DirtyBeautiful (4 page)

He glared down at his cock. “Shut the hell up,” he grumbled.

He stormed toward the bathroom. Time for another cold
shower.

* * * * *

It took Dylan a better part of the day to prep the floor for
varnishing and he welcomed the hard labor. It turned his mind from the ache in
his balls and the guilt of hurting Erica’s feelings. Creaky floorboards were
replaced and old skirting removed. Overall satisfied with the condition of the
timber, he had spent the day sanding it down to a smooth, level surface. Once
done, he’d varnished the kitchen and marveled as the natural beech wood came up
a lovely tan color. With the windows wide open to allow for ventilation, he
leaned back against the porch post, a cold drink in his hand. His unerring gaze
sought out Erica. She’d spent most of the day in her house as far as he knew. A
couple of times he’d come out for a break and saw her back door swing shut,
which led him to believe that maybe she was avoiding him.

He felt all types of low at the thought that he’d made her
feel she couldn’t even spend time in her own backyard. Guilt, he thought with
wry humor, a familiar companion. It sat heavily on his shoulders and he knew it
wouldn’t ease unless he did something about it. Resolved to fix the situation,
he stood and walked over to her front door. The porch light flickered as bugs
fluttered around it. He faltered, unsure if she expected company. Too late to
turn around now. He knocked and stepped back, hands shoved in his jean pockets.
A moment later the door opened and her eyes widened behind deep-red horn-rimmed
spectacles. Momentarily struck dumb by the look, his carefully thought-out
lines disintegrated. She adjusted the glasses, a lock of hair brushed over her
mouth as she did so, and reminded him of how sensual her lips were.

“You wear glasses?” he blurted.

She snatched them off. “Only when I’m reading. What are you
doing here?”

Discombobulated, he tried to shake the strange notion of
feeling as though he were in his teens again, asking for his first date. “I
lacquered the kitchen and that’s gonna take a bit to dry and I was wondering if
I could take you out to dinner. To apologize about before.”

She swatted her hand. “Already forgotten. You don’t have to
take me out.”

“Still, I’d like to.”

She chewed her lower lip. “I’m really not dressed to go
out.”

“It’s all right. I can wait.”

Erica leaned against the door, two lines creased between her
eyebrows. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

He grinned. “Nope.”

She huffed. “All right. Give me a few minutes.”

Erica opened the door farther and disappeared up the stairs.
Dylan hesitated, then stepped past the threshold into a quaint living room.
Provincial furniture and a modular lounge filled the space. On the arm of the
nearest chair a book lay half open and he did a double take at the cover. A
half-naked man with a woman sprawled over him told Dylan all he needed to know.
That wasn’t a literary piece. Curious, he turned the book over and scanned the
first paragraph.

He touched her as no man had before. His fingers skimmed
the exposed skin beneath her garter, circling ever so softly. Her leg held
against his hip, she was a slave to his whim and she didn’t think she had the
strength to deny him.

“Are you wet for me, my pet?” he asked in a deceptively
casual voice.

Helpless, Emily shook her head in confusion.

His finger found her womanhood and teased the sensitive
flesh there. Ecstasy rolled through her and she moaned. A sound caught between
protest and entreaty. Dear Lord, she never knew a carnal touch could feel so
sinful.

Dylan sucked in a breath, then coughed. Jesus. Was this
erotic fiction? It was a hell of a lot better than the stuff he read in the
pornographic mags. Intrigued, he read further, caught up in the forbidden
sexual escapades of Lord Devonshire and Lady Emily, a spinster sister to the
luscious Lady Christine.

“I’m ready.”

Dylan’s head popped up, taking in her off-the-shoulder,
long-sleeve dress. The material shimmered in shades of burnished gold fringed
with blue. A rope headband ran across the top part of her forehead and held her
hair back. He sucked in a ragged breath at the image of sensual woodland sprite
meets gypsy allure.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are…are you reading my book?”

Dylan flipped back to her page and put it back where he
found it. “Uh, yeah.”

Her mouth dropped open, and an adorable pink bloomed across
her cheeks. “I—I— You shouldn’t go through people’s things!”

He inclined his head, understanding her discomfort. “Sorry,
I didn’t have anything to do, so I thought it’d be okay. I hope you don’t
mind.”

She struggled for her composure, and after flicking her
hands out as though to expel her embarrassment, she nodded. “No, it’s fine.”

“Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

He led her to his truck and opened the door for her. She
smiled briefly and stepped inside. He hurried around the vehicle then settled
behind the wheel. Pulling out of the drive, he glanced at Erica. “Want to go
anywhere in particular?”

She shook her head, her bag clutched to her knees.

“The diner okay with you?”

“Sure.”

They drove in silence for a while, the white elephant made
it difficult for him to concentrate. He didn’t pick her to be the type to read
smut, but he was damn fascinated now. There was no two ways about it. Finally
he pulled into the parking lot and stepped out. Erica all but scrambled to the
front of the diner, a race that forced him to quick beat it to the front so he
could open the door for her. They found a table by the window and a waitress
came to fill their order. After a quick perusal, he picked a burger and fries.
Erica chose the catch of the day and a side of potato wedges. The perky
waitress left him alone with Erica and the unspoken words between them. Erica
tapped the vinyl top with painted fingernails.

Dylan suppressed the urge to chuckle. “You’ll let me know
when you finish that book, right?”

Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “What?”

“The book. What was it?
Secret Passion of a Proper Lady?
”

“Why?” she whispered in a horrified tone.

He shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. “Because I’d like
to read it. I won’t lie. I found that book intriguing. I’d like to see if Lady
Emily marries her lover or if she is forced to marry her evil second cousin.”

Brows clashed together. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I don’t read too much and if I do, it’s usually
straight fantasy. You know, dragons, dwarves and stuff. It’s different.”

“You
do
know it’s a romance, right?”

“Sure. I think I can handle reading about a couple getting
hot and heavy.”

She stared at him as though to search for the truth behind
his words. Finally she leaned back. “Okay.”

He grinned in response and a moment later the waitress
returned with their food. They ate in silence for a bit before Erica spoke.
“What made you choose to come all the way to little Templeton? I mean, it’s a
far cry from Los Angeles.”

Dylan knew she asked out of genuine curiosity but tension
rose within him. “I wanted a change of scenery.”

She stared at him with her guileless green eyes. “But
Templeton
?
I can think of far more interesting places than here. Maybe Seattle or New
York. Maybe even Charlotte.”

“This place suited me.”

She nodded, seeming to understand him as only a native
would. Erica, who’d never been beyond the city, must feel Templeton was all she
was suited for. “Do you have plans to have a housewarming party when you get
your place all done up?”

Dylan took a bite from his burger and imagined the disaster
of his friends coming to Templeton. Throw his estranged sister in the mix and
all hell would break loose. “Nope.”

“That’s a shame. Surely you’d invite some out-of-towners
around. Give them a taste of small-town living.”

Ruby would probably scoff at Erica’s simple style, while
Bryce would probably think he lost his damn mind. “Nah. I don’t think they’d be
interested.”

“Bigwigs living it up in LA, huh?”

“Yeah.”

She chewed on a fry, a thoughtful crease on her brow. “What
about brothers and sisters?”

“A sister.”

“Oh I would’ve loved to have a sister. But alas, I’m an only
child. A miracle child apparently. So, you must be pretty excited about showing
off your handy work?”

“We’re estranged.”

“Oh… I bet your mom and dad would love to see that place. Do
they live in LA too?”

A fresh pang of grief cut through his rib cage and Dylan
struggled to keep his face impassive. He ate a couple of fries. Drank some
water and cleared his throat. “Never knew my dad. Mom died two years ago from
liver failure, complications of chemotherapy.”

Compassion swam in her eyes and she caressed his fist. “I’m
so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back painful memories. I lost my parents too
when I was fifteen. Drunk driver.”

He managed what he hoped was an understanding smile. “You
done here?”

She looked down at her half-eaten meal then nodded. They
both stood and after he settled the bill at the counter they returned to his
truck. It started up with a rumble and Dylan stuck it into gear. They drove in
silence, each lost in thought. Dylan tried hard to keep his mind from that
fateful night. He wasn’t even there when his mom died. She was of the ten
percent who didn’t survive a relatively simple procedure. After six years in
remission, it came back only to take her with it.

“So have you thought of a name for your dog?”

Dylan grasped on to the subject like a drowning man. “At the
moment he’s just panty-snatcher.”

She covered her mouth in dismay. “Oh no, don’t call him
that!”

“Have you got any suggestions?”

“How about mutt?”

“Nice, but unoriginal. I don’t want half the strays coming
to me if I have to call for him.”

She giggled. “All right. What about Emilio?”

He snorted. “We don’t want to give him a complex.”

“He’s a dog! He won’t care if you call him Lady Esmeralda.”

“But I would. I may as well get a man-purse while I’m at
it.”

“Okay, I get it. Super manly name required. Um…Alejandro?”

Dylan frowned. “I’m beginning to notice a pattern here.
What’s with all the Latin names?”

She shrugged. “I always wanted to go to Spain. I love the
culture. Besides, Latin men are hot.”

Dylan repressed a glower. He couldn’t be jealous of an
entire nation of men, but damn if he wasn’t. “You prefer to date Latinos?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “I haven’t been out with one,
but they sure are nice to look at.”

He pulled into his driveway and faced her. “What is it you
like about them?”

She pursed her lips in thought. Unable to resist, he leaned
across the gearshift and kissed her. She gasped and he took immediate
advantage, fusing their mouths together. He licked the sweet edge of her tongue
before he withdrew and guided her movements with his own. Dylan crooned his
appreciation, shifting in his seat to apply more pressure to his kiss. Soft
fingers fluttered over his shoulders and he cupped her jaw to slide his mouth
over the plumpness of her lips.

He tasted her passion, a subtle shudder passed through her
body. Seducing her with his mouth, he teased her tongue with his. Imitating the
primitive motion of sex, he thrust and retreated in a slow, timeless pace. Each
withdrawal was accompanied by the soft closure of his mouth, punctuated by the
wet, erotic sound of desire.

His lips opened again and encouraged her to invite the slide
of his tongue across the hot cavern of her mouth. Each progressive kiss seemed
to push her farther, forcing her head back into the cushion of the headrest.
Needing her to sate this gnawing need, he drew her toward him, signaling to her
without words to mount his lap. Jesus, she’d feel so damn good. Eyes glazed
with desire, she followed. Her weight settled on his thighs, her ass on his
knees. He broke the kiss, rubbing the back of her nape. Their panting breaths
filled the cab. Hair shrouded her in shadow and he pushed it aside to stare
into her flushed face.

“Damn you’re sexy.”

His whole body trembled with ferocious need and he slanted
his lips across hers, claiming her. One hand trailed down her neck, the
off-shoulder dress slid away beneath his touch. He drew back again and groaned
at the sight of her luscious skin. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her
exposed shoulder, the haze of desire played with his sense of taste. Peaches,
God damn peaches. Moist kisses trailed along her collarbone and he broke up the
sensations he visited on her with an intermittent slide of his teeth. He wanted
to eat her up like a decadent dessert.

A ragged gasp left her as he blew a hot breath over the
pulse point at the base of her throat before his lips gently worshiped the
pulsing skin. Her fingers hovered over him as if she didn’t know where to put
them. Hooking his hands under her skirt, he traced them upward until the fabric
bunched on her upper thigh and his thumbs skimmed her underwear. His body
thrummed with the need to push it aside and touch her cunt. Instead he
contented himself by running the pad of his fingers over the edge of her
panties and down the underside of her thighs.

Erica shivered, her body lifting to give him access. A
wicked chuckle left him and he nipped her shoulder. God, he loved the way she
tasted. Breathing her in, he tickled the underside of her knee. His cock
pressed against the zipper of his jeans, aching for release. Perversely, he
found pleasure in simply touching Erica. Showing her all the delicious places
on her body. Silently he promised one day he’d kiss every single spot.

Trailing gentle fingers over the delicate skin along her
back, he worked her erogenous zones. Her back arched, hands digging into his
shoulders. She murmured, a sweet wordless sound in response. He wanted her. His
cock throbbed to fill her. He wanted to hear her scream in pleasure. He glanced
down at her strapless bra and soft belly. God. He hooked his finger over a cup
and exposed her breasts. Heat spiked through his dick. Coral-tipped nipples
begged for his mouth on them. With a groan, he licked one before suckling it
greedily. Erica’s muffled shriek made him smile. It was only going to get
better.