Dillon: Her Rule Breaker

DILLON: Her Rule Breaker

by

Monique DeVere

© Monique DeVere 2017

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, products or brand names described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, therefore not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. Except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.

DILLON: Her Rule Breaker

COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Monique DeVere

Published by Crystal Swan Publications

United Kingdom

Electronic Edition: October 2017

Contact Information: moniquedevere@gmail.com

Cover Designed by Crystal Swan

crystalswancovers@gmail.com

Publishing History

Published by Crystal Swan Publications

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other Titles by Monique DeVere

DIVORCE ETIQUETTE

LET’S PRETEND

MORE THAN A PLAYBOY

MORE THAN FRIENDS

ZACH’S REBOUND GIRL

YOU DON’T GET JOE!

ETHAN’S TEMPORARY FLING

KISS ME AGAIN

PARTY FOR TWO

ADAM: HER DEAL MAKER

Back Cover Copy

Breaking the rules with his best friend’s sister has never felt so right!

After eight years in the UK, Renée Swank is back in sunny California, eager to launch her chic lingerie boutique. But there’s a twist—right across her hallway is none other than Dillon Matthews. Yes, THAT Dillon—the dreamy rebel from her teenage diaries and, awkward alert, her brother's best bud. As if that isn’t enough stress on her heart, her kleptomaniac cat won’t stop stealing her panties and leaving them in his apartment. So why does he agree to help fix up her boutique?

Helicopter pilot by day, skilled carpenter by night Dillon The Rule-Breaker Matthews has never been one to play by the rules. Tasked with the simple favor of watching over Renée—his buddy’s off-limits little sister—seems straightforward. Until her mischievous ragdoll cat starts messing with his love life. Soon they’re making more than shop fixtures and her boutique isn’t the only secret he and Ren are keeping. As boundaries fade and passion ignites, they must confront the ultimate question: Is love the one rule worth breaking?

Dedication

To April, Janet, & Lori—my wonderful CPs. Friends as well as super-duper critique partners! I’ll be eternally thankful for your collective eagle-eyes. And to my special reader—Claire—I heart you so much! Love you, girls. xox

Contents

Other Titles by Monique DeVere

Back Cover Copy

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Meet The Author

Chapter 1

❣

"These aren’t mine, Dillon. So whose are they?" His date hurled the tiny red scrap of satin through the air.

It smacked him in the face.

Dillon caught the panties before they hit the laminated floor. The satin-and-lace thong disappeared in his fist. He understood why Holly was so mad. He wouldn’t be too happy, either, if he found another man’s boxers in his date’s bed. But, while he’d made one or two mistakes in the past, on this occasion he was innocent.

They belong to my neighbor. Renée Swank, little sister to his best friend and owner of a giant cat from hell. She’d been back in California only three months and already she and her raggy cat were ruining his sex life. When he’d let Adam talk him into keeping an eye on her, he’d never have guessed she would cause him so much aggravation.

Holly’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. She narrowed her eyes to slits, and he was pretty sure he heard her teeth grind together. Are you telling me you’re sleeping with both of us?

No, of course not. He shoved the panties into his jeans front pocket, certain they belonged to the distraction across the hall. I’m not sleeping with Renée. He wasn’t sleeping with Holly either, not that he hadn’t been looking forward to changing that status quo tonight. She’d made him sit through three dates, and tonight was supposed to be the night he finally got the prize.

"Is that her name? Renée? Does she know about me? Or were you planning to let her find my panties in your bed tomorrow night, too?"

No, I wasn’t planning—Look, she has this cat.

Oh really? A cat… let me guess. She gave a caustic laugh that scraped his nerves. The cat did it.

Yes! Finally, she understood.

Holly slammed her hands on her curvy hips. You’re a real piece of work, you know that, Matthews? I actually thought you were different but turns out, you’re as much of a playboy as most of the guys out there. She spun on her heels, snatched her tiny purse from the sofa—where less than half an hour ago they’d been getting to the good stuff—and stalked to the door.

Dillon glanced at his discarded shirt where it lay abandoned on the floor beside the sofa. How had things rolled downhill so fast? One minute he had a sure thing in his embrace, the next she’d excused herself to use his bathroom. Only to return with a pair of panties she’d apparently found on his bed. Since this wasn’t the first time a woman’s underwear had turned up in his bed unexpectedly, he had no reason to doubt her.

When he got his hands on that raggy cat… and Renée Swank…

Holly, wait. He caught up with her at the apartment door, clasping her arm to keep her from running out on him before he explained. You’ve got it wrong. Renée is only my neighbor and my best friend’s little sister. Nothing more.

If you want me to believe that’s true, tell me how her thong ended up in your bed.

I told you, she has this cat that—

You know what? Forget it. If you can’t be man enough to admit the truth, don’t bother to make up stupid lies. It’s insulting to both my intelligence and yours. She dragged her arm from his grasp. And here’s a piece of advice. Grow up! Women prefer real men, not lying, cheating thirty-one-year-old teenagers. She yanked open his apartment door, rushed out and slammed it behind her.

* * *

Okay, Sneakthief, where did you hide it? Renée crept toward the eighteen-pound, docile male cat curled up on the foot of her queen-size bed. The white, chocolate colorpoint Ragdoll eyed her with a look of utter boredom in his royal-blue eyes.

Don’t try to look innocent. I know you hid it. Now show me where it is.

Sneakthief blinked with his usual laid-back air of contentment. Like he had no clue what she referred to. But Ren knew better. She hadn’t named the cat Sneakthief for nothing. She only had to take her attention off him for a moment, and he snuck off with every new pair of underwear she brought into her apartment. A trick he’d played on her almost from the moment she got him two months ago as a birthday gift from her brother. At first, she’d been amused to find her underwear in odd places. But lately, Sneakthief had taken to absconding further afield with her lingerie. She wouldn’t mind all that much if he didn’t sneak it into Dillon’s bed, forcing her to face humiliation when her brother’s best friend returned them.

Her brother’s yummylicious best friend whom she shouldn’t be thinking about. Dillon was so commitment phobic he couldn’t even commit to a tattoo because it was too permanent—he’d actually said that once. Yet, he’d been the leading man in way too many of her late-night fantasies since she moved into his apartment building three months ago. And long before that if she were honest. Sadly, telling herself she shouldn’t be indulging torrid, sexy fantasies about her neighbor didn’t do a thing to stop them. Didn’t prevent her from longing to sink her fingers into his sun-kissed hair and mess it up. Or stop her from sneaking peeks at his hard-as-granite body when he returned from his shirtless morning run all hot and sweaty.

Not that she would ever send him her come ‘n’ get me, honey signals. For starters, he was Adam’s best friend, and the last thing she needed was another man like her brother trying to protect her. Plus, Dillon was a first-class flirt, Playboy, Casanova and all-round womanizer. Or so she’d heard. And from the parade of women she’d seen entering and exiting his apartment, she wouldn’t be at all surprised if he had a harem.

Come on, Sneakie, this isn’t funny. Kip is going to be at the door in fifteen minutes. I need my panties, and I know you took it. Give it up. Why she wasted time attempting to coax a cat—that neither understood nor cared she had a date—into giving back her underwear, she had no idea. She had drawers full of enticing lingerie, but Ren had chosen the matching red satin-and-lace set from her stock especially for tonight.

This was the night and she wanted it to be perfect. Kip had been patient, had honored her seven-dates-before-sex rule. Tonight was date seven and she was excited. They were going Go-Karting, and if the thought of speeding around a track in a motorized Kart revved her engines more than the man she’d be doing it with, she put it down to nerves.

She liked Kip.

He was smart and didn’t have an overprotective bone in his body. Okay, so he was a little on the strait-laced and boring side. At least he was a grown up. Not at all like the man with the Peter Pan syndrome who lived across the hall.

She couldn’t deny that Dillon Matthews was a walking, talking aphrodisiac. But he was also too commitment-phobic for any woman to think of him as a long-term investment. And Ren was all about the long term. Recently she’d come up with a plan, a surefire way to get her family to take a step back and give her some breathing space. The idea had come on the back of something her sister-in-law had said in passing. Adam is so much more relaxed when you’re in a relationship because he knows you’ve got someone to look out for you.

To which she’d replied: I don’t need anyone to look out for me. I can protect myself.

Lacey had given her a sympathetic smile. You and I know that, honey, but Adam and the boys still see you as that vulnerable twelve-year-old.

When she was twelve, she’d almost been abducted by a pair of child molesters. If Adam hadn’t arrived in time… she hated to think about what could have happened to her. As a result of that incident, her family all became overprotective of her. Until she felt so smothered she finally ran off to the UK to live with her maternal grandparents and attend university in Sheffield.

Well, I’m no longer twelve, Lace. And I don’t need a man to protect me.

She hated to admit it, but she’d caved. If being in a relationship got her family off her back, she’d make sure she was never without a partner again. She figured if she had an ever-present boyfriend, her family would be happy enough to leave her alone. And she could concentrate on getting her lingerie boutique off the ground. She could grow to care for Kip. She couldn’t ever see herself falling in love, though. Love made a person helpless, and she would never allow herself to become helpless again.

Ren dropped to her hands and knees to peek under the bed. Not that she had ever found her underwear there. She rose onto her knees, jammed her hands on her hips, and met Sneakthief’s lazy gaze with what she hoped was a convincing mommy-is-very-cross-with-you stare.

If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn the cat flicked a feline smile as his fluffy chocolate-colored tail slowly swished back and forth like he was trying to hypnotize her into forgiving him.

Not this time, you big furball. What did you do with my red thong? Please tell me you didn’t take it to Matthews’.

The doorbell chimed.

Ren threw up her hands.

Oh, fantastic! Kip’s at the door and I’m still in my bathrobe. She stomped from the bedroom. Maybe he would appreciate discovering her in a state of undress. Maybe he’d find it sexy and suggest they skip Go-Karting in favor of far more exciting activities. Ren smiled. Losing her panties just might be a blessing after all.

She opened the door. Kip, I’m so sorry. My cat—

Is about to lose all nine of his lives. The shirtless man standing opposite her with a red satin-and-lace thong dangling from his crooked forefinger was not Kip.

Even with the hard edge to his deep voice, he still managed to send warm, delicious shivers up and down her spine. Or perhaps fear for her cat caused the shivers.

He stepped forward.

Ren braced a straight-armed palm against his bare chest, ignored the zingy tingles shooting up her arm, and snatched her panties from his fingers with her other hand. She didn’t believe for a second that Dillon would really hurt her cat, but she’d never seen him this mad. Usually, when her underwear showed up at his place he’d return it with a dimpled smile then head back to his apartment without a word of conversation.

But not this time.

This time, he looked ready to make good on his threat.

Dillon, you can’t kill my cat.

You sure about that? He pressed forward, forcing Ren to use both hands to hold him back.

Yes! More tingles zinged and zapped her entire body, melting places that had no business melting until much later with Kip. I’m pretty sure Animal Rights would take exception to you offing a cat because he brought you a pair of panties.

How about if I killed him for ruining my sex life? Dillon’s gaze cut from hers to focus on an object over her left shoulder, his eyes narrowed and he tightened his jaw. Raggy, you’ve stolen your last pair of panties.

Ren turned to follow Dillon’s gaze. Sneakthief had ambled into her open plan living room like he didn’t have a care in the world. But the second he saw Dillon, he paused like he’d bumped into a force field, lowered his head then spun on his paws and dashed out of sight.

Dillon faked left, went right, brushing past her as he took off after her cat.

"Dillon, no! Wait!" She grabbed his arm, clamping both her hands around the hard flex of his bicep.

Wow.

It was like wrapping her hands around a solid stone. The strength and power evident in his tight muscles had her places melting a little bit more. Unfortunately, even using all her might didn’t slow Dillon down. He shook her off and rushed in the direction Sneakthief had disappeared.

Poor Sneakthief. He was a huge feline with a penchant for expensive lingerie but she loved him, and she couldn’t let Dillon harm him. Ren took off after Dillon, hoping she wasn’t too late to save Sneakthief.

As she got to the bedroom door, Sneakthief dashed out from under the bed and flew through the gap between her legs. Dillon, who had been on his knees reaching underneath her bed, jumped to his feet and gave chase as he muttered curses. As he passed her, Ren hooked her fingers in the loops of his jeans and dug her heels into the laminated bamboo floor, feeling like an unwilling spectator in a twisted version of a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Dillon, stop. He’s only a cat. He doesn’t understand.

He kept going as though he hadn’t noticed Ren’s effort to halt him. "I’m going to make him understand."

Dillon, please. She skated behind him, having absolutely no effect on his progress whatsoever. You’re acting crazy. If anyone has a right to be angry, it’s me. He stole my underwear and I’m butt naked under here.

Dillon jerked to a sudden stop.

Ren skated right into the back of him. He spun and shot out a hand to steady her. What did you say?

Grabbing a hold of him to stop herself from falling, Ren realized she’d just told her brother’s BF that she was naked under her robe. From the way his blue eyes darkened and the rhythmic tick in his jaw, she suspected he was about to go all surrogate big brother on her. She also noticed how warm and solid he felt beneath her palms.

That I’m naked under my robe. Why had she repeated it? Maybe because half of her liked the shocked look he got on his face, and the other half desperately wanted to discover if he noticed her as a woman at all. Did he see her only as Adam Swank’s baby sister?

Naked? His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.

She nodded. Yep, I’m not—

Stop talking. His command came out a little strangled and hoarse.

She liked that she seemed to be having some sort of effect on him, not that it made her special or anything. Dillon Matthews was a through and through tomcat, same as her brothers—the twins, Hayden and Harley. She didn’t think either of them possessed an ounce of restraint when it came to pursuing the opposite sex. Although their older brother Adam had changed—mellowed—since falling in love with Lacey and finally hanging up his bachelorhood in favor of marriage. So perhaps there was hope for Harley and Hayden.

Dillon’s gaze dropped to her mouth. The hot stare trapped her breath in her throat. She was way out of her depth and sinking fast. Dillon Matthews was not a man she wanted to mess around with. For starters, he had no substance, and secondly, she was dating a great guy who could very well be her future… something. So Dillon Walking Aphrodisiac Matthews should aim that sexy royal-blue gaze on some other woman.

She stepped back—right on Sneakthief’s tail. She hadn’t noticed him lurking