Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(8)

I’m suddenly suspicious — warning bells going off dimly in my head.

“Are you…” I swallow, my eyes narrowing as I glance around the room for family pictures or something. “Are you married?”

He laughs. Loudly.

“What on earth would make you say that?” Gray glances around with a skeptical look at the supremely masculine design of the room. “Does this place come off like a married guy’s place?”

I chew on that for second before I grin, my face turning hot. “Okay, no, but explain to me how you just so happen to have some women’s clothes I can wear?”

“I don’t.” He grins back. “But I do have a t-shirt that you might drown in, if that works.”

“What, is something wrong with my clothes?”

I mean it as a joke, twirling and glancing down at my open robe and mostly see-through lingerie.

But his look isn’t a joke. The smoldering hunger there and the barely-contained ferocity isn’t a joke at all. I squeeze my legs together, panting a little.

Fuck, I’m wet.

“No,” he says slowly, moving towards me as my pulse thunders inside. “There’s nothing wrong with your clothes.”

“I— I was just, you know, joking,” I say quietly.

“I know.” His eyes burn into me, sending a shiver through my body. He lifts his hand, holding a big white t-shirt that, yes, I’m going to be swimming in. “You might be more comfortable in this, though.”

He slowly reaches past me, and I gasp as his hand brushes my side.

“After your shower.”

His hand pulls back, from behind me, holding a big, soft-looking towel.

I grin again. “Still trying to be smooth?”

Gray chuckles. “Master bath is through there. When you’re done, come meet me in the kitchen.”

His eyes hold mine again, sending a fresh wave of heat through me before he turns and breaks the spell. He starts to walk away, but I stop him.

“Why?”

He turns back. “Excuse me?”

“Why are you doing this?”

I can see the gears behind his eyes turning for one second before he focuses them on me. “Because you’re mine, pretty girl.”

Something hot and pulsing teases through me. Then he turns, and he’s gone, leaving me turned around, upside down, and aching for more.



God this bathroom is huge.

I strip off in the huge mirror that takes up one wall of his enormous master bathroom, and glance at myself. There’ll be some bruises after what Joey did, but I’ll be fine.

I’ve had worse.

The tattoos cover a lot. They always have, which is one of the reasons I’ve collected them over the years. They’re armor — something to protect the me inside. This isn’t the first time I’ve been hit by a guy.

Not by a mile.

My stepdad was the first hitting, and then other touching I hated even more. There was Tim, after high school. That’s the first time I went to the ER and lied.

I sigh, skimming my eyes over my skin once before before I turn and step into the large glass shower. The water is hot, and I feel myself let go a little under the spray.

Gray isn’t like most of the men I’ve known in my life. There’s something extremely different about him.

I roll my eyes as I let the water stream over me.

Right, “different.” God, it sounds like I’ve fallen for him or something supremely silly like that. But then, I have in a way. We’re not strangers, not really. I mean we’ve been talking for weeks.

Well, talking and other things.

I guess as I started to connect more and more to the captivating, sexy mystery man I’d been chatting with, I made up a physical version of him in my head. But this? The real Gray? Yeah, the real him is even better.

The thought crosses my mind that he’s seen me naked a bunch of times, and not the opposite. I’m not bothered by it. I mean I don’t mind being naked. Honestly. But the idea of seeing him though…

I grin to myself. Now that’s a fun thought.

The water keeps beating down, but I freeze under it.

That’s a very fun thought, and it’s one that sticks in my head and won’t let go. After all, we’re both here, in the flesh. He very obviously wants me, and I very much want him, especially after meeting him like this.

…What the hell are we waiting for?

I step from the shower and turn it off. I ignore the towel, and pad out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

I’m done just having him watch me. I’m done imagining what we’d do if we were together in a room for real. We can stop pretending and act on those thoughts for real right now, and the thought has my body tingling with heat.

…Or is this a bad idea?

I bite my lip, but I keep going. I step through his bedroom, trailing water that drips. The central air of his place teases over my bare skin, puckering my nipples into points and making the little barbells that pierce through them send tingles through me

Hell, it's nothing he hasn’t seen before, right?

I can hear him on the phone, but I have a feeling he’ll be ending that soon.

"It's porn, Dylan,” I hear him growl. “And this isn't the seventies. That shit's going to be around forever."