Dirty (Dive Bar, #1)

by Kylie Scott

“Who gains entry to my pants is none of your business,” I said, stomping one foot. The foot did not appreciate it, but bad luck.

I kicked off my shoes. It took several attempts. I only fell over once, though. Go, Team Lydia! I dealt with my black skinny jeans while still on the floor. Because let’s be honest, odds were I’d wind up back down there anyway. And go, brain, for being coherent enough to work that one out. My drunken ass was on fire, I tell you. On fire!

By god, the jerk was heavy. Elephants, the Titanic, think that kind of weight range. “You’re squishing me!”

Then … my sharp teeth bit hard into his hot salty skin, holding on. A full frontal attack on the base of his thick neck. Hahahahaha. “Ouch,” he bitched.

I laughed. “Treat. A piece of me. You make me sound like pie.”

Someone was mouth-breathing seriously loud. How uncouth.

“Be warned, though, I’m practicing to become a better feminist.” I rolled onto my back, staring at his luminous eyes in the dark. “The whole Chris thing was a kick to the clit, but I’m working hard to set myself straight now. I own this body. My fate is mine.” “Okay,” he said slowly, meshing his fingers with mine. “Where is this going?” “I just want you to know, I will not be falling slave to your devil dick and demon tongue. No matter how good they are.”

“Working on a new song?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, sitting down across the table from me. “It’s called ‘You Say Funny Shit When You’re Drunk.” “I like it. Sounds like a winner.” “Yeah. It’s going to be by the Devil Dick and Demon Tongue Band.”

“Lydia, this is the right choice,” he said smoothly. “Comfortable interior, high safety standards, handles well in wet weather and snow, and it even has a small sunroof just for you.” “You’re being condescending. Stop it before I hurt you.”

“I’m not really turned on.” “Nipples.”

“They know nothing.”

“Why the fuck are you wearing these, Lydia?” “Because I’m a fool?” He chuckled.

“But while I was going over the figures, I went over the figures.”

“Trust me, never mock a romance book,” said Mal with all the zest of a manic street preacher. “You have no idea the amount of good they can do for you between the sheets and on the streets. If you love your girl? Buy her books.”

My heart lurched again. It couldn’t be healthy. Any minute now, I’d probably hit the floor dead.

It’s extremely difficult to appear proud and dignified while your nose is leaking. But I did my best.

I subtly wiped my nose on Vaughan’s shirt because love was meant to hurt and occasionally be icky. Happily, it was also meant to shine.

Oh, the heady scent of testosterone was thick in the air. They’d probably start banging antlers any time now.

Judgment oozed from the man’s pores. Along with some expensive aftershave, no doubt.

“Two valued members of the Dive Bar family, Lydia and Vaughan, just decided to get married. I’d like to offer them my congratulations.” Applause erupted. So did I. “What? We didn’t do that. We didn’t get engaged.” “We sort of did,”