DirtyBeautiful (3 page)

Chapter Two

Erica scooped up her laundry basket in the kitchen, pushed
open the screen door and came to an abrupt halt.

“Get away!” she shrieked at the terrier and his relentless
bounce for her underwear.

At that moment, it grasped her floral full briefs and
hesitated, its eyes wide, brows twitching in a desperate search for escape.
Erica dropped her basket and ran down the steps. The dog shot off as fast as
its little legs could take it. He dove through the hedges and Erika circled the
bush only to see him shoot out from the other side toward a loose panel in the
fence.

“No!”

Stomping by her rose bushes and into the front yard, she
crossed over into Dylan’s property. The absence of his pickup in the driveway
made her pause. She knew where the dog went and wondered if she should break
into the backyard now that the house had an occupant. After a brief battle with
her conscience, she threw up her hands and flicked the catch on the side fence.
It opened to a bare lawn and she made her way to the back of the house. At the
porch, she knelt down and peered underneath. Somewhere beneath the house a
stash of her underwear and bras made a nice bed for the mutt. Wet dirt filled
her nostrils and she caught a flash of fur in the bowels of darkness. He looked
up, her panties dangled in his mouth. She leaned down until her head touched
the grass. If she reached in slowly, maybe she could grab it from him…

“Here, doggy doggy,” she called.

His head tilted to one side, panty swinging temptingly beyond
reach. She shifted closer, then snatched for it. The dog bounced away. Erica
punched the ground then sucked in a breath, desperate to remain calm. “Come out
here, you panty-snatching little mutt,” she crooned through clenched teeth.
“You can have all the underwear you like if you just come here.”

“Not quite the offer I was expecting,” a familiar, dry tone
replied.

Erica jerked upright and turned to face the witness to her
humiliation. Dylan stood by the end of the porch, two tins of paint in his
hands. Awkwardly, she dusted off the dirt on her knees and patted her hair. “Oh
hi. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m in your backyard.”

“Not really. I take it you have a dog?”

She glanced at the cubbyhole the small animal was so fond
of. “No. He’s just some stray that likes to camp under your house and seems to
have an affinity for my undergarments.”

Dylan chuckled. “It’s a guy thing.”

Erica grimaced. “I bet.”

He gestured to the ground. “You need some help there?”

Erica stepped back and invited him forward with a wave of
her hand. “Be my guest. But he isn’t coming out.”

Dylan placed his items on the porch deck and dropped to his
knees to have a look. “Uhp, there he is. Is that…”

Heat seared across her face. “Yes, they’re granny panties!”

He pushed up on his arms and blinked at her. “I was gonna
say I think he’s a Parson Terrier. They’re a playful breed. Probably thinks
this is a game.”

Her heart pounded once and she dropped her face in her
hands. “Oh God.”

“Hey, I’m not judging your choice of underwear.”

“Kill me,” she mumbled.

After a heavy silence, she dropped her hands to find him
leaning down once more, clearly unaffected by her choice in panties. And with
his good looks, what did he care what she had underneath her dress? Dylan
whistled to the dog a couple of times then stood. His blue eyes glinted with
suppressed amusement. “He is a tricky one. Looks like I’m gonna have to try
something else.”

He started up the steps and Erica’s hands fluttered in
protest. “Oh don’t worry about it. I really don’t want to be a hassle.”

“No hassle. I’ll be right back.” Dylan unlocked the back
door and stepped inside, leaving her alone with the dog responsible for her
humiliation.

A moment later he returned with a piece of well-done steak.
He tore off pieces and made a trail from the porch. “Nothing speaks to a man
like a nice piece of juicy steak.”

Erica folded her arms and tapped her foot while Dylan
waited, crouched beside her. A moment later a white-and-brown head, sans
underwear, appeared. Eagerly he ate up the line of steak and hesitated, eying
the large chunk in Dylan’s hand. She could see the dog weigh his options to
either make a dash or take what the stranger offered him. Hungrily he licked
his chops.

“That’s it,” Dylan murmured. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

As if not to scare the animal, Dylan eased out his free
hand, which the dog sniffed, licked, then ignored. Dylan patted the terrier’s
side while the dog contemplated the last piece of steak. Hunger won out and he
took the offered food. “Good boy.”

Once the dog finished the meat he sniffed around Dylan and
inspected both his hands. “All gone, bud.”

He yipped his disappointment, then shot off back under the
house.

Dylan laughed. “I guess I have a dog now.”

“I suppose so,” Erica said on a smile.

“I can’t guarantee he isn’t going to steal your underwear.”

“I guess that’ll give me an excuse to come over.”

The glimmer left his eyes and Erica bit into her lip,
wanting to take back the words. It’d sounded like such a bad come-on and she
knew awkward disinterest when she saw it. She glanced over at her clothes on
the line. “Well, I bet you have a ton of stuff to do and I better get back
home.”

Dylan dropped a hand on her arm and liquid heat spiraled up
her skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as un-neighborly. I’m not in too
much of a rush to get down to business. I could do with some coffee. You want
some?”

Erica hesitated.

“It’s the least I could do for my dog snatching your
underwear.”

Erica smiled at his attempt at a puppy-dog look. “You only
just claimed him.”

“I’m a responsible dog owner.”

She heaved a sigh. “All right.”

Teeth flashed. “Great.”

She followed him up the stairs and through the back door, by
a narrow laundry and into the kitchen. Similar to her own kitchen, the 1950s
layout was prevalent with its colorful cabinets and open space. Unlike her
white-with-yellow bench tops framed with aluminum, his were aquamarine with a
stainless steel surface. Unpolished wooden floors free of tiles or vinyl led
her to conclude the kitchen was in the process of a makeover.

“Take a seat.”

Erica looked around and sat at the breakfast bench while
Dylan set the kettle on. “Milk, sugar?” he asked.

“Yes to both.”

Dylan filled the cups and dropped two spoonfuls of sugar in
her cup.

“Four,” Erica volunteered.

He glanced over his shoulder. “A sweet tooth, huh?”

“Yep.”

He picked up both cups and handed her one. She curled her
fingers around the mug and took a sip. “I see you’ve already started in the
kitchen. Plans to gut it?”

He scanned the room. “No. I like the open feel. I’ll
probably sand back the cabinets and stain them. But other than that, the wood
around here is in pretty good shape.”

Erica was impressed. “You know your wood.”
Oh crap.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

Dylan took a drink of his coffee, his eyes crinkled at the
corners. “Panties and hard-ons. Sounds like my day is turning out better than
what I expected.”

“Oh God. You must think I’m some type of pervert.”

“Not as much as you might think.”

Erica eyed the way his lips compressed to hold back laughter
and she scowled. “Yeah, laugh it up.”

“You’re a breath of fresh air. It’s been a long time since
I’ve met someone wholesome like you.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron? A wholesome pervert?”

“The best kind there is.”

Erica tipped her cup in silent salute. “I aim to please.”

Dylan shook his head good-naturedly, the subject closed.
Erica shifted in her seat as her finger traced the swirls on the surface. The
comfortable silence remained between them, and she was reluctant to break it,
but her curiosity won out.

“So where do you hail from?”

“Los Angeles.”

“Really? I’ve never been more than two hours from here.
What’s it like over there?”

Dylan glanced away, a muscle leapt in his jaw. “Busy.”

“See many movie stars?”

“Nope.”

A subtle tension moved across his shoulders and the way his
lips tightened at the edges told her he didn’t want to speak about the past.
She veered onto a neutral topic. “You’re really good with dogs. Did you have
one before?”

“Yeah. Always had a dog growing up.”

“I never had pets. My mom was allergic. I suppose she
would’ve let me have one of those hairless types, but I didn’t much care for
them. I always wanted an Alaskan Malamute or something. They look kind of like
a wolf, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.”

“Mine would eat yours for breakfast.”

Dylan scoffed. “He’d have to catch mine first. Besides, you
don’t have one.”

Erica affected a mock scowl. “I could.”

“He’ll walk all over you. You’ll be over here whining
because he won’t let you into the house. A dog needs a strong leader.”

Erica dropped her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I’m
soft?”

“Undoubtedly soft.” There was something predatory in his
tone that Erica chose to ignore.

“I am not. Kids obey me, and they say the average
intelligence of a dog is about nine years old. I can handle nine-year-olds.”

“But can you handle an alpha?”

Erica swallowed hard, noticing for the first time how Dylan
surrounded her. He trailed his fingers along her shoulder to her elbow. Her
breath caught in her throat. “I—I can.”

Heat swirled in his eyes. He tipped forward and smelled her
hair then leaned down so close to her temple his eyelashes swept across her
skin. She shuddered and moisture gathered at her core. “Can you? All right.
Tell me to back off.”

Erica’s eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

Dylan stepped even closer, his breath against her ear. “If
you don’t tell me to back off, I think I might kiss you.”

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

He licked the lobe of her ear. “Because I wanna know if you
taste like peaches.”

She turned into him, his kiss featherlight. He captured her
bottom lip gently within the warm cusp of his mouth. He suckled, then slid his
moist tongue over the soft, plump flesh, adding a small flick at the end of
each stroke, so reminiscent of how a man would make love to a woman’s core that
it sent a quiver deep within her womb.

Erica gasped as he made a slow passage across her jaw. His
fingers massaged the back of her neck and sent pulses of need down her spine.
Her eyelids fluttered as he trailed hot, moist open-mouthed kisses down the
column of her neck toward her collarbone. She tilted her head back in
invitation and felt his lips drag back up to her ear, the blistering erotic
sensation punctuated by the hot exhale of his breath.

“I was right. Peaches.”

Their lips fused together again and his tongue stroked the
crease of her mouth in supplication. He flicked the tip of her tongue with his
own, creating a burst of sensual delight as he teased her.

This man made love with his mouth! Thrusting and
withdrawing, entangling and sliding. Everything he did was pure decadence. He
broke off the kiss once again to trail a line along her jaw and swirl a sensual
circle over her pulse below her ear before using the flat of his tongue to
apply soft pressure. His lips closed over the lobe to suck and tease the
sensitive flesh. Erica’s head tipped back and she clasped blindly at his
shoulders. Her breasts felt heavy, yearning for his touch. Instead his hands
pressed against her back and drew her closer.

Teeth scraped against her tender skin, his hot breath
scorched the sensitive shell of her ear before he sought her mouth again. This
time Erica answered his silent demand. She tasted his desire for her and
reveled in the surreal sensation that he, an unbelievably attractive man,
wanted to kiss her. His tongue retreated into the sensuous cavern of his mouth
and she followed. He pressed his hips forward and she parted her thighs. The
evidence of his arousal rubbed against her and she moaned.

Suddenly he broke off and took several steps back. Erica
stared up at him in confusion. His chest heaved and he raked a hand through his
hair. “
Jesus.
”

“What’s the matter?” Erica asked.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“It’s okay, I wanted it.”

His lips compressed to a white line. Clearly he didn’t want
to hear her capitulation. “I didn’t.”

“Oh!” Stung by his blatant rejection, she pushed off the
seat and hurried from the room, steering away from his hand.

“Erica, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Ignoring him, she pushed open the door and hurried back to
the safety of her own house.

Dylan cursed as Erica hurried down the porch steps and tried
to catch her before she left. She all but ran from his yard and he slowed,
acknowledging he didn’t know how to explain himself. What could he say to her
anyway? He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He hadn’t
wanted
to, but for some
reason she pressed his buttons and all he could think about was what she’d
sound like. Jesus, she’d sound so Goddamn beautiful. Everything he did to her
was like a symphony of arousal.

As though to torture him further, his dick throbbed against
the zipper of his pants, calling him all kinds of an idiot. He stomped back to
the house and slammed the door shut. Perhaps he was a damned fool. Mary-Mae was
more than eager to kick off her panties for him, but he held off only to come
home to see Erica’s ass up in the air and speaking about her panties. The
summer dress she wore had cupped her luscious breasts to perfection and he
longed to feel them in his palms. Sure, Erica was soft, but in a good way.

He pressed his hands against the kitchen bench and exhaled
through his teeth. He couldn’t sleep with every woman who showed the
inclination to do so. Drake Van Wulf did that shit, not Dylan Marsden. A
thought spiked in his mind and sent a blast of anxiety through him. Did he slip
back into his Van Wulf persona with Erica? No, but the fear remained.
Meaningless sex was just that. Meaningless. And he couldn’t do it with a nice
girl like Erica.
But Mary-Mae
, his dick taunted.
You could’ve hit
that hard and she would’ve screamed for more.