Breaking Rule Seven (Cowboy Casanova #1) (2 page)

Her hands roamed the warm flesh of his back, while his fingertips brushed across her nipples through her still soaked sweater. A slight moan escaped her throat and she could already feel her panties starting to dampen. 

When he finally broke their connection, Charity practically gasped for air. Although she hadn't been on a single date since moving to Broken Branch, she had kissed plenty of men in her lifetime. But, things seemed different with Clay. It was almost as though they had locked lips every day of their lives, the excitement and promise of passion looming between them.

It mesmerized and frightened her, all at the same time.

The warmth of Clay's touch singed her skin as he held her close, spreading a trail of soft pecks along her collarbone. Her body screamed for more, to feel him caress her skin. But, she just couldn't let go of who he was and the trouble he could cause in her life.

A few silent moments passed between them as Clay continuing to explore her body with his lips and hands, while Charity was left wondering if she should stay or leave. Spending even another minute in the apartment meant she would end up sleeping with Clay—and possibly the end of her career. But going felt like it would rip out a tiny piece of her soul, one she didn't even know existed until they kissed.

Finally, Charity stood up. "Clay... I can't… My job..." She felt too shaken by the sudden attraction between them to be able to finish a single sentence. "I think we just need to slow things down."

He didn't say a word, but nodded slightly. There was no way a playboy like him with a life on the rodeo circuit could ever understand responsibility and obligation. Or the rules she set forth for her life. To him, she was just another conquest. Yet, Charity thought she saw a hint of sadness in his deep blue eyes as she turned towards the door.

Taking the knob in her hand, she tried to turn it. It didn't move.

"What the..." Charity's voice trailed off as she tried the handle again. "Clay, it's locked."

Clay looked at her with another confused look, the same lips that had just melted her emotions turning up in a slightly cocky grin. "That bastard really thought of everything, didn't he?"

The color drained from Charity's cheeks. "No way. There is no way we are locked in here… Together… Alone…" She wasn't sure if her willpower would hold through the night.

To prove his point, Clay grasped the doorknob and attempted to turn it. Even under his masculine grasp, again it didn't budge. "Sorry, sweetheart. Not going to open. Looks like you are stuck here until they decide to let us out."

"Let us out?" Charity asked. She liked to pride herself on her intelligence, but something about this whole situation dumbfounded her.

"You mean you don't get it?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. When she shook her head no, he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Hon, they locked us in here. It's a ploy to try to get us together."

"
They? And us?
That's completely crazy!" Charity gasped. "Who does something like that?"

"Apparently a kooky couple who have been married for a gazillion years." Clay smirked. "Ginny's kind of known around here for being quite the matchmaker. She's had her eyes set on getting me paired up for quite a long time. I should have guessed she would pull something like this."

The reality sank in for Charity. "Oh, no… no… no. Dating the people I represent is a big giant no. In fact, it goes completely against rule number seven," she said, shaking her head. "Plus, Ginny hates you." 

Clay laughed. "I happen to know for a fact that a PRRA employee dating a competitor is not against any rule in the book." 

Charity shot him a glance. "Okay, Mr. Hotshot. And how do you know that information?"

He shrugged, causing her to roll her eyes. "I'm a guy. I've dated a few women who worked for the association. What can I say?"

"Dating? And just a few?" she asked, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. Charity already knew the previous three women who had held her job position had found themselves at the mercy of Clay's charms. Looking at his half-naked frame now, she could see why. His arms were strong and muscular, more from hanging on tight on the back of a very large bull than from spending hours pumping iron in the gym. His piercing blue eyes seemed to cut right through her soul, especially when she found herself staring into them for way too long, just as she did at that moment.

"Not the point," he shot back with a laugh. "So, what's this rule preventing you from letting me have my way with you? Right here… Right now…" He moved in close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her skin.

"Personal rule." It was obviously going to be difficult to stand her ground.

"Let me guess," Clay surmised. "You have a lot of these personal rules, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

Placing his hands on the small of her back, he pulled her body close so that her hips were square with his. "You just carry yourself that way. So calculated. So… perfect."

Charity couldn't tell if he meant that as a compliment or not. All she knew was her body ached to feel the warm touch of his skin in her most intimate places. 

"Forget the rules," he commanded.

"No," she whispered back, unsure if she believed her own words or not as her heart rate quickened and the heat rose between her thighs.

"Forget. The. Rules." Clay's lips hovered over hers, ready to move in for another kiss. She could already feel his hardness through his jeans, which was quite evident as close as their bodies were to one another.

Everything inside Charity's head screamed for her to run from Clay. To keep her wits about her, do her job, and stick to her personal code of conduct. But her body failed her, craving to feel his gentle caresses over every square inch of her being.

Finally, she gave in and pressed her lips against his, the passion between them mounting into a fiery ball of need. 

Clay's hand reached up and fisted in her chestnut hair, pulling it from the confines of the elastic band and causing it to sprawl wildly around her shoulders. Charity let out a soft moan as he nibbled on her bottom lip, her fingers gliding over the bare skin of his chest. She could smell the seductive scent of his aftershave, causing her to want to drink in the aroma forever.

Rule number seven be damned.

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him across the apartment to the tiny bedroom. If letting her guard down and breaking her most important personal standard was going to happen, she wanted to be the driving force behind it.

Charity could feel her carefully orchestrated world crumbling as she stripped her jeans off, exposing her long legs and a seductive black lace thong. She knew sleeping with Clay was a bad idea, yet her body craved his touch in ways she couldn't wholly understand.

Unbuttoning the front of the sweater, she pulled it down her shoulders and tossed it aside.  

"You are beautiful," he said slowly, stroking her cheek and tasting her lips once more. 

"I'm sure you say that to all the women," she teased, her tone laced with sarcasm. 

As she reached for the button of his tight jeans, Clay's hand caught hers. "No. I want to have my way with you first."

He scooped her up in his arms and laid her gently on the mattress, planting another erotic kiss on her swollen lips. After a brief moment, he broke the contact between them and proceeded to plant a trail of kisses down her body, starting at her neck and ending just above her the line of her silken panties.

Enjoying every single sensation he brought forth, Charity gasped when she felt the suddenness of the crotch of her underwear pushed aside and his mouth lapping at her velvety core. As Clay's mouth massaged her clit, she could feel the passion building within and began to writhe in pre-orgasmic ecstasy.

For a brief moment, Clay stood and freed himself from his jeans and boxer briefs. Charity licked her lips as she took in the scene of his hard, naked body and thick erection, which was even more glorious than she had envisioned in even her wildest fantasies.

Reaching up and unhooking her bra, she tossed it away. Grabbing her own breasts with her palms, she began to roll the little buds of her nipples between her fingers. The mix of sensations between her own touch and Clay's was enough to send her into all out euphoric bliss.

A cry escaped her throat. When she had come back down from her high, she was left panting against the bed.

"Oh, no. We aren't even done yet, sweetheart," he cajoled, reaching onto the nightstand for his wallet. Pulling out a condom and tearing the wrapper, Clay slipped it onto his cock before turning his attention back to her body.

Charity cried out as he slid his hardness between her thighs, entering her with expert precision. 

It had been months since she had felt the heat of a man and it took a moment for her body to accommodate his girth. Her body felt as though it were on fire, every touch magnified by a hundred and fifty percent. 

As Clay found his rhythm and rocked his hips into her, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. Swallowing her lusty mews as she came again, it only took a couple more thrusts before he tumbled over the edge with her. 

Both of them fell against the mattress, panting and buzzing from the passion they'd both just experienced. While Clay went into the bathroom to clean up, Charity silently chided herself for giving into his charms.

"So, are you planning on telling me that your set of rules still applies here?" Clay asked after he had returned to the bedroom and Charity was nestled in his arms.

"Rule number seven
always
applies," she said with a heavy sigh.

"What makes this rule so damn important, anyway?" he quizzed, giving her one of his trademark dimpled grins.

Charity frowned. She didn't like airing the dirty laundry of the past to anyone, but for some reason she felt she could trust Clay. "He was a pro athlete. Football player, actually. I was hired to represent him by the team, mostly because he had a reputation for being a little bit of a bad boy."

Clay let out a small laugh. "Sounds familiar. Go on."

"Actually, it does." Charity giggled. "Anyway, he was married. One night I was in my office and he came in. One thing led to another and—"

"And rule number seven happened?" 

"Exactly," she replied.

"Never get personally involved with a client," the both said in unison. Clay reached down and took Charity's hand, intertwining their fingers as she rested her cheek on his chest.

"His wife found out. Who, coincidentally enough, was my boss," she confessed.

"Ooh. That's rough," he said, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. It was a caring and intimate gesture that surprised Charity.

"Yeah, it definitely did not work out the way I really wanted it to."

"Well… I can tell you one thing," Clay said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smirk. 

"What's that?" Charity asked.

"At least I'm
technically
not your client," he whispered in her ear, playing with a small strand of her dark-brown hair between his fingertips. "Which means we can do this…" His palms switched their attention to her chest, brushing her exposed nipples and causing her to shiver. "Without
really
breaking rule number seven."

"Brief technicality," she said, sighing at the heat of his touch. "Rule number seven is still a rule."

"You know what? I don't like rules," Clay remarked with defiance glimmering in his deep-blue eyes. 

"Gasp! I'd never have guessed that one," Charity teased, running a trail of kisses down his torso.

"Hate 'em, actually. Never found one I really agreed with," he laughed.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Rolling her eyes, she gave him a playful slap on the arm.

"Hey! At least I'm honest!" Clay flashed his blue eyes at her, and she couldn't help but feel her skin warm once again. There was just something absolutely seductive about every inch of this man.

"Now it's your turn to tell me a few things," Charity said as she propped herself up, anxious to change the subject.

"Such as…?" Clay asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Such as… why you insist on causing trouble on the circuit? And what's with the badass playboy act?  I've seen you, Clay. You are one hell of a bull rider."

A serious look crossed his face and he got quiet. "What is this, the goddamned Spanish Inquisition?"

Charity smiled. "Wow, cowboy. No need to get all bent out of shape about it. You wanted to know something personal about me. Now I want to know something personal about you. So, fess up."

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Clay leaned against the wooden headboard and took a deep breath. "We aren't that different, you and I," he finally replied.

"How so?" Charity propped her chin up in her hand, interested to hear what he had to say.

"We both care a hell of a lot about what others think." He rolled over on his side and locked eyes with her. "You're in public relations. I have a public persona to uphold that seriously dictates my career. Think about it."

"Clarify."

"Alright. You probably think I spend all my time getting drunk, starting fights, and picking up women," he reasoned. "In all truth, I don't drink. And any fight I've been involved in since I was fourteen is because the other guy laid a hand on me first."

She couldn't believe what she just heard. "Excuse me? So, you just run around like a fool for no good reason?"

Clay flashed a dimpled smile and dropped his voice low. "Honey, I have a very good reason. Those fans that show up to watch me ride a beast of an animal for eight seconds, do so to live vicariously through me. These are the same good old boys who go home to their wives and make it to church on time on Sunday, but wish they were out fighting and carrying on. So, yes… I go out and act like a complete jackass to make sure a whole crowd of people keep buying tickets for a sport I care about keeping alive and love with all my heart."

Charity was flabbergasted. "All this time, I thought you were just some immature man-child who couldn't grow the hell up."