Dirty (Dive Bar, #1)

by Kylie Scott

And say what? I knew this was not a good situation to get caught in. 1. I’d basically broken into this guy’s house. 2. And had then gone on making myself right at home, having a messy emotional breakdown in his bathtub. Normal, rational people didn’t do this sort of thing. I didn’t even have a criminal record, had never particularly done anything outlandish or interesting until now.

You wouldn’t believe how hard it was, keeping my eyes on his face. The struggle was real.

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I bet he was a tattoo model, or a biker, or a pirate, or something. Something a lot hot and more than a little scary.

“Yes, your sofa is cunningly hidden down the front of my dress. You won’t believe where I fit the TV.”

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“You’ve got drama too?” A shrug. “Doesn’t everyone?” “A side effect of breathing, I guess.”

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“No straight guy could stay away from that rack,” he said quietly. “Just saying.” “Not everyone’s a tit man.” “Well, they should be,” he scoffed. “Breast is best.”

“Are you aware that most people wait a little longer before discussing the rules of etiquette in regards to finger banging? Who they should and shouldn’t open their legs for? Things like that.”

At least he couldn’t see me ogling him because of my shades. I probably had drool on my chin, though. Ever so discreetly, I gave it a rub.

“On the plus side, when you get worked up your tits start heaving up and down with each breath. Magnificent. Honestly, I can’t get enough of it.”

Clearly, there were far more northern Idaho sex gods than I’d given the region credit for.

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“Nell, I hate to be the one to have to tell you this. But your brother is hot. Like smokin’ hot. Honestly, it’s kind of impossible to have a vagina and not look.”

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“That’s just me complimenting your rear and practicing my come-on lines now that I’m swinging single again.” “I’m glad you felt my ass worthy of your attentions.” “No problem.” “And I want you to know, minute you give me the signal and lift-up your shirt I’ll be more than happy to give your breasts all the best lines I’ve got.” “That’s sweet.”

“Vaughan, I’m genuinely beginning to get concerned about your breast fixation. Seriously.

“Something you need to know,” he said. “Before tonight.” “What’s that?” “I put out on the first date,” he told me with a perfectly straight face. “That okay with you?” “Oh, I’m counting on it.” My face might have been aflame, but then so was the rest of my body. “I mean … it would have been so awkward if you expected me to respect you for your mind or something. Yikes, how embarrassing. Between you and me, I’m really only interested in getting into your pants.”

Seriously, who’d have thought salvation lay hidden in Vaughan’s pants? Not me.

“If you honestly believe there’s a chance I had sex with Eric tonight, be a good boy and shove that guitar where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Surely it was all some silly mistake. No one with a mouth so talented and blessed could possibly have behaved like a thoughtless bastard.

#Dirty #KylieScott

“But on the day of her wedding, when she was wearing this sweet dress that served her tits up like they were on a fucking platter—” “Is this an R-rated story?”

He couldn’t have made his speech somewhere sensible, say near a bed or somewhere there might be throw cushions. No way. Men. Such pains in the ass.