So Dirty, So Sweet (completed)

ONE

DYLAN

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" Weston, my business partner,

exclaimed from the front passenger seat of my service car as we

pulled away from the curb.

Restraining myself from directing the driver-a habit of mine,

surely not useful now when I'd been out of New York City for so long

-I looked behind me out the rear window at the two figures we'd left

behind. Donovan Kincaid, another one of my partners at Reach, Inc.

along with Weston King, was chasing down a girl who worked in the

office-Sabrina Lind.

I had only just met Sabrina this evening. The woman was

pleasant, smart, straightforward. Had a good head on her shoulders.

Weston and I had dined with her and her younger sister and had just

been finishing up when Donovan had come in, all blustering and

noble and knightly.

"Donovan called himself her boyfriend," Weston said

incredulously, recalling the scene we'd just left. "Was I the only one

who heard that? I can't be that drunk."

It had been an out-of-character declaration for the usually tightlipped and brooding Donovan, but I'd seen this side of him before,

many years in the past. The last time he had given a woman his

heart.

If anyone asked me, he was wasting his time with this one.

Sabrina had said several things over dinner that suggested she was

no longer entertained by the circus that surrounded romantic notions.

"I heard it," the young woman sitting next to me answered.

Now this one-Audrey, the younger sister whom I'd volunteered

to see home-a man would have a much easier time trying to woo

her. She'd made that clear over dinner as well.

Too bad she was that kind of girl. The kind of girl who wanted a

man to love her before she lifted her skirt. Otherwise...

I turned my head slightly, imperceptibly, and slid my eyes down

her form, pausing on the sweet curve of her breasts, watching her

chest rise and fall with her breath. My gaze had traveled this journey

several times this evening, but now I was lucky enough to have the

added view of her legs, which had been hidden under the table

before. They were long and toned, a little curve in just the right

place.

"I heard it," she said again, "and it was so romantic."

The swoon in her voice made me chuckle. God, she was young.

Younger than whatever ridiculous young age she actually was. Who

the hell even believed in romance anymore?

"I don't understand," Weston muttered, combing his hand through

his hair. "I'm Donovan's best friend. I knew he was sleeping with her,

but I didn't know he was her boyfriend. I didn't know he was into her.

I was supposed to be into Sabrina. When did this happen? Where

have I been?"

Oh. That was right. Weston King believed in love and

relationships.

He turned his head to look at both of us in the backseat. "I'm

seriously asking here."

I glanced at Audrey. Her expression said that she had been in the

know, but her lips were sealed.

That left me to console my partner. "You've probably been too

distracted with that Dyson pussy you've been banging," I was

definitely still intoxicated. I didn't normally use such crass language

in front of a lady. Especially such a young lady.

"Hey," Weston said, pointing a stern finger in my direction.

"Elizabeth is not just some pussy I've been banging. I'm going to

marry her."

Never mind that their engagement was part of a business ruse.

Despite the fact that it counted for nothing, Weston seemed to have

grown fond of the girl-even as he bemoaned the loss of Sabrina.

It was exhausting.

"You're exhausting," I told him.

"I'm exhausting?" He seemed baffled by the idea that he would

exhaust anyone.

"The entire lot of you. More exhausting than the flight across the

pond. All of you are intelligent creatures normally. I wouldn't have

gotten into business with partners who gave in to the whims and

fancies of human nature. It takes a clear head, your feet on the

ground, your priorities straight, to be as successful as we have been

with our company.

"But now the lot of you have gone and eaten some fruit from the

tree of temptation. Drank the potion number nine. Watched one too

many Netflix Christmas specials, because you've suddenly all

descended into the ridiculous camp of men who fall in love with

women."

"Wait," Weston halted me. "I never said I was in love with

Elizabeth Dyson. I only said I was going to marry her."

"You spent the entire dinner pining after her. Pining, Weston King.

Surely pining is a sign of love." I turned to the audience member that

I knew would be on my side.

"Yes, indeed," Audrey nodded, with a bob of her head that was

somehow both girlish and sexy as hell. "Pining is Love 101. If a girl

came to me and said the guy had told her he was pining after her?

That's like popping the question."

"Exactly like," I said straight-faced. I was being sarcastic, of

course, but the girl did make me want to smile.

Among other things.

I stretched my arm across the back of the seat bench, casually,

making myself comfortable. Not making a move. No, not that.

"I am not in love with Eliza-"

"And on top of your pining..." I said, speaking loudly over

Weston. His denial, which he was surely about to deliver in full, was

infuriating and, frankly, patronizing, and I refused to listen to more

than a second of it. "We have Donovan, who declares a relationship

with a woman on a public street, for crying out loud, in front of his

partners. I thought for sure that man, of all of you, had reason." He

must have forgotten how miserable he'd been the last time he'd

given his heart, albeit ten years ago.

Soon enough, he'd remember.

"And then we have Nate," I continued. A man of varied sexual

pleasures and interests, Nathan Sinclair had been another fly I'd

never expected to drop. "When I'd had drinks with the man last night,

he was talking about one particular woman like she hung the moon.

Soon it will just be me and Cade."

I leaned closer toward Audrey, since she probably didn't know

anything about our fifth partner who headed the Tokyo office. "No

one will ever love Cade, even if he goes pansy on us. That's a man

that even a mother wouldn't love. He's one of my best friends. I

ought to know."

Weston harrumphed from the front seat, completely indignant,

but I noted a hint of optimism, as though he hoped I were right about

his future, and that he'd be leaving the bachelor life for good.

He really had gone bananas over that Dyson girl. Poor sucker.

I stole another glance at Audrey, curious at how badly I'd

offended her with my speech, love-cheerleader that she was.

But when I turned in her direction, I hadn't expected that she'd

already be staring at me.

The flush in her round cheeks as she

looked quickly away sent a jolt to my todger.

I should have been ashamed of myself.

But I wasn't.

She was a very attractive young lady. I couldn't help how my

body reacted. I'd been respectful. For the most part.

"This is me," Weston said, pointing out the window to his building.

My driver pulled over next to a large bank of snow. To be fair, the

entire street was banked with snow, lingering from the storm the day

before.

"Guess I'm going snowshoeing," Weston said with a sigh. He

stepped out of the car and immediately cursed, the door slamming

before I could make out the full extent of his blaspheme.

I leaned over Audrey, and not just because I wanted to smell the

rose bouquet in her perfume, but so that I could roll the window

down and call after my partner.

"Have a good Thanksgiving," I said, "if I don't see you again

before the holiday." He was flying off somewhere later in the week-

Utah or Kansas-the United States Midwest was always a blur to

this Hampshire native.

"You too, friend. It was good seeing you. If even briefly. And nice

meeting you, Audrey." He turned, stepping into the snow. "Fuck.

These were a brand-new pair of Giacomettis."

"You can put them out with the rubbish, along with your balls.

Since you're obviously not using them anymore." I rolled up the

window before he could throw back a dig of his own, but he got me

with a simple flip of the bird.

I sat back in my seat, accidentally grazing my hand along

Audrey's bare knee.

Perhaps, not so accidentally, but I played it perfectly-the

shocked drawback from the touch and an immediate apology,

stammering so that she would indeed believe that the brush was

innocent. With all the predators these days, I certainly didn't want to

be confused for one.

Or at least I wanted to be my own breed of predator. The kind

that knew when to behave. Though the shock of the touch had sent

fire through my blood, it wouldn't be followed up with any pouncing.

We drove in silence for several minutes, a thick silence. Too

thick. Too heavy, making the car hot and stuffy and tense.

I loosened my tie and stole another glance in her direction. She

seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. Had I offended her after all

with my touch?

Then I remembered the conversation from before Weston exited

the car. That was more likely the cause of any hard feelings.

Normally, I would brush the whole thing off. Let her be offended. I

wasn't changing my stance on romance to please her.

The tension between us, though, wouldn't dissipate. It seemed

filled with more than just the words of what I had said. It was growing

and breathing, and I felt the need to claw through it, the way you

claw through bedsheets when they've twisted around you during a

nightmare.

"You've been quiet," I said. Obvious. To the point. "Have I rained

on your love parade?"

She twisted her head in my direction, her eyes catching a

reflection of a streetlight making them spark in the darkness.

"You can't rain on my parade," she proclaimed with a smile, as

though she were old Dolly herself. "I am firm in my faith." She

swiveled a little more in her seat, angling herself so that her body

was pointing in my direction. "Are you quite sure that you're firm in

your disbelief?"

Heat traveled down my spine, liquid and molten. That's what this

tension was, then-not of a disgruntled nature, but of the sexual. I'd

been attracted to her, yes. I hadn't allowed myself to believe it might

be mutual.

I studied her face. She had light almond eyes that were deep set

in a pear-shaped face, her pallor flawless. Not a single line marred

her skin. She was lovely. Delicious, I imagined. Fresh, like a peach.

Her bee-stung lips, turned up on both sides below her apple cheeks,

portrayed her as innocent.

I liked believing she was that innocent. It made it more fun to

imagine what those lips could be taught. What they could be

introduced to.

I'd sworn off love years ago, but not sex. Never sex. And Audrey

Lind was all sorts of temptation, the kind I knew better to stay away

from. She was too romantic. She was too American. She was too

young. Much too young. I was definitely old enough to be her father.

Probably.

Definitely.

I didn't want to think about that.

She was also the sister of a subordinate, which felt highly

inappropriate, especially since I was only in town for the week.

Donovan might have gotten involved with the staff, but at least he'd

seemed serious about it. A fling was another thing altogether, not as

polite.

And none of that mattered since she was so very young.

"You're hesitating," she said, her smile broadening as though

she'd won some sort of trophy. "Are you unsure of your answer?"

I had to remind myself of the question. "No. My commitment to

refute love and relationships in all forms remains unwavering." My

eyes flickered to her plump lips. The delectable mouth.

"I wonder if you're lying." Before I could offer a protest she went

on. "Which isn't why I was quiet. I was thinking about Weston's

situation. Not the current one, but how he was before he met

Elizabeth. I'm normally not into players, but he's reformed. And his

past has advantages."

Her words were a fishhook. If I were a smart little fishy I would

swim away as fast as I could.

I was a smart fishy. I was.

But I liked to swim as close to the bait as possible. Just to see

what it was.

"What exact benefits does Weston King have in being a former

playboy who now thinks he's head over heels for a woman he's fakeengaged to? The first woman he's ever spent more than a weekend

with, might I add." It was one of the messiest messes I had ever

imagined.

"Well. Um." Her eyes fluttered downward and her cheeks

darkened a bit. "Weston figured out what he was doing before he fell

for Elizabeth. So when they were together, it was...you know." She

rubbed her lips together-believe me, I was watching everything she

did with that mouth. "In the bedroom, I mean."

"Are you saying that you are not...? That you haven't...?" I

cleared my throat, floundering a bit with how I was asking this nearstranger about her virginity. It was like the opening of a poorly written

porno.

Holy mother of God, I was going to be fantasizing about this for

quite some time.

"Oh, no," she said in a rush.

And to my relief. I couldn't handle the weight of knowing that and

later having to get out of the car to see her to the door of her

apartment building.

"I'm not that innocent," she went on. "I've had boyfriends. Two

serious. Long-term, each of them. Very committed, very in love with

both of them. And, maybe, even, either one of them could have been

the guy. You know, The Guy? The Forever Guy?"

The fairy tale. Yes, I knew that story.

She was in a car now with me though. Not with me, but she

wasn't with anyone else either, from what I'd gathered during the

night. So those fairy tales had obviously ended. The way that every

fairy tale eventually does and life returns back to reality.

"So what happened?" I asked, guessing she was about to reveal

the flaw in her religion.

"Our sex life happened. Or didn't happen. My friends used to tell

me about all these filthy, hot, dirty things they were doing with their

boyfriends. Really sexy, adventurous things. You know the way girls

share everything. And my guys? Missionary. Every time. I swear to

God. Once the boredom in the bedroom became obvious, it seeped

elsewhere in our relationships. No matter how much I hinted or

pushed to explore new things, my guys were always as ignorant as I

am."

My trousers were suddenly much too tight. Oh, the things I could

show her. The ways I could be with her. If every man had only ever

been on top of her, rutting around inside like some horny little

teenager-had she ever even had an orgasm? My body pulsed with

the want to show her the sweetness of expertise.

But that couldn't happen. For all the reasons I'd gone through

before. Whatever those reasons were. They had left my mind at the

moment, but there had been many. Good reasons.

Yet, even as I knew where this little car ride couldn't go, it

seemed we were suddenly closer to each other. Audrey had

unbuckled her seatbelt and smoothly slid across the bench toward

me, and I hadn't even noticed.

I swallowed.

"I think your story of two men who could've been the one but

ended up not, proves your theory of there being a one at all as

flawed." My voice was still surprisingly steady. Fortunately. It didn't

belie the pounding of my heart, the tingling of my skin. The rock hard

state of my cock.

"No way. The One still exists. The theory isn't flawed. I had

simply jumped to conclusions too soon. Maybe because I wanted it

too much. Maybe because I wasn't ready yet. I still most definitely

believe in kismet."

Her hand was on my thigh, like a hot iron burning through the

material of my trousers to the skin underneath. It was a warning sign.

A flash of silver threaded through a dead worm.

She lifted her delicate face up toward me, blinking her eyes

innocently. "I'm pretty sure I can convince you kismet exists too, if

you'll just do one thing."

Swim, fishy.

I didn't swim. "What's that?"

"Kiss me."

TWO

AUDREY

"KISS YOU?" he asked, and the wariness in his tone almost made

me doubt myself.

Almost.

Actually, not even almost. More like, I wondered if I should doubt

myself.

But I didn't. I didn't doubt myself at all. Why should I, really?

I'd always been confident. I'd had the good fortune of being

raised first by a father who instilled power in me, and then an older

sister who made sure I felt my worth. Ironically, Sabrina had often

lacked faith in herself, probably because, as the oldest, she had felt

the burden of filling the woman-of-the-household role at such an

early age, our mother having died young and then our father only a

handful of years later.

And, to be honest, mothering wasn't Sabrina's strong suit. It

made sense that she struggled with her self-esteem, as she'd been

thrown into that role when she'd never asked for it. I loved her

grotesquely, exactly the way she was-strong, opinionated, and

smart as hell-but she tended to be too strong for much of the

traditional world. Too opinionated. Too smart. Weren't women

supposed to be dainty and quiet and demure? Sabrina didn't buy into

that, and I so very much appreciated her paving the way for me to

walk behind her with my head held high, no matter what form of

femininity I wore.

So I felt pretty secure with myself for the most part. I knew who I

was-talented, but not quite talented enough to pursue a career

based on selling my artwork. Smart enough to understand the

chemistry and archeology that went into my nearly completed

masters of art conservation. Attractive-no one would ever confuse

me for a model, but I did turn heads. I certainly wasn't desperate. I

got to choose who I paid attention to, and when I liked someone, I

told him. I had no reason to play hard to get.

But even though I was fun and romantic, I never felt like I wasn't

grounded or that I needed someone else to anchor me. I especially

never needed a man for that.

Yet, I did like having a man in my life. When I had a boyfriend, the

world spun around him. I was a love-with-the-whole-heart kind of gal.

I didn't enjoy being alone, and never had. There's a comfort in

knowing someone will always catch you when you fall that Sabrina

had never been able to replace. I'd been single now going on five

months. That had been purposeful. After the last relationship that

had blossomed and thrived everywhere except the bedroom, I'd

decided something had to change.

Finishing school, though, had been the priority, and I hadn't

thought much about how I was going to bring about that change.

Until tonight.

Since I was visiting Sabrina in New York for Thanksgiving break,

I'd intended to give her all my focus, not expecting that her head

would be wrapped up in a guy. Not that I was resentful. She

deserved some happiness.

Just...her preoccupation with Donovan left me free to, well,

notice. Notice Sabrina's boss-the tall, sophisticated, much older Brit

with the chiseled jaw and brown wavy hair. Notice the way his eyes

melted like chocolate as he got more buzzed on wine. Notice how

his gaze lingered on me throughout dinner, despite the two other

people present. Notice the crackle and the spark of electricity that

traveled between us.

Notice how he noticed me.

And, wow, was he fantastic to look at. And listen to. And be

noticed by. It made me beam and pulse. A lot like when Mr. Gregori,

my favorite art teacher, acknowledged my work in class. That was

what Dylan felt like-a professor. A very sexy, very hot professor.

The kind of professor who could teach a girl a thing or two. The dirty

professor who obviously had naughty thoughts about his young

student but was decent enough not to act on it. He let those thoughts

simmer and stew instead.

It wasn't like any other attraction I'd felt before. There was no

pretense. No expectation. Just this raw, primal interest drawing me

to lean in, to angle my body toward him. Drawing me to be bold.

Drawing me to have Ideas.