Writing Dirty (BTU Alumni, #5)

by Alley Ciz

I’d burn the world down before I let anything happen to Madison Belle McClain.

Samantha Whiskey’s Reapers would beat Maria Luis’ Blades or if Pippa Grant’s Thrusters would be the champs, and don’t even get me started on Helena Hunting’s or Maya Hughes’ books.”

She means the world to me too. Oh shit. I love her. I thought I was in trouble battling it out with my attraction, but to have feelings—real, deep, make-her-my-forever type feelings—changes things.

“We’re drinking tea-key-la,” she whisper-shouts. “Last I checked, you’re old enough to do so legally.” “Yeah…but…you’re a pirate, Hook.” Her eyes dart around the room, looking for who the fuck knows. “Pirates drink rum.” Another whisper-shout.

“I was a perfect gentleman. I didn’t even sneak a peek. Because, baby—” I suck in a breath at both the endearment and how he bends, balling his fists and balancing on his knuckles, invading my personal space. The scent of the sea intensifies and a hint of minty toothpaste hits me as he brushes the tip of his nose across my cheek then down the shell of my ear. “—when I get my hands on you again, it will be so much more than copping a feel.”

Dex, Hook, Daddy—whatever you want to call him is fine by me. Eww. Don’t call him Daddy. I don’t know. *shrugs* I think he more than earned it the way he dicked her down last night.

“No matter how big or small, you came to me if you needed anything.” I kiss up and down her neck. “You trust me because I’ve always been your shelter in the storm.”

I may have told her she sees me as her shelter in the storm, but she’s always been my anchor.

That’s not love. Love is… Love is going to bed thinking of the person even when you were with them all day. Love is wanting to share good news with them when you get it. Love is being there for the bad even if you can’t be there physically. Love is sharing all the stupid stuff that makes you laugh or think of them just because. It’s needing to be near them because their presence alone is enough to make you feel better. It’s finding excuses to touch them in the most mundane ways because the

physical contact settles something deep inside you. It’s joking and teasing and giving each other crap.

It’s accepting their weirdness just because. It’s knowing when to push and when to not, being able to read each other and give them what they need. Holy motherfucking...

“I’m going to give you the best damn happily ever after you’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you, Tink.” My eyes fall shut as he cups me behind the head and strokes a thumb across my cheek. I love these moments where he’s possessive yet gentle. “Even when we fought it, you were always mine and I was always yours.”