Down and Dirty: A Single Dad Bad Boy Romance (Small Town Bad Boys Book 3)

by Annette Fields

  "You have kids?" I asked before my mind could register if I should be asking personal questions.

  "One," he answered curtly. "My daughter."

  "Oh."

  More questions bubbled up in my brain but I kept my mouth shut. Solomon didn't appear to be married or with a girlfriend. Then again, he didn't appear to live in the suburbs and be a soccer-dad either.

  "She's staying with a neighbor tonight," he said, which answered one of my questions. "You'll probably meet her later."

  "Okay."

  We stood awkwardly for a moment until Solomon cleared his throat and turned away.

  "Go ahead and shower if you want. There's a basket of hotel soaps and stuff you can use. I'll grab a shirt and pants you can wear. My neighbor can help you get some actual women's clothes tomorrow."

  "Thank you, Solomon," I mumbled shyly, unsure how to receive such generosities such as soap, clothing, and a bed to sleep in.

  "Don't mention it. And you can call me Sol," he smirked over his shoulder as he swaggered down the hallway.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SOLOMON

  "Where's your trusty knife?"

  Natalie gave just a hint of a smile, the first one I saw since I first laid eyes on her that afternoon looking like a frightened deer in a den of tigers.

  "I tucked it under my pillow," she replied as she came down the stairs with far less skittishness than when she first went up them.

  "Way to stay prepared," I chuckled and yanked my attention back to the Warriors game on TV to avoid staring at her.

  Her smile made my heart skip half a beat. It didn't help my situation that she was attractive, even beautiful after a hot shower removed layers of grime from her skin, which was pale and flushed with a soft pink. She stayed in the shower for a damn near two hours and I imagined her vigorously scrubbing her skin under the scalding water, as if that would erase every touch she didn't consent to.

  Her hair was dark blonde and framed her face like a halo. Big blue eyes that took up most of her face and a tiny nose made her look like a doll. It was no wonder why Antigua held her captive. With a gorgeous face like that, she must have turned a huge profit for him.

  Just as the thought flicked a spark of anger in my mind, I happened to look over and notice the pert buds of her nipples poking through my shirt she wore.

  Fuck.

  My dick stirred in response and I tried to casually adjust myself without her seeing. There was no way I could fuck this girl. Her body had been used enough and that didn't even begin to touch on the mental damage it caused her.

  I felt bad for what she went through. None of it was her fault but I also didn't want to stick my dick in crazy. I did that enough times already to learn my lesson.

  No way in hell. Just let her crash here for a couple of days, get the info I need on Antigua, then let her go on her way.

  When I glanced at her again, she was still standing awkwardly at the bottom of the staircase, watching me with her huge eyes like a hawk.

  "You can sit down if you want," I said, gesturing to the couch. "If you're still hungry, I just heated up some lasagna. I already ate so help yourself to the rest of it."

  I smiled at her, secretly hoping to see that hint of a smile on her face again. "You can make your own choices now. Do whatever you feel like doing."

  My heart surged victoriously as her little smirk returned and she happily padded across the tile floor to the kitchen.

  I just happened to look at the square tiles where she stood a moment before and jumped off the couch in horror.

  "Jesus, Natalie!"

  A patch of smeared blood spread about a foot wide on the floor. A trail of bloody footprints followed Natalie to where she stood just outside my kitchen.

  She looked just as horrified as me.

  "Oh, shit! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" she cried, lifting one foot and then the other to reveal her bloody, torn up soles.

  "It's okay," I assured her. "Here."

  Before I could think, I picked her up by the sides of her waist and sat her down on my kitchen island. I could feel the bones of her ribcage and she felt like she weighed nothing, as light as a feather.

  "Let me grab the first-aid kit," I said. "We'll get you cleaned up. Don't worry."

  By the time I grabbed the kit from the downstairs bathroom and returned to the kitchen, droplets of blood gathered on the floor underneath her feet.

  "I'm so sorry," she repeated, red-faced with embarrassment. "I don't know how I didn't notice."

  "It's okay, really." I knelt on the floor in front of her and retrieved gauze pads, Neosporin, and alcohol wipes from the kit and gently took her left ankle in my hand. "This is going to sting."

  "I'll clean up your floor," she continued to mumble apologetically, not seeming to notice as I wiped the blood from the bottom of her foot with an alcohol pad.

  "No, you won't," I replied. "It's nothing a little wiping won't fix. I can't believe some of the shit my daughter manages to spill on the floor. Thank fuck for tile. If I had carpeting though, I might take you up on it," I joked.

  Natalie finally stopped apologizing. She sat silently like a rock as I cleaned the remaining blood from her feet and applied the Neosporin followed by the gauze pads to the open wounds.

  "You don't really feel pain anymore, do you."

  I said it as more of an observation than a question.

  "Sometimes I do," she answered quietly.

  "You really ran for your life back there, huh?"

  "Yeah."

  Motherfucking Antigua. I'm going to make you wish you never fucked me over.

  For some reason I felt oddly protective of this girl. The desire to hurt the scum that hurt her hit me like a slap in the face. People liked to pretend human trafficking or other evil shit didn't exist until it was staring them right in the face like Natalie's bloody feet and her knife under her pillow.

  I didn't know if I believed the bastard was being honest at our agreement. But until now, no one saw Natalie with their own eyes. She had the answers and the key to taking that piece of shit down and deserved a lifetime of reparation for it.

  I finished wrapping up her left foot and moved on to cleaning her right one.

  "You do this a lot?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

  "Ha," I scoffed. "I've cleaned so many boo-boos I could probably fall back on a career as a nurse."

  She was silent for another few moments before asking, "What's your daughter's name?"

  "Araceli." I couldn't help but smile and look up at her as I proudly said my baby's name. "Ari for short."

  "That's pretty," she said softly. "You can call me Nat."

  "I don't think so," I said with a smirk as I wrapped tape around her foot to keep the gauze in place. "I like Natalie. It's much prettier than Nat."

  I finished wrapping her feet in silence. The act of doing so along with our conversation felt oddly intimate, like the awkward first touches of new lovers before going to bed together.

  Even though that would never happen between us.

  "All done," I said, zipping up the first aid bag. "You should feel a lot better tomorrow."

  "Sol."

  The way she said my name was sultry. It matched the way her thin fingers caressed the back of my neck.

  I stood abruptly, thinking she must have touched me accidentally but no.

  She pulled gently forward on my shirt, which I remembered to button up halfway, until her knees straddled on either side of my waist. My hands braced on the island on either side of her.

  "Natalie, what are you--"

  "Thank you, Sol," she breathed as her hands caressed over my chest, trailing down to outline each of my rigid ab muscles. "For taking care of me."

  Her lips brushed against my neck and collarbone, causing my cock to rise to the occasion. Heat and desire surged through me like an electrical current. When she brought one of my hands to her perky breasts as she took a firm handful of my erection, it took all my resolve to
move away.

  "Natalie, stop."

  I removed my hand from her warm, soft flesh despite how much it called to me like a seductive siren.

  The confusion and embarrassment on her face nearly broke my heart. Fuck, this girl needed help. More than I could ever give her.

  “You don’t owe me anything, especially not your body,” I said. “No one owns you anymore.”

  “You don’t want to?” she asked like we were discussing going to the movies.

  “It’s not that, honestly,” I grasped at the right words to say without sounding like a pig on top of trying not to embarrass her more. “You’re beautiful and I would, you know, under… different circumstances. But I promised to not let anything hurt you and that includes mentally.”

  I let out a long breath as if I’d been holding it all day. “Doing this would be taking advantage of you. I’m not going to do that.”

  Her expression was unreadable but she remained silent and practically frozen. Until gingerly she slid off the island to the floor, careful to step around her now-drying trail of blood.

  “I guess I’ll go to sleep then,” she said in a monotone voice and started for the stairs.

  “Goodnight, Natalie,” I called after her. She was already up the steps and a few seconds later, I heard the guest bedroom door shut.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my face with my palm and with my other hand, holding my rigid cock in my fist, desperate to relieve the throbbing ache that went from zero to 100 in mere seconds.

  All she had to do was touch me and barely at that. I responded like a goddamn teenager.

  With a resigned sigh, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled back in front of the TV. I needed a distraction to settle down the raging monster in my pants.

  I should’ve gone to bed too but knew it would be impossible to sleep with the beautiful, broken girl in the room down the hall and the biggest case of blue balls in my life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  NATALIE

  I touched the cool blade of the knife under my pillow as I laid my head down and wondered if I would ever need it again.

  At that point I felt certain that Sol wouldn't attack me. He didn't even want to touch me when I offered myself to him.

  I flipped on my back to stare at the ceiling, sorting through the conflicting thoughts in my mind and sensations in my body.

  I felt confused, embarrassed. Possibly even rejected? I couldn't even begin to explain why. Not even twenty-four hours ago, I would have been thrilled that a man didn't want to force himself inside me. I prayed endlessly that they weren't in the mood for a blue-eyed blonde, and yet hated myself for wishing them on another girl instead.

  But I never got passed up when offered. Until just moments ago in the kitchen. I should have been relieved but I felt the sting of rejection instead.

  And when my hand felt the heat from his skin and the hardness of the muscles underneath, my body had opened up with its own response. My pulse had quickened with desire and wetness pooled at my core. I suddenly wanted to be touched back, to be filled.

  Lust, arousal and the embarrassment of making a wrong move. These feelings and sensations brought back distant memories I hadn't recalled in months. Like butterflies in my stomach when I had crushes on cute guys. Sex bringing pleasure and intimacy rather than pain and disgust.

  Those feelings of flirting, tension, and that fear of rejection that made the whole thing exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time.

  The hazy memories played out in my head like a movie reel. I watched as an outside observer, like they happened to someone else instead of me. The girl in those scenes died at some point and I was all that was left of her.

  At some point during my mental wheel-spinning, I eventually did fall asleep.

  My eyes shot open to light streaming in through the window and faint music playing downstairs. There was no clock in the room but the sun was high in the sky.

  How long have I been out?

  I didn't even remember falling asleep and it was completely nightmare free. For the first time in ages, I felt refreshed and well-rested.

  My face grew hot at the thought of facing Sol after my awful attempt at sleeping with him last night. He'd likely have no problem with pretending it never happened, but could I?

  The music grew louder as I hesitantly made my way down the stairs. It was a male singer in a foreign language, probably Italian.

  Humming along with the music as she swept a broom across the floor was a middle-aged woman with curly dark hair, a white blouse, and dark capri pants. I paused halfway down the steps, darting my eyes around for any signs of Sol.

  The woman must have sensed me and looked up, pausing her sweeping.

  "Ah, you must be Natalie," she said, her eyebrows raising above her large brown eyes as she took me in. "You are prettier than I expected but hey, that's Sol's taste for ya. Skinny as a twig, though. Get enough sleep, did ya?"

  I blinked, slightly intimidated. This woman had a New York accent and clearly was the type to say whatever was on her mind.

  "Um, yeah. Thanks," I managed to get out, staying glued to my spot.

  "Don't look so scared, kid. I'm not gonna bite your head off." The woman gave a kind smile. "I'm Netta. Sol's neighbor, housekeeper, babysitter, what have ya. Basically his wife with none of the benefits, not that I want any with that guy! But hey, I'm bored and retired, he pays cash, and I love that cute kid of his. So it ain't a bad gig."

  "Uh, nice to meet you." I felt a bit overloaded with information but more at ease. "Where is Sol?"

  "Working. He'll be home with Ari in a couple hours when he picks her up from school."

  I nodded, relieved that we wouldn't be alone together. Hopefully, his daughter would keep him busy enough to dissipate any lingering awkwardness and tension between us.

  “Hey, you hungry?” Netta asked. “I made a big bowl of pasta primavera that should last about a week. Lord knows that kid needs her damn vegetables.”

  “Thanks,” I said, continuing down the stairs with my stomach growling. Since having access to real food, I became insatiable.

  My bloody red footprints from last night were gone. Netta made no mention of them as she continued her sweeping so I assumed Sol cleaned them up before she got there. Did she even know what Sol’s real job was? What did he tell her about me?

  The question stabbed at me as I helped myself to a bowl of colorful pasta and vegetables, but I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries. I went with a more innocent question instead.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Well, it’s just past noon. So depending on what time you went to bed, anywhere between twelve and sixteen hours. Oh, I almost forgot!” Netta set aside her broom and dustpan and picked up several shopping bags from the couch. When she brought them over to me, my eyes widened at brand names like Anthropologie, Kate Spade, and Marc Jacobs printed on the sides of the bags.

  “Sol said you needed clothes so I picked up some things for ya this morning. Didn’t know your size or style so I went to a few different places and got things in different sizes. Just pick out whatcha want and I’ll return the rest. Although you might wanna size up a little ‘cause you could afford to gain a few pounds, missy.”

  “I can’t accept any of this!” I cried. “This stuff is too nice.”

  Netta gave me a curious look.

  “Listen, Natalie. You seem like a nice, bright girl who got her future stolen away from her. I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through but I know you’ve suffered. The least you deserve is some nice clothes that won’t fall apart in a year.”

  As if controlled by someone else, my fingers reached out to touch the soft fabric of the Anthropologie sweater in the closest bag to me. That would feel like pure heaven on my skin.

  “At least let me pay you back for them,” I pleaded. “I don’t know when or how, but--”

  “Sol is reimbursing me. Don’t worry about it,” Netta said with a hand up. “Trust m
e, honey. Don’t worry about money.”

  “I can’t just give nothing back!” I said. “He’s already letting me stay here and protecting me.” And he won’t even take my body as payment like all other men have.

  “Tell ya what.” Netta reached into a closet and pulled out a feather duster on a long, extendable rod. “You’re taller and lighter than my wide Italian ass. Finish your lunch and get the cobwebs in the high corners. I don’t need to be standing on ladders and breaking my damn neck.”

  I smiled widely, feeling strangely ecstatic at the thought of doing something mundane, normal and useful besides being something for a man to stick his dick into.

  “I’ll get started on it right now.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SOLOMON

  I finished my cigarette and tossed it before pulling up to Ari's school. I'd never been a big smoker but when I did light up, I didn't want her to see me do it.

  And Natalie got me so fucking wound up last night, I wanted to smoke through an entire pack. Making moves on me wasn't entirely unexpected but I'd seen sex slaves do their thing before. They didn't usually seem so... into it.

  She wasn't just servicing me.

  She wanted to touch me.

  I felt the heat of desire from her lips and her fingers on my skin. Her nipple was a stiff little diamond under my thumb before I pulled away. If I had slid my hand down to the honey pot between her legs, I was sure she'd be overflowing.

  And fuck me, I wanted her too. Who wouldn't? With those wide innocent eyes, gorgeous lips and a body made for fucking, any man would be blind to not want her. All on top of the fact that she was staying at my house for an undetermined length of time.

  But I couldn't touch her. With everything she'd been through, it would be beyond fucked up to do that to a person.

  I’d never call myself a good man. But I sure as fuck was a better one than Antigua.

  I was definitely bad enough to make all the soccer moms pant and drool when I came to pick up my kid. Ari didn't notice me smirking at a busty redhead when she yanked open my passenger door and leaped across the console at me.