Breaking the Rules (The Dating Playbook #2)

by Mariah Dietz

her eyes closed again. I stand, keeping the pressure with my fingers, moving my other hand to brush over her full lips, pulling her bottom lip down, and then kissing her, her taste still fresh against my tongue as I find hers.

I circle her clit and then dip my fingers back into her, creating a rhythm that she responds to with harsh breaths I silence with my mouth. She grips me, her fingers constricting, her hips slipping farther. I grasp her hip, hol...

Raegan’s hips jerk as I swipe along her clit again, sensitive from the orgasm. I kiss her again and then pull back, admiring the flush on her cheeks and the desire still shining bright in her eyes. I kiss her once more. “Ne...

“Lincoln, this…. We’re… This doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change anything.” I pull my hoodie over my head. “We just crossed the mother fucking Rubicon. Everything’s changed.” I slide my fingers across her wet lips. “Everything.”

"What does it mean to cross the Rubicon? Irrevocably commit to a course of action, make a fateful and final decision. For example, Once he submitted his resignation, he had crossed the Rubicon. This phrase alludes to Julius Caesar'scrossing the Rubicon River (between Italy and Gaul) in 49 b.c., thereby starting a war against Pompey and the Roman Senate."

I still feel Lincoln, even after I’ve showered and dressed. I attempt to distract myself by blow-drying my hair, but each time I look at a space of the narrow bathroom, I picture him on his knees, worshipping my body. I just had a toe-curling, mind-numbing orgasm. From my brother’s best friend. In their shared house. In the wake of my father’s publicized affair and my mom leaving for New York. I’m totally going to Hell.

I swallow. I breathe. I strive to ignore the niggling of thoughts that want to think about Lincoln—consider if he would ever be caught with me in a rainstorm and laugh. If he’d ever look at me like I was his axis like this man looks at the woman in front of him.

For you? Yeah, I think he would.

Her lack of expectations is one of the most freeing things about being around her, but it’s also something that concerns me far more than I would have ever assumed because, without expectations, it means she doesn’t believe in me—believe in us.

This is the side of Lincoln that makes me feel like jelly. Like my heart and feet are both levitating. Like this bond between us might be genuine and as authentic as my fears. It’s the strength he exudes, how relaxed and at ease he is even when he’s the target. It does something weird to my thoughts and emotions and has me believing that even in the worst situation, he’d be able to protect me from the cruelest parts of this world. In the past month, he’s opened the shades, allowing me to see through windows that reveal his past, and this feels like a highway.

One of the players from our team is talking to Raegan. It’s benign and friendly, her posture expressing ease. Juan follows my gaze and then turns back to me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you give googly eyes to some chick.” “She’s different, and she’s definitely not some chick.”

My feelings for her are being held back by what feels like a simple piece of tape. It’s flimsy, and transparent, and has no chance of holding everything back.

I place a hand on her shoulder, realizing these past ninety minutes are merely a piece of tape for her as well. I don’t have the right words, I’m not sure they even exist, but I pull her toward me, wrapping my arms around her back, feeling each rigid muscle. I stroke a hand over her hair, brushing it behind her ear. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

Her refusal to be swallowed by this situation is proof that she fought just as hard as the doctors who worked to save her. Raegan Lawson is many things, but fighter is at the top of her list.

“I came every fucking night to see you.”

“I need you. I need you to stay here and have some fucking self-preservation. I need you in ways I’ve never needed anyone—in ways that scare the shit out of me. I need you because I don’t feel like myself without you.” I can’t even manage to regret my admission because it’s a thin shave off the surface of my feelings and thoughts.

I slide my tongue along hers, demanding everything she has to offer while giving what’s left of me that she hasn’t already taken. I press against her, so close that doubt can’t reach either of us as we lose ourselves in this kiss that I know will define the rest of my days.

She grabs the bottom of my sweatshirt, tugging it upward, her fingers cold as they graze my skin. I press a searing kiss to her mouth, taking her bottom lip between my teeth before I pull away to rid my sweatshirt and tee, dropping them to the floor. Her fingers brush over my chest, my stomach, my shoulders. Her eyes are hooded, heavy with lust and something I want to capture and memorize while also running away and forgetting it.

“Words complicate things. Rationalizing complicates things. Expectations complicate things. This—us, this is the only thing that doesn’t feel complicated.”

She moves her hands from my shoulders, and then the nearly silent clip of metal is followed by her bra falling against my chest before she unthreads her arms and lets it fall to the floor. Her breasts are perfect and distracting as I consider all the ways I’d like to please her.

“I want you to consume me,” she says, licking her lips where my eyes are trained, hearing her words repeat in my thoughts, shredding what was left of my conscious thoughts.

I bend at the waist, swiping my tongue over her nipple, her quiet hiss of shock, feeding the inferno in my gut. I run my hand down her back, stopping where her hips swell. I lean into her, my lips tracing her ear. “Lie on my bed.”

I trace over her, feasting on each perfect curve and line, stopping on her arm where the scar from that night is still a prominent reminder. I lean forward, pressing a kiss to the skin, feeling the deep groove where the cut was the worst, and follow it with my tongue.

She nods, reaching for the back of my neck and tugging my mouth against hers again, kissing me firmly before I reposition myself, peppering kisses across her nose, her cheeks, her neck, her chest, until I reach her breasts, where I swirl my tongue over each taut peak before taking each into my mouth, tracing the orb of her breasts with one hand while rubbing her free nipple with the other. Her short nails rake against my skin with pleasure as I trail a path of kisses down to her pubic bone. She shifts, sucking in a breath as I lace my fingers into the waist of her underwear and shimmy the fabric down her legs.

I feel like I’m a fucking king as I explore her, tracing over the sensitive skin of her folds, and then sliding my finger along her clit, her breath hitching as her hips rock. I trace the line of her clit to her entrance several times, changing the pressure with each pass until her breaths are pants, and then I dip a finger inside of her, making her breath leave in a loud sigh.

With her legs spread, I dip my face, tracing her again with my tongue, each swipe ending at her clit as her hips tremble until I know her most reactive and sensitive spot where I focus my attention until she cries out with pleasure, her hands tangled and her lips parted.

I swing my legs off the bed, dropping my underwear to the floor with the last of my reservations, and tear the condom open, rolling it over my length. She watches me, her eyes dancing over me until meeting my stare. I lay over her, hovering several inches above her as I reach down and guide my cock to her entrance. She pulls in a breath that calls my eyes back to hers. A million words are shared in a single second, half of them I can’t decipher—yet I feel them. I feel all of them.

I focus on her eyes as I press inside of her, reading every flinch so I can pause and allow her to adjust to me before continuing. I feel the tightness of her virginity, watch her wince, my breaths fanning her face before I kiss her, running my hand along her

waist, urging her to relax as I continue, claiming her in all the ways possible.

My breath comes out in a hiss, the desire to rock inside of her stopped by the necessity to wait for her body to acclimate to mine. “You feel so fucking good,” I tell her, running my nose along her cheek, breathing more of her in, trying to steel myself as I watch her reactions again, pulling out and slowly sliding back inside, my focus on...

I kiss her then, bruising her mouth as my teeth claim her and my tongue marks her, while I thrust inside of her, reaching down to rub her clit until she explodes around me, and I chase it with my own release.

“Astra indlinant, sed non obligant.” “I know this is tough to imagine, but not all of us speak Latin.” His lips tip higher. “It translates to the stars incline us, they do not bind us.”

“We have our own free will. That no star or god or any other power can force us to do anything.”

Lincoln’s fingers fall flush against my waist. “Let’s just say your perfume has stained more than my pillow at this point.”

“I know I’ve fucked up.” His fingers knead into my waist as he nods, his jaw flexing. “I have. I can’t make excuses. You’re different—everything feels different. With other girls, I’ve never worried about what they think of me, what they need, or what they want. I was a selfish bastard because it scares the hell out of me to let someone in. But, with you, it matters. Everything matters. My mom ruined my dad. They’ve been divorced for fifteen years, and he’s still in love with her. Five failed marriages later, and he doesn’t give a shit because he’s only loved one person, and these weddings are charades—an attempt to forget the love and anger he still holds. And I worry about that, I worry about that with you because I know you’d ruin me.” “That doesn’t scare you now?” “It scares me more to be away from you. To possibly lose you.” His fingers slip from my waist, weaving with my fingers.

He leans up, propping his weight on his elbow as he pulls the covers higher. “Stay here, Rae, and stain it all. Stain everything.”

His eyes slowly open again as I’m studying his features, the darkness contouring each perfect plane and line. “I can’t promise this will be easy or that I will always be rational because you have the ability to undo everything inside of me with just a single glance, but we’ll figure this out.”

He nuzzles closer to me, kissing my lips, and then my cheek, and then my jaw. “You make me want to fix the whole damn world.”

Awwww

“Being a girl sucks,” she says, a dry chuckle follows her words. “There’s this impossible balance we’re all working to find: being tough without being too masculine, being smart without being

arrogant, being kind without being a pushover, being beautiful without being prissy, being successful without being too informal. It’s this massive scale that is constantly in flux, and the joke is on us because everyone is judging us—constantly—and more often than not, we’re our own toughest critic.”

I want to tell her to fuck them. Fuck all those who think she’s anything short of perfection. Fuck anyone who dares to search her for faults and shortcomings. Fuck everyone—but I know she won’t accept that and definitely won’t believe it’s sincere.

I take a drink of my water, wishing it was a straight shot of Patron because sometimes being around her makes me notice too much. Care too much. Feel too much.

As though Lincoln needed extra points toward being a superhuman. Lincoln’s grin hints at something that makes my cheeks flush. “I think I’ve even got my textbook, still. I’ll tutor you.” His gaze flashes down the length of me, blatantly taking his time to scour my body.

Lincoln closes the door behind me, his arm extended, revealing each defined muscle in his forearm that makes blood rush through my body, anticipation building, making me hyperaware of his gaze on me, the heat radiating from his body. He leans closer, my breath catching in my throat.

He grins, closing more of the gap. “Kerosene, you’re not very proficient at bullshit, either. Your vulnerability is sexy. Don’t hide it from me.”

He shakes his head. “When are you going to realize that you’re the only one I see?”

“I’m in this. I’m all in, and I know if I’d just told you how I felt after your accident, this would be easier, but I’ll do this. I’ll pull your weight and mine until you’re ready.”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, taking my ear between his teeth, and then swiping over it with his hot tongue. My love for sleeping-in ends as his fingers trail along my most sensitive parts, willing to wake before the sun every single day if it begins like this. “I need to be inside of you.”

I angle my hips up, and he swears. “You can’t do that. You feel too good.” I do it again, moving our bodies closer. He drops his head, a groan vibrating through his chest. “Stop being gentle with me,” I warn. Lincoln’s dark gaze cuts to mine. “Trust me. That will come, but not yet. I want you to feel good, not pain.”

His lips curve with a grin, and then he leans more of his weight on me, kissing me until I forget to be nervous or self-conscious about the exchange. He resumes his controlled rhythm, his gaze tracing over my body and my face, kissing me with a tenderness I wish I could translate

into words. Then, Lincoln sits up, propping my knees open, as he changes the speed and rhythm, placing his fingers exactly where I need them until I’m moaning his name, and he’s saying mine like a plea.

She laughs. “Seriously. Pax loves you. Your happiness matters to him. If you tell him Lincoln makes you happy, he’s not going to get in the way of that.”

He does make her happy, and he gives her excellent orgasms.