Rule Breaker by Harper Kincaid

Just one more can’t hurt…right?

Re-belle-ious, free-spirited Lauren Renwick has decided it’s time to trade her wings for roots. That means no more bad boys, no more foolish choices. Yet when she’s stood up on New Year’s Eve, her resolution to stick to her Mama’s Rules for Dating weakens. Especially when she spots sex-in-leather-and-tattoos, Jackson Sullivan.

One look at Lauren, and Jackson is hell-bent on getting her on the back of his Harley and riding straight for his bed. Their night together is an erotic rush that has a new word popping up on his horizon—forever. 

Lauren tries to convince herself he’s just one last fling to get bad boys out of her system, yet she finds herself falling hard and fast for a man with a stalker ex and a meddling Irish family. Plus, he has zero chance of passing her uptight parents’ inspection.

Jackson has Lauren’s back, but if she wants all of his heart, she’ll have to meet him halfway—by ditching rules that hold her prisoner, and learning to stand up for what she really wants.

Warning: Contains several highly practical rules for dating—all of which will be broken in the most wicked ways possible, thanks to a domineering alpha male who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it...rules be damned.

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Excerpt (Explicit)

By the pool table were a bunch of rough-as-leather motorcycle riders, getting loud and throwing down bets on the pool table. There were more than a couple of hookups going on in the darkened corners with the occasional flash of flesh making an appearance. Even though I was surprised by the blatant PDA, I also couldn’t help but envy them. At least they had someone worth sweating with on New Year’s Eve.

I straightened my dress and glanced up, only to find the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen walking straight toward me. His gaze was intense, and he was tall with broad shoulders that ate up the space around him as he moved. His hair was jet black and even with the poor lighting, I could tell it was glossy like silk. I liked that it wasn’t too long or too short, and it had this sexy, messy way about it, like he just rolled out of bed after having mind-blowing sex. I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but I could still determine he had an amazing mouth and a rugged face. Pure masculine beauty, wearing faded blue jeans, a henley shirt that was snug enough to highlight his muscular frame, and well-worn motorcycle boots.

Bad-boy sex on legs.

Exactly the kind of man I was trying to avoid those days.

He was totally gorgeous and definitely intense, with the way he stared at me like a gazelle on an open plain that was seconds away from being devoured. Nothing was distracting him from getting from across the room right to me.

As he approached where I was seated, he gave the bartender a quick chin lift. The bartender reciprocated the manly greeting, poured a finger of whiskey in a glass and handed it to him. I noticed that even when Mr. Sex on Legs reached for his drink, he did it without taking his eyes off me for a second.

“Hey,” he said with a voice as rough as gravel. “What’s your name?”

Oh sweet Jesus, don’t tempt me with a rough-and-ready biker god who is on a well-acquainted, knows-my-drink-without-asking basis with the bartender. Bad enough he exuded sex and sin, which was my weakness. Definitely didn’t need a man with Johnny Walker or Jim Beam riding on his back.

I gave him a perfunctory glance. “Doesn’t matter my name. I’m not staying here long enough for us to get acquainted.”

Two of his fingers propped my chin up, forcing me to look at him. Damn it, he really was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He had blue eyes. No, not just blue eyes, but go-on-vacation-and-do-laps-in-the-warm-Caribbean-Ocean blue eyes. And those eyes were scalding hot on me, burning me whole. And I knew that look. It meant I needed to get out of there, fast, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to escape the smoldering, hot-guy tractor beam that was pulling me in.

“Listen.” I sighed, trying my hardest to pretend he had no effect on me. I backed my chin away from his hand. “You are definitely a scrumptious treat, but I’m not sampling tonight, if you get my meaning. Nothing personal.”

He threw his head back and laughed loud and deep, the vibration humming through my body.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous and funny. Makes it even better.”

“Um.” I stalled, feeling confused. “Makes what better?”

He looked at me as if the answer were obvious. “The promise of you, babe.”

He took a sip of his drink and waited patiently for my response, which I couldn’t give him, wouldn’t give him, because the last thing I wanted was for him to hear in my shaky voice how his eyes, his words, his smoldering looks were affecting me, making me flush all over. Like a goddamn schoolgirl.

His were not the only eyes on me. I could feel a different kind of heat, the fury of women who wanted me dead. Across the room a bunch of them were seated at some of the rounds and in the booths, and they’d been watching us intently ever since he crossed the room to me.

“Wouldn’t one of your biker babes—” I pointed over to the herd with my chin, “—be a better bet to score with before midnight? They certainly seem…anxious that you’re over here.”

He smirked, his gaze traveling from my eyes to my mouth and back. “That’s like shooting fish in a barrel. No fun in that.”

“I get the feeling they think you belong to them. And the way the barkeep knows your drink tells me you’ve hung out on these barstools way more than I’m comfortable with. Again, nothing personal, but I’m going to make sure this year is the year I start living right. And gorgeous?” I drawled while placing my hand on my hip. “You’ve got bad decision written all over you.”

I was so busy with my rant that I hadn’t really noticed that instead of getting angered or defeated, Mr. Sex on Legs was actually getting off on my attitude, and I knew that because the playful glimmer in his eye turned molten and dark.

He leaned toward me, coming close enough for me to catch the glorious musky scent that I knew was his alone. Suddenly I felt his warm hand at the nape of my neck, holding me firmly, with his thumb pressing into the pulse point on my throat.

“Gorgeous, funny and feisty. And feisty usually means sharp as a tack.” His fingers started caressing the back of my neck, and I bit my lip to quell the moan rising through me. He kept talking. “Although you’re wrong about the barfly assumption. I own this place, so it serves Robby here well to know my drink.” His hand came up, he threaded his fingers through my hair and his deep, rough voice ran through me, like liquid smoke and fire.

“Can’t imagine what sort of fucked-up happened to you tonight to end up here, but not gonna complain seeing as your bad luck will end up being real good for me.” His gaze slowly traveled the length of me. “So, darlin’, gonna tell me your name already?”

I knew this was my cue to tell him my name and offer some pithy response. But not only did I have nothing, I chickened out, muttered a quick apology and took off for the bathroom.

I did my business and splashed cold water on my heated face. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and leaned my palms and my weight against the porcelain sink, mortified to go back out there again. The only thing positive about my predicament was that the humiliation sobered me right up. Now all I had to do was go back, settle my tab and get the heck out of there.

Is that what you really want? a small voice inside me asked. I had to admit that I was curious about this man. He intrigued me, and I was glad to feel a hum under my skin and between my legs when I was with him. Certainly hadn’t felt anything close to that with Keith over the last several months.

I stood there and let my mind wander off, wondering if the skin on his fingers was smooth or calloused, hoping for the latter because I really liked the way rough hands and fingers felt against my silken, wet center.

Jesus, Lauren, panting much? Get. A. Grip.

I liked men, but it took more than a handsome face to get me this wound up. They had to be wicked smart and confident. Even though he seemed completely at home in his bar, there was something about him that seemed different, like there was more to him than being a reckless biker. Of course I had nothing to substantiate my hunch, but I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so drawn to someone on first sight. Maybe never before.

After I dried my hands and face, I opened the bathroom door, only to feel someone grab me by my upper arm and drag me off so fast, I didn’t realize what was happening. A side door opened and closed with me on the other side.

The room was dark, except for the moonlight coming in from a window on the other side. As soon as my eyes adjusted, I could see I was in a long and narrow room with some restaurant supplies. Standing in front of me was my blue-eyed troublemaker. Now, he was holding me by the arm and he was close. Very close.

Truth time? I loved the idea of this beautiful man coming after me. But I didn’t want him to see that, to know the effect he had on my mind and body.

He hadn’t earned it.

So I covered desire with insolence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I barked at him, giving off as much attitude as I could muster, which wasn’t easy because being this close meant I caught his scent, and it was a mixture of musk and whisky. Pure man. Now I was even more lightheaded than before.

His mouth twitched, and I knew he’d caught me taking him in. “Babe, you know exactly what I’m doin’.” He stepped even more into my space. “Tell me your name, gorgeous. I’m not asking again.”

I took a step back and placed one hand on the wall behind me to steady myself. “Lauren,” I squeaked out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m Lauren. And what’s your name?”

A ghost of a smile appeared and his velvet tongue slowly licked his bottom lip. “Plan on screaming my name out when I make you come for me?”

Holy shit. Did he just say that to me? My brain despised his arrogance, but my body ignited, making my skin burn hot. My heartbeat accelerated, beating out of my chest so loudly I wondered if he could hear it. I wanted him, badly, but I was embarrassed that he knew it. One look at his self-assured mug told me all I needed to know: he saw and he conquered and he never heard the word no. He didn’t even have to pretend to woo a woman—just grab her and take what he wanted.

And I was twenty-seven years old, with wonderful friends and a great job, but a shit track record when it came to men. Bad boys, like the one in front of me, may have known how to work my body, but they had also bruised my heart and soul. It was New Year’s Eve. Maybe my New Year’s resolution should have been no more men since I obviously didn’t know how to find a good one.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “I don’t need to know your name. In fact, I don’t need to know you.”

I ripped my arm out of his grasp and turned toward the door.

I was just about to place my hand on the doorknob when one of his steel arms surrounded my waist and pulled me to him.

“Don’t go yet, Lauren. Please.”

When I heard him say my name and his quiet plea, any trace of anger just melted away. My body relaxed against his and he moved my hair off my shoulder with his other hand, tucking a stray strand behind my ear. A flood of wet desire invaded the folds of my cleft when his soft lips grazed my skin, and then his mouth clasped on my earlobe. My nipples hardened, and my breath came out erratically. My body shivered because, somehow, this stranger knew exactly where to touch me to turn me on.

“Lauren,” he whispered. “We’re not done yet.”

“I should go, but…ohmygod, that feels really good,” I moaned, my body awakening from a deep sleep. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had ignited my desire so fast. Every sweep of his tongue on my skin burned me in the best possible way. I pressed my back to his front and shimmied my bottom against his jeans-clad erection. He sucked in a harsh breath, and I knew I was getting to him as much as he was getting to me.

“You know how I know we’re not done?” He practically growled against my skin. “Because I haven’t made you come yet. And Lauren, I really need to make you come.”

“I want…I need you to.” I was practically panting now. “Make me come.”

Then his right hand roughly hoisted up my dress and his fingers plunged into my underwear. They slid straight down and started playing with my clit, which was swollen with need and heat. And goddamn, he had calloused fingertips, creating the most delicious friction against my slick velvet core.

I gasped loudly as my head flew back, absorbing the trembling waves those circling fingers were making by touching me so perfectly. I let out a low moan and turned my head in his direction and he immediately seized my mouth with his, sucking me into him, devouring me with every pull of his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Fuck, you are so wet for me.”

He increased his pace, speaking into my ear in a low rumble.

“Noticed you the second you walked in here.” He plunged two fingers deep into me while circling my clit with his thumb. I let out a whimper that vibrated through me, and if he hadn’t been holding me up, my legs would have given way. “Heard you sassing my bartender, showing off your fucking gorgeous tits, walking around like you owned the place. And I knew I had to have me a taste.”

Just then he stopped rubbing and something between a cry and a mew escaped me. I opened my eyes in time to see him taking the two fingers that had just been inside me into his mouth, tasting my juices on his tongue. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

Suddenly he turned me around to face him, lifting my dress again and tugging down my panties. My back was now against the door as he dropped to his knees in front of me and buried his face between my legs, rolling his tongue through my folds and sucking on my clit.

Mind-numbing pleasure radiated throughout my body, and I wove my fingers through his hair, which was just as soft and touchable as it had looked from far away. He pushed into me and lifted my legs off the floor and over his shoulders. His tongue flickered lightning hot and fast over my nub and my hips gyrated in response, as I lost all inhibition. His fingers clawed the cheeks of my ass as my hands fisted his hair. I was dancing right on the edge, so close to coming, and then he sucked hard on my clit, turning my low moans into a fevered scream of ecstasy. My orgasm crashed over me, sending me off the edge and into floating weightlessness.

Then he moved, placing my feet gently on the ground, and with that, the realization of what just happened ripped through my endorphin-filled haze. I had just let a complete stranger touch and taste me in the most intimate way possible. And I didn’t even know his name.

About the Author

Born in California and raised in South Florida, I've moved around like a gypsy with a bounty on my head ever since. Along the way, I worked as a community organizer, a professional matchmaker, a popular blogger, and a crisis counselor (to name a few). All the while, longing to have the guts to do what I really wanted: to write and become a published author. That wish has finally come true and I feel like a karmic cloud has been lifted off my head. Those of you who have also taken a circuitous route in trying to find their path get me - I can tell.

What else? Hmm... I love indie, lo-fi, complaint rock played on vinyl, wearing black because it's slimming, the theater, well-informed optimism, happy endings (both kinds), and making those close to me laugh 'til they snort. I'm a self-admitted change junkie, loving new experiences and places, but have now happily settled in the cutest lil' town, Vienna, Virginia, with my awesome and patient husband and two kick-ass girls.  

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