Breaking the Rules (6 page)

He eased off his shoes and jeans and stretched out on his back, hands behind his head, elbows akimbo. Trying to relax.

The candle flame guttered a bit in an invisible breeze, casting long shadows over the plain white walls. Spooky. This whole apartment was kind of spooky. Susana was pretty spooky, too, truth be told.

Adrenaline snaked through him as he sniffed the air.

Did he imagine it, or was there a cloyingly sweet aroma of incense curling its way under the door?

She must have lit something out there. Hopefully it wouldn’t make his balls shrivel up like raisins while he slept. Wouldn’t have worried him yesterday but now there was a chance he might need them again.

Or not. Susana didn’t seem like the type to put out easily. Or at all.

Was she a virgin? Probably.

But how long would she stay one
?

The question tickled his imagination and warmed his tired body as he sank into an exhausted slumber.

Susana sat awkwardly on her bed, fists buried in the folds of her nightgown, listening for any hint of sound that might sneak through the wall from Granna’s room.

From Joe’s room.

Her body tingled with excitement at the thought of Joe’s big body stretched out on the bed.

Of his guttural breathing, snoring maybe, stirring the air with its masculine vibrations.

But the thick plaster walls of the old building meant she could hear them only in her imagination. An imagination that had suddenly become shockingly vivid.

Granna had warned her against exercising it. The veil between fantasy and reality could be very thin, she cautioned. One moment you’re thinking something, the next you’re doing it.

Which was all very well if you were just looking to marry and settle down and raise children. But quite another if you had an important gift to nurture. Susana knew a gift like hers came along only once every three generations. Even though she was only half Rom, she was the one who’d inherited the powers.

It had changed her life when she’d found out. Before that she’d been the half-breed, the mistake, lovingly tolerated by her grandmother as an accident of cruel fate.

But once they both realized she had the third eye, she’d instantly been granted new status in the gypsy world.

It had happened around the time of puberty, the time of sexual stirrings and emotional awakenings. As her body blossomed into a woman’s, so her mind developed its strange and potent ability to see beyond the present. So her long-standing engagement had been cancelled and all of her grandmother’s energies channeled into helping her develop a gift that was—so they said—peerless in her generation.

The gift that had presented her with the vision of herself and Joe, walking hand in hand.

She lay slowly back on the bed. The warm air coaxed her to remove her nightgown and she slipped it off.

Her skin glowed in the moonlight sneaking through the thin curtains. Her body hummed with unfamiliar arousal, and fear. She’d often slept naked, but never with a man in the next room. Certainly not a man whose destiny intertwined dangerously with hers.

Dangerous because to act on her desires could mean forsaking her gift.

It didn’t always happen, but it was usually observed in her family that once a girl became a woman—once she joined with a man—she lost her ability to see into the future and became a prisoner of the here and now.

A willing prisoner, usually. Most women preferred the companionship of a husband and children to the lonely solitude of a visionary. They used their gifts while they had them, then they readily gave them up and took on the happier role of wife and mother.

Once a woman was past the hustle and bustle of the child-rearing years, especially if she was widowed, the gift sometimes returned. This had been the case with her grandmother.

The grandmother who had told her to cling to her gifts at all costs. They were too powerful, too precious to sacrifice for the transient comforts of a family.
Don’t get involved with a man. You’ll regret it
, she’d said.

And Susana had always believed her.

Until now.

The scent of him warned her of his presence before she could make out his silhouette in the darkened room. A stirring, musky aroma—hot unvarnished maleness—against the backdrop of the incense she’d lit to smooth out the atmosphere.

Her eyes snapped open, searching the darkness for its source. Just then the mattress shifted, tipping her, as his weight settled heavily onto it.

Fear triggered her upright, naked, every nerve in her body on full alert.

The man on her bed didn’t stir. She saw the gleam of his eyes in the thin reflected moonlight. Dark eyes in the dark night.

Her fingers sang with the urge to leap to her breasts and cover them. But strangely her arms continued to hang by her sides.

The broad, masculine silhouette in front of her shifted slightly, then lifted a powerful arm. Her nipples tightened as his hand traversed the darkness between them, fingers rising toward her exposed breasts.

She’d never been more vulnerable.

Or more intrigued.

She gasped as his fingertips made contact with the tiny hairs on her skin, his touch so soft she could barely feel it. Then the pressure grew deeper, the pads of his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, his palm sliding gently under her breast to cup its weight.

His thumb settled against her nipple, chafing slightly until she blinked in the darkness, her breath coming faster as the odd sensation heated her blood.

I like you
.

She’d thrown the words behind her as she turned away from him. Apparently they’d fallen like bread crumbs on a woodland trail, beckoning him to follow.

She wasn’t sure why she’d said them at the time. Except that they were the truth.

She wasn’t even sure why she liked him. Just that she did.

He raised his other hand toward her untouched breast. She drew in a quick breath as her nipple stung with anticipation of his touch.

She leaned forward a little, her body unconsciously encouraging his caress. His gaze was no more than a gleam in the darkness, his expression invisible. But she heard his breathing hitch as his fingertips grazed the side of her breast, sliding down to her waist.

What do you want from me
?

Sensitive nerve endings shimmered under his gentle touch. Her insides heated and softened, her resistance lowering every second.

Her arms stirred at her sides, wanting to reach out, wanting to claim him, too. She lifted a tentative hand and watched her fingers, pale in the moonlight, as she raised it to touch his mouth.

As her fingertips met his lips they parted, and his hot breath tickled her skin. Her chin lifted as a sudden wave of desire rose through her at the thought of that scorching breath trailing, very slowly, all over her body.

What do you want from him, Susana
?

Do you want to give up your powers? Do you want to give yourself to this man—just for one night—and wake up an ordinary girl?

Her gifts were not merely an entertaining talent; they were her livelihood. She didn’t know how to do anything else. Her hand slid back to her side.

But the mattress tilted her toward Joe as he eased his weight along it, closing the distance between them.

Susana knelt on top of the sheets, in the same position she’d sprung to when she realized he was there. As he shifted closer, his knee bumped softly against her thigh.

She could see the gleam of his smile in the darkness. She smiled back.

He’d broken into her locked room. Who did that but a thief? He’d come to steal something from her, something he didn’t even know he had the power to take.

But he knew she was a virgin. She could see that.

Her lack of sexual experience had always been a badge of pride she’d worn, a symbol of her apartness.
You are special
, her grandmother had said.
Not like those other girls
. She’d held her head high as they’d snickered behind their hands.

One by one the girls she’d grown up with had gotten married. By the time she was twenty-one she was the only girl in the extended family who had no man of her own.

Now she was the only one who lived alone.

Which was not a natural state of affairs for a gypsy.

Joe’s callused palms grazed her skin as they slid down the sides of her torso to ring her slender waist. She held her breath as his fingertips drifted over the soft flesh of her belly, causing a tremor inside her empty womb.

Don’t you ever want to have a baby
? her girl cousins had asked, eyes wide with astonishment.

No
.

And she’d always meant it when her grandmother was alive, assuring her of the paramount importance of developing her third eye, the life of the mind supplanting the life of the body.

Joe’s hand slid lower, fingertips diving into the dark shadow of hair between her legs. Susana gasped. Little quakes of sensation shivered at the base of her thighs, sticky heat gathering between her legs.

Don’t you want to make love with a man
? they’d asked.

No
, she’d always said.

Joe leaned forward, and her eyes slid shut as his mouth closed over hers in a hot, hungry kiss that stole her breath.

Yes
.

Her nerves crackled with the strange and frightening response.

She wanted to give herself to Joe. A man who came with no promises, no assurances, no marriage contract. A man who demanded no dowry, no proud unbroken lineage, no lifetime of faithful bondage.

Joe pulled back, leaving her breathless, and her eyes sprang open. Heat shimmered between them as his face hovered only inches from hers in the darkness.

Instinctively, her arms rose from her sides and snaked around his neck, pulling him to her. Her fingers probed into his thick dark hair, relishing the coarse texture of it. She lifted her face to his unshaved cheek, enjoying its rough surface, teasing and pricking her lips over the unfamiliar masculine edge of his cheekbone.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body so stoked with desire she thought it might burst into flame at any second.

Joe’s big hands cupped her buttocks, raising her up, unsettling her and threatening to topple her onto him.

As he lifted her, one hand slid between her legs, into the moist warmth. Her mouth fell open and a soft moan hung in the air between them as a thick finger penetrated the wetness, filling her.

Shuddering, she felt herself already losing control. Muscles seized, already pulsing in an urgent rhythm as she fell onto him, clinging, her breath lost against his rough, musky skin.

And even as her body quivered with fierce aftershocks the questions rang in her mind.

Does it count
?
Am I no longer a virgin
?

Eyes squeezed shut she held Joe tight as she focused all her energies on seeing with her third eye.

Nothing
.

Terror seized her. Icy fingers gripped at her heart as she realized she’d just given up everything. Given up her life, her past, her future, everything, for a few brief moments of pleasure with a man she barely knew.

And then she woke up. Alone.

CHAPTER 4

J
oe stretched and squinted his eyes against the sun streaming in through the uncovered windows. The curtains must have been burned along with the rest of the stuff.

Whatever was in that incense had knocked him out cold. Or maybe he was just so dog tired he’d really needed a good night’s rest. Whichever, it was the first decent night of sleep he’d had in a long time. No nightmares either, which was a freakin’ miracle.

He rolled out of bed and wandered into the hallway in search of the bathroom.

“Ahh!” The shriek made him jump.

“Morning, Susana.”

She gave him a quick look of horror and scuttled away.

“Morning,” she whispered harshly from the living room.

He glanced down at his underwear. He was fully covered, nothing untoward going on. He shrugged and pushed into the bathroom.

Ouch. A glimpse in the mirror was not a pretty sight. Time to break out the razor. But it wasn’t like he’d suddenly grown horns—what had gotten her all rattled?

He showered, shaved, dressed in clean clothes and was feeling almost completely human by the time he ventured into the kitchen in search of Susana.

He’d heard pans clattering and the rousing aroma of bacon filled the air. A smile started to creep across his face in anticipation of seeing her, and he wiped it away. Didn’t want to look like a wolf entering a sheep pen this early in the morning.

“Something smells good.”

“Just bacon and eggs. Would you like toast with it?”

“Love some. Can I help?”

She shook her head in response and indicated for him to sit at the tiny table pushed into the corner of the small kitchen. He eased himself down into the tight space and propped his elbows on the table.

He seized the opportunity to get a good look at Susana. Again she wore a long, full skirt, dark, with a pattern of tiny flowers. On top, a black blouse tucked in to reveal her slender waist. Her thick, shiny hair hid her face from him as she bent over the task of scrambling the eggs.

Did she know concealment did far more to inflame his imagination than if she’d put everything on display? A tantalizing flash of slim ankle and her narrow bare feet were all he could see of what could only be long, shapely legs.

She had a nice curve to her hip, too. Hourglass.

Down boy
.

He shifted in his chair as his blood heated before the sun had even had a chance to steam up the apartment.

“Would you like tea? I’m afraid I don’t have coffee.”

“No thanks.” He wasn’t taking any more chances with her teas. “Milk would be great if you have it. Otherwise water’s fine.”

Her skirt flew out behind her as she darted to the fridge and retrieved the milk. She seemed all on edge this morning, her movements quick and jerky. He still hadn’t gotten a good look at her face yet.