Breaking All Her Rules by Maisey Yates Read Free Book Online

than he wanted. In the end, it probably would have been faster and cheaper to walk, but he didn’t like the idea of hoofing it down the streets of Manhattan with a hard-on that probably looked like a crowbar pushing against the front of his jeans.
    Not that it was much better to have something like that while in a cab, but at least he could sit down and pretend it wasn’t happening.
    He drummed his fingers on his thigh, impatience and arousal coursing through him. Why the hell was there traffic at ten at night? If people were out in Pine Ridge Falls at this hour they were just parked in the bar.
    He let out an exasperated sigh, and was about a second from getting out and walking, when the cab stopped in front of an older-looking building with an open convenience store on the bottom floor.
    He handed a large bill to the driver and got out, shutting the door harder than was strictly necessary. Then he took his phone out of his pocket, and selected her number out of the recent-call list. “How do I get in here?” he asked.
    “Oh! Zack?”
    “No. Candygram.”
    “You have to go to the door, it’s next to the store, and kind of set in.”
    He looked around and saw what she was talking about. “Okay.”
    “And I’ll buzz you in. I’m in 3B.”
    “Great.” He heard the buzz and tugged the door open.
    “The elevator is rickety,” she said.
    “I’m good with the stairs,” he said, hanging up.
    He was surprised how old the building was. Surprised that Grace didn’t live somewhere with a shiny lobby and more frills. Though, he did know that rent was inflated beyond reason here. Still, he’d never had a reason to look for a place in the area, so he had no idea just what that meant in a practical way.
    The stairs were narrow and drafty, dirt pushed deep into the grooves between the steps. It was obviously clean overall, but not scrubbed deep. Another testament to the age of the building. It would never sparkle.
    He found himself fascinated by it. The architecture. The lines. It was rooted to the earth in a way other buildings didn’t seem to be. Like it was created rather than built.
    And that made him think of a potential piece. A collection.
    Unusual for him to get any inspiration here. Typically, he needed to be home. Closer to all the past’s poison. He had to kind of wallow in it to feel enough to work sometimes.
    Dammit. He was some kind of clichéd tortured artist. What the hell was that? He blamed it on eating fricking pâté at all these parties. Back at home that crap came out of a cat-food can.
    Which was not what he wanted to be thinking about right now. He wanted to be thinking about Grace. About her soft skin. Her glossy hair. The way it felt to slide deep inside her body.
    Yeah, that was better than pâté.
    He knocked on the door with the correct number/letter combination, then heard locks jiggling before it opened to reveal Grace, hastily tucking her hair into a bun.
    “Are you primping?”
    Her eyes rounded. “Yeah.”
    “Why?”
    “Because.”
    “I’m going to take it down, you know.”
    She leaned into the door, her posture a poor attempt at casual. “Yeah but...I don’t ever wear it down so...so it seemed like I should pin it up.”
    She was wearing a purple dress that formed to her slight curves, a black ribbon tied around her slender waist. She had stockings on. He had some serious opinions on which kind they should be.
    “No need to dress for me, darlin’,” he said. “But I do appreciate it.”
    “You are...in a suit,” she said, looking him over slowly.
    He looked down. “Oh. Yeah. I was at a thing.”
    “You said you weren’t busy.”
    “I wasn’t. I was bored.”
    “You were bored.”
    “Industry stuff.”
    “So you left an important industry event to come here and witness the lowest low my personal restraint has ever experienced?” she asked, arching a brow.
    “Are you going to invite me in or do I have to stay in this incredibly narrow hallway all night. Because I