Soon. Instead, he lifted his brow before throwing out his own challenge. “Not happening, pretty. Your bill’s been settled.” Without wasting another second, he crossed the last few inches that brought him within her personal space and stood next to her chair. “Let’s get out of here. You know you want to.”

  At his admittedly over-the-top challenge, a trickle of disbelieving laughter left her throat as she shook her head, making her hair flow around her shoulders like a sheet of dark silk, tantalizing him almost beyond control. “I don’t think so.”

  “I paid your bill,” he reiterated, loving the challenge she represented.

  She continued to look at him dismissively, a look that was making it physically difficult for him to keep his hands to himself.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, already enjoying the game more than he was comfortable with, under the circumstances. “You don’t think I paid your bill?”

  With eyes that sparkled, she looked him up and down before slowly enunciating, “I imagine you did. That doesn’t mean I’m leaving with you.”

  He’d known she wouldn’t walk out of the restaurant with him readily, but he’d felt the need to shock her anyway. But by all evidence, she didn’t shock so easily—and damn if that didn’t please him. Not waiting for permission, he pulled out the chair next to hers and lowered his body into it, motioning for the waiter as he asked her, “You meeting someone?”

  Her long hair swung out in another wave of dark silk as she looked to the entrance and then back again. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Somebody had the sheer stupidity to stand you up?”

  Her eyes came back to his, snapping a heated fire. “Now why would you think I’ve been stood up?” she asked in an exaggerated Midwest drawl that inflamed his erection.

  He shrugged a shoulder and reached out, snagged her straw and stuck it between his teeth. He made the move overtly, grasping the same end with his teeth that had just been between her lips. Her eyes flared at his action, sending a rush of gratification through him. “Maker’s?” he asked, rolling the straw between his lips with his tongue, holding her eyes with his.

  She glanced at the straw for a few seconds, almost as if she was suddenly dazed, and a vicious hit of satisfaction heated his blood as he looked down the feminine curves of her body. She was going to be tight—he knew it already and could hardly fucking wait. Slowly, her gaze left the straw he still held between his teeth as her eyes flashed wickedly. “Yeah, Maker’s—you can’t possibly know your bourbon that well,” she challenged. “You either watched him make my drink,” she tipped her head to the bartender, “or you asked him.”

  Although her taste in bourbon was information he’d been privy to before he’d arrived in Las Vegas, he inclined his head and said, “I watched him. And it tastes good.” He focused on her lips before spearing her eyes once again. “Better than I remember.”

  Of course, he was implying that it was her taste on the straw that was doing it for him, and she seemed to freeze at the implication of his words, a response that he knew was reflexive and not one she probably cared for. As a soft blush bloomed on her cheekbones, a blush that he instinctively knew she hated, the reason he was stalking her became secondary. There was no question that he wanted satisfaction against her family, but now, more compelling than that, was the need he felt to pin her down naked to a flat surface.

  Was it because she was a Rule? Did that make her more enticing to him? The answer that came to him was no, her family ties had nothing to do with his compulsion to find a place where they could be alone so that he could strip her naked. It was all her.

  While he admitted the truth to himself, she remained silent, mixed messages shooting from her eyes. He took the straw from his lips and put it back in her glass, another small intimacy he felt th
e need for—mixing his bodily fluids with hers—even in this small way.

  Unable to resist touching her, in fact feeling a compulsion he had no intention of fighting, he reached across the space that divided them and held out his right hand. “Max Santiago.” While his number one purpose was to maneuver her into being alone with him, he still had enough snap to know he needed to remain somewhat incognito. She very well might be acquainted with the Villarreal name, and if so, his reputation.

  She glanced down at his hand, and slowly, her tongue came out and she licked her lips before placing her palm precisely in his—as if making a carefully considered decision. “Erin Rule.”

  As he touched her for the first time, a wave of possession overcame him, almost flooring him; it was now only a matter of time before he owned her completely, but he had to keep his reactions in check—he didn’t own her yet. He shook her hand, enjoying the soft feel of her skin, then released it and quickly exchanged it for her left hand, which he’d already known would be ring-free. She let out a semi-startled breath at his quick maneuver, so he loosened his hold somewhat, not wanting to push too hard, at least for the moment. “Just checking for rings, sweetheart. No need to panic. There can only be two people involved in what I have planned for us.”

  Her pulse showed in her throat and he knew she was trying to regain control of a situation that was spiraling away from her. “You’re cocky,” she snapped from lips that glimmered.

  He smiled demonically and retaliated quickly. “You’re beautiful.”

  Her eyes narrowed even as interest radiated from them. “Does this approach usually work for you?”

  “It’s not my habit to fail, if that’s what you’re asking me,” he boasted without hesitation.

  Her eyes sharpened. “Well, I repeat, I’m not leaving with you.”

  “All right—that’s a fair warning. You’re wrong, of course, but I’m going to give you credit for a fair warning,” he said with a half-smile that he forced to his lips. Play the part, Villarreal. Tease her—make her think she has a damn choice in the matter.

  “Now you’re being arrogant as well as cocky.”

  “Yeah?” He casually looked around before focusing on her brown eyes once again, the hint of challenge in his voice something he couldn’t contain. “How else do you suppose I should go about getting what I want?”

  She began shaking her head, not as if she didn’t know how to answer, but as if she were turning him down, looking at him from underneath her eyelashes with just enough rejection to make him even more determined. He wanted to get back at the Rule family, yeah, but even if that weren’t his main concern, this girl would tempt him no matter what the circumstances.

  “You’re delusional,” she enunciated clearly.

  “I’m honest,” he shot back, knowing he was being anything but.

  “You’re cocky and arrogant and too damn bold for your own good.” Her gaze drifted to his lips for a second, filling Max with heat, letting him know that no matter how much she was fighting it, she was feeling the sexual pull as well. “But you are good-looking, I’ll give you that,” she stated with sexy, narrowed eyes.

  Her words confirmed her sexual interest, and even though every instinct he possessed was demanding that he extract her from the restaurant and get her on his private jet—willing or not—he steeled his guts and answered as non-threateningly as he could manage. “Honey, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. At least you’ve noticed me.” Fuck—he sounded like a prick. How long could he possibly keep up this bullshit?

  She refrained from answering so he continued, “We’re in Las Vegas, sweetness. Who or what could it possibly harm if we spent some time together? You’re not married, are you?” He forced himself to frown, continuing to play his role, knowing damn good and well that her single status was the only reason he was allowing himself to move in the direction he was going.

  “No,” she answered curtly.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

  She rolled her eyes before snapping, “No.”

  “Well, then, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, isn’t that what they say?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard,” she said neutrally.

  “And now you’ll get to experience it—with me.”

  She remained silent but continued to stare at him with those erection-inducing eyes while swallowing another sip of her Maker’s.

  Shit. The kitten was going to make him work to get in her pants? Suddenly the ante was upped, making the game more exciting, more sexually charged than he’d anticipated—and it could only get better from here. Fuck, yeah. Bring it on.

  ****

  Chapter Two

  He was even better looking up close, the bastard. And the son-of-a-bitch knew it, of course. His eyes were a deep, dark brown, intense. They stared into hers as if he could simply snap his fingers and she’d fall to the nearest flat surface with her legs spread wide. He stared at her as if he already knew what it felt like to sink inside of her—and wanted to do it again. A rush of heat bled down her spine and settled in her belly as they continued to watch each other.

  And why deny it? She’d love to sleep with him. Even now, she was aching for it, damn it…damn him. He smelled positively delicious. She couldn’t put a label on the scent, or even begin to describe it, but it was an addictive scent, an erotic scent, a scent that made her feel … safe?

  WTF? Safe? Where the hell had that come from? The dude was anything but safe. He was sex personified, with a bold dash of scary thrown in for good measure. He thought he was fooling her—he thought he was going slow, being a gentleman, he thought he was holding himself back as not to alarm her. It was too late, she already had his number.

  Even if she hadn’t possessed three brothers who were exactly like him, she still would have been jolted by his … his what? His primal attributes. Attributes. Sure. Why the hell not call them attributes? Every normal guy in the world wanted to have what this man possessed in spades. Good looks. A dominant personality. Obvious wealth. And the self-confidence that went with those things. Yeah, it was too late to try to calm her. The alarm bells had been ringing since the moment she’d glanced up and seen him watching her in the mirror. He was everything she fantasized about—and even now—she was beginning to argue with herself. Seriously, who would know if she acted out of character? Who would ever know if she slept with him? She certainly wouldn’t brag about having a one-night stand in Las Vegas, so who would ever know and did it really matter if anyone found out?

  He was, indisputably, the perfect specimen to let loose with. Already, her insides were heating up, and every time he put his arm on the back of her chair or touched her hand or moved a few inches closer, a seismic shift would make her body tremble and her blood start pumping faster.

  He’d be able to give her a mind-blowing orgasm. She knew he would. Damn—she needed a mind-blowing orgasm. She liked a mind-blowing orgasm—she wanted one—she deserved one.

  With her insides more shaky than she’d like, she continued to debate the obvious choice in front of her. When in her life had she ever taken anything just for herself? She hadn’t, really, and maybe it was time. Actually, it was the perfect time. After all, she’d just had a great trip. Granted, she’d attended the trade show in her role with the Rule Corporation, but she’d had an amazing time and made so many contacts in the design industry that she was on top of the world.

  Her estrogen levels seemed to skyrocket with the thought. Yeah, maybe the man in front of her wanted to get her naked, but damn if she didn’t want to get him naked, too.

  It was going to happen. She was going to let it happen. Not because he was steamrolling her, but because she deserved this. With that last thought, she released a deep breath and let the feelings he induced within her take over her senses.

  ****

  Erin hadn’t had any more alcohol, so when she stumbled on her own two feet several hours later as Max led her into the elevator and then down the hall that
led to his hotel room, she had only herself to blame.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in that dark, intense rumble she was slowly beginning to recognize.

  “Yeah.”

  He rounded a corner, his hand under her elbow, and came to a halt outside a door marked Penthouse 1. Sliding his keycard down, he opened the door with a snap and ushered her inside a massive, extravagantly expensive suite. She knew how much a stay like this cost; her brothers’ wealth had become very much a part of her own life, whether she cared to have it or not.

  He shut and bolted the door, and before she could even take a breath, he placed his hands on her waist and swiveled her until her back was against the wall. His hips came forward with a forceful, sexual maneuver and pressed against her stomach, his erection undeniably hard and ready. Her eyes flew to his face; she saw his jaw clench, one hard, masculine hand sinking into her hair as his other arm wrapped around her waist like a band of steel.

  Nerves and sexual attraction hit her hard, making her stomach flip. He watched her with a dark, impenetrable gaze while his fingers tightened around her scalp. His words when they came were short and clipped. “I need to warn you about the way I fuck.” He bared his teeth and a frisson of shock bled down Erin’s spine as he continued, “The last thing I want is for you to run screaming from here, as if you have no control over the situation.”

  She sucked in a steadying breath at both his words and the sheer seriousness of his tone. The realization hit her that the abrupt change in his personality was because they were completely alone now. “Okay,” she managed.

  He braced his legs and gritted his teeth, coming impossibly closer, even though he’d already obliterated any personal space she might have had left. His eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared, his words coming swift and forceful, “I’m going to fuck you like I mean it, sweetness. It’s not going to be soft and gentle and romantic—I’m not into shit like that. I’m going to strip you bare-assed naked and I’m going to fuck you like I’ve been dying to since I first saw your reflection in that mirror.”