Dirty Love (Dirty Girl Duet #2)(23)

Who am I kidding? They definitely had a thing. The red carpet pics of the two of them were snapped regularly for months.

My thoughts must be clear on my face, because Cav is studying me. “She’s a good friend. That’s all.”

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t have to. She was a great date to premieres because I didn’t want to take someone who was going to expect more, and she was going through a nasty divorce. She’s good people, and definitely a helpful friend to have in this business. Basically, she’s Hollywood royalty. Born and raised in this business, so she was able to teach me the ins and outs and tell me who I could and couldn’t piss off.”

“And you actually listened to her?”

His chest shakes against my side before the deep chuckle hits my ears. “Sometimes. Not all the time.”

“Who’s this Peyton guy? Why’d you break his face?”

Cav’s chuckle evaporates and he stills. “Not important.”

I pull myself out from under his arm so I can face him. “That sounds like bullshit.”

He sighs, looking to the ceiling before finally meeting my gaze. “That’s how I found out about the ad. Little punk wanted to go apply in person. He’s a piece of shit, and didn’t understand how to keep his mouth shut after I told him he needed to forget reading it.”

“So you shut it for him?”

A single nod.

“You’re such a caveman.”

A smirk tilts the corners of Cav’s mouth. “Call it like you see it.”

I don’t have time to react as he ducks his shoulder and tosses me up and over it.

“Cav!”

“Just showing you how much of a caveman I can be, baby girl.” He heads for the door and pauses in the entryway. “Now where should I take you?”

His hand lands on my ass with a light smack just as my stomach growls too loudly for either of us to miss.

Cav turns away from the bedroom. “I guess that answers that. Time to feed my woman.”

And that’s how I get my first tour of Cav’s house. Upside down and over his shoulder.





Having Greer sit on a bar stool in my sprawling kitchen, sipping a glass of Napa chardonnay while I peruse takeout menus and we debate dinner choices, is everything I’ve wanted for years.

I finally feel like I can offer her a life that’s up to her standards. I’m so far removed from the guy who lived in a 400-square-foot studio apartment with more water stains on the ceiling than paint on the walls. Back in those days, I could read it in her eyes—why doesn’t he ask me to come home with him? Because home was nothing I could be proud of, and I didn’t want Greer to see me that way. Pride is a dangerous thing, but when it’s all you’ve got, it’s everything.

We decide on a whole spread of Thai food, and I make the call.

“Thirty minutes,” I tell her, and Greer’s stomach rumbles again. “You gonna make it?”

She takes another sip of her wine and nods. “Of course. Although, I can’t promise not to be tipsy by the time it gets here.” She lifts the almost-empty glass toward me, and I pick up the bottle and pour another measure in. “Empty stomach plus alcohol, and we know what can happen . . .”

“That’s not always a bad thing.” I like the idea of Greer tipsy enough to lose her inhibitions, but still together enough to know exactly what she’s doing.

“I figured you’d say that.”

I pour myself a Scotch, neat, and lift the glass. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re already thinking about how you’re going to f*ck me tonight.”

She doesn’t mince words.

I tip back a sip of the Scotch. “You’re not wrong.”

“So, what’s it going to be?” She lifts a dark eyebrow. “How do you want me, Cav?”

Tonight I don’t want anything crazy. I just want to have her under me in my own bed, like I’ve imagined for years. It sounds too sentimental to say aloud, though.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see. First, food.”




I’m falling in love with her again. It isn’t the second time. Or the third. Or the fourth. With Greer, it seems to happen constantly. In Belize, it happened over margaritas and again over jellyfish stings, and tonight it’s over pad thai and tom yum soup.

After we’ve stacked the leftover takeout containers in the fridge, I lead her into the media room. She may be expecting something depraved and wicked, but I want a normal night. The kind we never really got to have together. I bring up the movie menu and hand her the remote.

“Your choice, baby girl. What do you want to watch?”

Greer looks down at the remote and then back up at me. “Really? You’re a guy handing over the remote? What do I owe you for this?”

“Hush.” I press a kiss to her lips and walk her backward until she bumps into the edge of the plush gray leather sofa and plops down onto the cushion. “Any more sass and I’m taking your movie-picking privileges away.”

Greer clutches the remote tight to her chest. “No way in hell. You can’t take this back. It’s not every day I get the chance to watch your movies with you.”

I wince at her words. “You’re not really going to pick something of mine, are you?”