DirtyBeautiful

by Jodie Becker

  He yipped his disappointment, then shot off back under the house.

  Dylan laughed. “I guess I have a dog now.”

  “I suppose so,” Erica said on a smile.

  “I can’t guarantee he isn’t going to steal your underwear.”

  “I guess that’ll give me an excuse to come over.”

  The glimmer left his eyes and Erica bit into her lip, wanting to take back the words. It’d sounded like such a bad come-on and she knew awkward disinterest when she saw it. She glanced over at her clothes on the line. “Well, I bet you have a ton of stuff to do and I better get back home.”

  Dylan dropped a hand on her arm and liquid heat spiraled up her skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as un-neighborly. I’m not in too much of a rush to get down to business. I could do with some coffee. You want some?”

  Erica hesitated.

  “It’s the least I could do for my dog snatching your underwear.”

  Erica smiled at his attempt at a puppy-dog look. “You only just claimed him.”

  “I’m a responsible dog owner.”

  She heaved a sigh. “All right.”

  Teeth flashed. “Great.”

  She followed him up the stairs and through the back door, by a narrow laundry and into the kitchen. Similar to her own kitchen, the 1950s layout was prevalent with its colorful cabinets and open space. Unlike her white-with-yellow bench tops framed with aluminum, his were aquamarine with a stainless steel surface. Unpolished wooden floors free of tiles or vinyl led her to conclude the kitchen was in the process of a makeover.

  “Take a seat.”

  Erica looked around and sat at the breakfast bench while Dylan set the kettle on. “Milk, sugar?” he asked.

  “Yes to both.”

  Dylan filled the cups and dropped two spoonfuls of sugar in her cup.

  “Four,” Erica volunteered.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “A sweet tooth, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  He picked up both cups and handed her one. She curled her fingers around the mug and took a sip. “I see you’ve already started in the kitchen. Plans to gut it?”

  He scanned the room. “No. I like the open feel. I’ll probably sand back the cabinets and stain them. But other than that, the wood around here is in pretty good shape.”

  Erica was impressed. “You know your wood.” Oh crap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  Dylan took a drink of his coffee, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Panties and hard-ons. Sounds like my day is turning out better than what I expected.”

  “Oh God. You must think I’m some type of pervert.”

  “Not as much as you might think.”

  Erica eyed the way his lips compressed to hold back laughter and she scowled. “Yeah, laugh it up.”

  “You’re a breath of fresh air. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone wholesome like you.”

  “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron? A wholesome pervert?”

  “The best kind there is.”

  Erica tipped her cup in silent salute. “I aim to please.”

  Dylan shook his head good-naturedly, the subject closed. Erica shifted in her seat as her finger traced the swirls on the surface. The comfortable silence remained between them, and she was reluctant to break it, but her curiosity won out.

  “So where do you hail from?”

  “Los Angeles.”

  “Really? I’ve never been more than two hours from here. What’s it like over there?”

  Dylan glanced away, a muscle leapt in his jaw. “Busy.”

  “See many movie stars?”

  “Nope.”

  A subtle tension moved across his shoulders and the way his lips tightened at the edges told her he didn’t want to speak about the past. She veered onto a neutral topic. “You’re really good with dogs. Did you have one before?”

  “Yeah. Always had a dog growing up.”

  “I never had pets. My mom was allergic. I suppose she would’ve let me have one of those hairless types, but I didn’t much care for them. I always wanted an Alaskan Malamute or something. They look kind of like a wolf, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Mine would eat yours for breakfast.”

  Dylan scoffed. “He’d have to catch mine first. Besides, you don’t have one.”

  Erica affected a mock scowl. “I could.”

  “He’ll walk all over you. You’ll be over here whining because he won’t let you into the house. A dog needs a strong leader.”

  Erica dropped her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I’m soft?”

  “Undoubtedly soft.” There was something predatory in his tone that Erica chose to ignore.

  “I am not. Kids obey me, and they say the average intelligence of a dog is about nine years old. I can handle nine-year-olds.”

  “But can you handle an alpha?”

  Erica swallowed hard, noticing for the first time how Dylan surrounded her. He trailed his fingers along her shoulder to her elbow. Her breath caught in her throat. “I—I can.”

  Heat swirled in his eyes. He tipped forward and smelled her hair then leaned down so close to her temple his eyelashes swept across her skin. She shuddered and moisture gathered at her core. “Can you? All right. Tell me to back off.”

  Erica’s eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

  Dylan stepped even closer, his breath against her ear. “If you don’t tell me to back off, I think I might kiss you.”

  “Why?” she asked breathlessly.

  He licked the lobe of her ear. “Because I wanna know if you taste like peaches.”

  She turned into him, his kiss featherlight. He captured her bottom lip gently within the warm cusp of his mouth. He suckled, then slid his moist tongue over the soft, plump flesh, adding a small flick at the end of each stroke, so reminiscent of how a man would make love to a woman’s core that it sent a quiver deep within her womb.

  Erica gasped as he made a slow passage across her jaw. His fingers massaged the back of her neck and sent pulses of need down her spine. Her eyelids fluttered as he trailed hot, moist open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck toward her collarbone. She tilted her head back in invitation and felt his lips drag back up to her ear, the blistering erotic sensation punctuated by the hot exhale of his breath.

  “I was right. Peaches.”

  Their lips fused together again and his tongue stroked the crease of her mouth in supplication. He flicked the tip of her tongue with his own, creating a burst of sensual delight as he teased her.

  This man made love with his mouth! Thrusting and withdrawing, entangling and sliding. Everything he did was pure decadence. He broke off the kiss once again to trail a line along her jaw and swirl a sensual circle over her pulse below her ear before using the flat of his tongue to apply soft pressure. His lips closed over the lobe to suck and tease the sensitive flesh. Erica’s head tipped back and she clasped blindly at his shoulders. Her breasts felt heavy, yearning for his touch. Instead his hands pressed against her back and drew her closer.

  Teeth scraped against her tender skin, his hot breath scorched the sensitive shell of her ear before he sought her mouth again. This time Erica answered his silent demand. She tasted his desire for her and reveled in the surreal sensation that he, an unbelievably attractive man, wanted to kiss her. His tongue retreated into the sensuous cavern of his mouth and she followed. He pressed his hips forward and she parted her thighs. The evidence of his arousal rubbed against her and she moaned.

  Suddenly he broke off and took several steps back. Erica stared up at him in confusion. His chest heaved and he raked a hand through his hair. “Jesus.”

  “What’s the matter?” Erica asked.

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “It’s okay, I wanted it.”

  His lips compressed to a white line. Clearly he didn’t want to hear her capitulation. “I didn’t.”

  “Oh!” Stung by his blatant rejec
tion, she pushed off the seat and hurried from the room, steering away from his hand.

  “Erica, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  Ignoring him, she pushed open the door and hurried back to the safety of her own house.

  Dylan cursed as Erica hurried down the porch steps and tried to catch her before she left. She all but ran from his yard and he slowed, acknowledging he didn’t know how to explain himself. What could he say to her anyway? He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He hadn’t wanted to, but for some reason she pressed his buttons and all he could think about was what she’d sound like. Jesus, she’d sound so Goddamn beautiful. Everything he did to her was like a symphony of arousal.

  As though to torture him further, his dick throbbed against the zipper of his pants, calling him all kinds of an idiot. He stomped back to the house and slammed the door shut. Perhaps he was a damned fool. Mary-Mae was more than eager to kick off her panties for him, but he held off only to come home to see Erica’s ass up in the air and speaking about her panties. The summer dress she wore had cupped her luscious breasts to perfection and he longed to feel them in his palms. Sure, Erica was soft, but in a good way.

  He pressed his hands against the kitchen bench and exhaled through his teeth. He couldn’t sleep with every woman who showed the inclination to do so. Drake Van Wulf did that shit, not Dylan Marsden. A thought spiked in his mind and sent a blast of anxiety through him. Did he slip back into his Van Wulf persona with Erica? No, but the fear remained. Meaningless sex was just that. Meaningless. And he couldn’t do it with a nice girl like Erica. But Mary-Mae, his dick taunted. You could’ve hit that hard and she would’ve screamed for more.

  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 marrie
s 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?”