Excerpt
Heavy footsteps roused me from my
stupor. I don’t know how long exactly I’d been sitting in the bathtub, staring
off at nothing, pondering the catastrophe my life had become. Couldn’t have
been too long since sunlight still lit the room.
The
footsteps came closer and closer. And then they entered the room. Oh, shit. I
froze, not even daring to breathe. There was a loud yawn, followed by the
cracking of joints. Then a large hand reached in beside the closed shower
curtain and turned on the tap. A torrent of ice cold water poured down. It was
like a billion itty-bitty knives stabbing at my skin. All of the scratches and
raw patches from earlier stung like shit. I gritted my teeth, shoulders hiked
up to around my ears as if that would provide any protection.
Yep,
I sat there, all huddled up, listening to the man take a leak.
Awesome.
Just plain awesome.
Wasn’t
like I could jump out and interrupt the man midflow. 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. This was all Chris’s fault, the bastard. I’d just have to make the best of
it and hope this guy had a sense of humor.
Just
as the water began to warm, he flushed the john and freezing cold water
drenched me anew. I’d been about to open my mouth and announce my presence, but
that put an end to that. Needles of icy cold water pelted down on my skin. I
fucking froze. Teeth gritted, I suppressed a squeal of pain and rage.
Then
the shower curtain flew back.
“Shit!”
The man was very tall, very naked, and very surprised. He stumbled back a step,
a hand clutching at the bench behind him, eyes furious and wide. “What the
hell?”
Good
question.
I
opened my mouth, closed it. Language skills had apparently abandoned me. In
total silence, the man and I stared at each other.
Even
with no clothing to take cues from, the dude was clearly the epitome of cool.
He looked about my age, or maybe a little older. He had longish red-blond hair,
dark blue eyes set in an angular face, a lean but muscular torso covered in
tattoos, and a rather large cock. Not that I meant to check him out, it’s just
kind of hard to ignore a penis and scrotum when they’re dangling right in front
of your face. I tilted my head, trying to get some perspective. Every
viewpoint, however, was equally shocking. There was dick as far as the eye
could see.
And
I should stop ogling him. Right.
“Hi.”
With a calm I didn’t even vaguely feel, I reached up and turned off the tap.
Much better. His monster penis had momentarily derailed me, but I was back on
track now. Time to talk myself out of this mess. “Hey.”
“What
the fuck are you doing in my house?” he asked flatly.
“Right.
Well . . .” I neatly tucked my dripping-wet shoulder-length blond hair back
behind my ears. As if that would help. My winged eyeliner and false lashes were
probably halfway down my cheeks. “I, um, I . . .”
“You
what?”
“I’m
Lydia,” I said, the first thing to come to mind.
No
reply. His handsome face, however, took on a distinctly pissy expression. Even
his strawberry-blond hair seemed a fiery hue. Fine, so we weren’t swapping
names and getting cozy. Fair enough. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was,
keeping my eyes on his face. The struggle was real. It might have been due to
my not seeing one in so long, but his dick seemed almost hypnotic. The thing
had magical powers, I swear. It was so big and mobile, subtly swaying every
time he moved. My gaze kept darting down despite my best efforts.
Finally
he put me out of my misery, grabbing a towel off a nearby rack and wrapping it
around his waist. It made for quite the hot-looking miniskirt. Not just any man
could have pulled off such a look.
But
back to my explanations.
“Ah,
firstly, I’d just like to say sorry about this.” I waved a hand at him and his
bathroom and, well everything, really. “For any inconvenience I might have
caused here in your bathroom.”
The
guy stood tall, looming over me with his hands on hips. Tattoos covered his
arms to his wrists. Still, he had a whole lot of sinew on show. Definitely not
the kind of man you’d want to mess with. Dude could probably snap me in half in
a second. 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.
Shit.
I really should have chosen another house.
“I
don’t normally break into people’s places and hide out in their tub,” I
babbled, on the verge of incoherency. “So I’m really sorry. Seriously. So very
sorry. But you’ve got a lovely home.”
“That
so?”
“Not
that, I mean, that’s not why I’m here. I just . . .” Fucking hell, my mind was
a disaster. I took a deep breath, letting it out nice and slow, before trying
again. “I love the old Arts and Crafts bungalows, don’t you? They have such
soul.”
His
brows drew tight. “Are you high? What the fuck are you on?”
“Nothing!”
“You
haven’t been popping any pills or snorting something?”
“No,
I swear.”
“Nothing
to drink?”
“I
haven’t had anything,” I said, but the suspicion and anger still lined his
face. Paired with the stubble on his chin and the shadows beneath his eyes, my
unwilling host was one tired, cranky man. Couldn’t really blame him.
“So
you’re completely sober,” he said.
“Completely.”
A
pause.
“You’re
thinking I’m bat-shit crazy now, aren’t you?” I asked, despite the answer
sitting plain as day on his pretty face.
“Pretty
much, yeah.”
Oh,
god. “I’m not. I’m sane.”
“You
sure about that?” He looked down the long line of his nose at me, distinctly
unimpressed. “Seen a lot of weird shit in my years. Stuff like you wouldn’t
believe. But I got to tell you, right now, this . . . you, are taking the
cake.”
“Great.”
And I was so definitely probably going to jail. Someone ought to give me a
cookie. My ability to take a bad situation and make it worse today was amazing.
“You
touch any of my stuff?” he asked. “Take anything?”
“Yes,
your sofa is cunningly hidden down the front of my dress. You won’t believe
where I fit the TV.”
Again,
his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Between you and me, probably not the time to be
funny, babe.”
Crap.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You have every right to be mad.”
“Damn
right, I do.”
I
nodded, contrite. “I haven’t touched any of your things.”
The
dude just stood there, staring. Lots going on behind his eyes. None of which I
could read.
A
stray tear trickled down my face. It must have saved itself up just for the
occasion. Gah. How pathetic. I sniffled, brushing it off hurriedly with the
back of my hand.
“Fuck’s
sake,” he muttered.
“I
really am sorry about this. The truth is, I just needed somewhere to hide for a
little while. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
He
sighed. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Lydia?”
“Yes?”
Despite my best efforts, my voice trembled slightly.
“Look
at me.”
I
did so. He still looked cranky and crazy cool while I remained a hot mess.
“I’m
Vaughan,” he said.
“Hi.”
He
tipped his chin and silence fell between us once more.
With
the tip of his tongue rubbing at his upper lip, he looked at the wide open
window, and then back at me. Yep, that’s how I’d gotten in. Houdini had nothing
on my mad skills.
“What
are you doing in my house, Lydia? The truth.”
“It’s
kind of a long story, actually.” Along with being excruciatingly embarrassing.
But then, what wasn’t about this day?
Vaughan
crossed his arms over his wide chest and waited me out while I fussed with my
ruined skirts and tried to come up with a way to spin the story to not make me
look a complete fool. Christ, the holes in my stockings were huge. On one side,
my entire foot stuck out. So screwed.
Vaughan
crouched by the side of the tub, resting his arms on the side. Up close the
shadows under his eyes seemed even bigger and darker against his pale skin. And
there were bags big enough to use as carry-ons. Despite the strong lines of his
lean face, the man looked done-in. Ready to sleep for a hundred years.
I
knew that feeling.
“Looks
like a wedding dress,” he said quietly.
“Yes,
it is. I was going to get married today.” I took a deep breath, wiping my face
with my hands. Just as expected, my palms came away smeared with black eye
makeup. “Ah, boy. I must look a wreck.”
Without
comment, Vaughan reached out and grabbed a towel, handing it to me. It was sort
of threadbare, old. Dated like the rest of the house. I hadn’t seen more than
one room, but real estate agents got a feel for these sort of things. Minimal
upkeep for the past five or so years would have been my guess. Perhaps it’d
even been left empty. Bushes out front hid the house from view, so I’d never
gotten a good look at it before.
“Thank
you.” I patted myself dry with the towel as best I could. What remained of my
beautiful dress was a sopping wet ruin. “I’m sorry I broke into your house,
Vaughan. I swear I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
“No,”
he said, his voice deep. “Figured as much. Where’d you come from?”
“The
big house at the back.”
His
brow wrinkled. “You climbed over the fence?”
“Yes.”
Tired,
red-tinged eyes appraised me anew. “That’s a tall fence. Must have been one
hell of an emergency.”
“It
was a disaster.”
For
a long moment he studied me, deep in thought. Then he sighed yet again,
climbing to his feet.
“Are
you going to call the cops on me?” I asked, my throat tight with tension. “I
know you have every right to, I’m not disputing that. I’d just, I’d like to
know. Mental preparation and all that.”
“No.
I’m not.”
“Thank
you. I appreciate that.” My whole body sagged in relief.
Then
he clapped his hands together, startling the crap out of me. “Okay, Lydia.
Here’s what we’re going to do.”
“Yes?”
“I
arrived late this morning, have only had a few hours sleep. If I don’t get some
coffee soon, things are going to get ugly. And you probably need to get dried
off.” With no fuss, he held out his hand. “Let’s get shit sorted out. Then we
can sit down and you can tell me the long story of how the hell you ended up in
my house. Agreed?”
“Agreed,”
I said, voice lightening.
He
pulled me up. Then, with strong hands on my waist, lifted me out of the tub.
Immediately water started dripping off of my saturated dress, pooling on the
scuffed wooden flooring at my feet. Chris would have been distinctly
unimpressed. Chris didn’t like messes. But as Vaughan didn’t seem to care,
neither did I.
“You’re
really not going to call the police?” I asked.
“No.
Hold still,” he said, carefully plucking a fake eyelash from my cheek.
“Thank
you.”
“Your
dress is kind of fucked.” He looked me over from top to toe.
“I
know,” I said sadly.
“I’ll
leave you to get changed.”
“Wait.
Please. I can’t get out of it on my own.”
More
frowning.
“It’s
vintage,” I explained with a grim face. “There’s no zip, just a line of little
buttons up the back.”
“’Course
there is.” Without another word, he turned me around and got started in on said
buttons. As he worked, he hummed beneath his breath, the song vaguely familiar.
“Aren’t
you still mad?” I asked, perplexed.
“Nuh.”
“But
I broke into your house.”
“Window
was open.”
“I
still trespassed.”
Busy
fingers kept working on undoing the dress. “You sat in the tub and cried
because some dickhead fucked you over.”
That
shut me up.
“Or
that’s what I’m assuming, given the dress and all. I take it he’s the one that
gave you that shiner on your cheek?”
“No.
No one hit me. And yes, you assumed right about the being fucked over.” I tried
to look back at him, but I couldn’t see a thing beyond my wild-ass hair.
Impressive how it’d survived the shower. The stylist clearly knew her shit.
“You
sure no one hit you?” He did not sound convinced.
“Yes.
I lost my grip and hit the floor when I was climbing in the window. My home
invasion skills need work.”
“I’d
suggest you try a different career.” He finished with the buttons and took a
step back, scratching his head. “You okay with the dress now?”
“Yes,
thank you,” I told his reflection in the mirror. “For everything, I mean.”
“Sure.”
He almost smiled and gave a small shake of the head as if he couldn’t quite
believe what was going on. Or maybe it was disbelief that he wasn’t kicking me
straight back out the window through whence I’d come.
Lord
knows, it’d shocked the shit out of me.
He
turned toward the door. “See you out there.”
Are you ready to get Dirty?
Dirty is Book One in Kylie Scott’s Dive
Bar Series.
Meet Vaughn & Lydia on April 19th!
Pre-order your copy of
DIRTY here:
Blurb
The last thing Vaughan Hewson expects to find when he
returns to his childhood home is a broken hearted bride in his shower, let
alone the drama and chaos that comes with her.
Lydia Green doesn't know whether to burn down the church or sit and
cry in a corner. Discovering the love of your life is having an affair on your
wedding day is bad enough. Finding out it's with his best man is another thing
all together. She narrowly escapes tying the knot and meets Vaughan only hours
later.
Vaughan is the exact opposite of the picture perfect, respected businessman she
thought she'd marry. This former musician-turned-bartender is rough around the
edges and unsettled. But she already tried Mr. Right and discovered he's all
wrong-maybe it's time to give Mr. Right Now a chance.
After all, what's wrong with getting dirty?
About the Author:
Kylie is a long time fan of erotic love stories and B-grade
horror films. She demands a happy ending and if blood and carnage occur along
the way then all the better. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two
children and one delightful husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around
on the internet.
Kylie is represented by Amy Tannenbaum at the Jane Rotrosen
Agency, New York.
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