Dirty Scoundrel

“No, sir. She signed.” The lawyer takes it as if I’m handing him a snake.

I grunt. “Good. Send me your bill.” I get back into the car and close the door, and then I’m alone with Natalie.

And damn, she’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever fucking seen.

Her arms are crossed under her breasts and her tits are heaving from sheer outrage. Fuckin’ magnificent. Her cheeks are flushed and she looks pretty and fresh and innocent, and I realize I’m gonna get into those panties, after all, and my cock grows achingly hard.

She signed.

She’s mine.

But she gives a toss of her dark hair and glares at me. “What the fuck, Clay?”

“Nice to see you, Natalie,” I drawl. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine this morning.”

“Stuff the sweet Southern-boy act,” she snaps at me. “Why won’t you agree to the changes I wanted in the contract?”

I’m fascinated by the pink sheen of her lips. They look all plump and kissable and I’m havin’ a hard time concentratin’ on what she’s sayin’. It sinks in a moment later, and then I laugh. “What, you don’t like the fact that I’m payin’ for all of you?”

Her cheeks turn bright red and she shifts in her seat, clearly embarrassed. “That wasn’t on the table!”

“You’re right, it wasn’t . . . until you mentioned it. Now it is. So thanks for that.”

Nat’s jaw clenches. She is adorably cute and I realize in this moment how much I’ve fucking missed her the last seven years. It hits me like a ton of bricks and I’m glad I’m seated, because I feel staggered. Even her anger makes me hungry for her. I don’t mind her spittin’ at me, as long as I’m in her presence.

You stupid ass, I chide myself, and rub the S on my knuckles. She used you. Now you get to use her.

“I’m glad we came to an agreement,” I drawl.

“This isn’t an agreement as much as it’s a hostage situation! You have me over a barrel!”

“Not yet, but that can be arranged.” I force myself to be nonchalant, stretching my legs out in the limo. I’m seated across from her, and even though the back cab area of the car is probably bigger ’n my first bedroom, it feels too small. I’m antsy, and it’s all because I’m in her presence. “Anything else you want to offer up?”

She huffs and her pretty blue eyes are flashing murder at me. “I’m almost afraid to speak.”

“But you signed, didn’t you?” I point out, hardening my resolve against her. Doesn’t matter that she’s cute. Doesn’t matter that she smells fantastic and my cock’s aching at her nearness. I’m the one in charge and I’m not giving my power up. Not when I’m finally getting what I want.

Natalie spreads her hands. “How can I not sign? Like I said, you have me over a barrel. You have all these people showing up to fix things that I’ve been trying to ignore for forever, and you got my father not one but three nurses so he can have round-the-clock staff and . . .” She swallows hard and then pulls out a tissue and starts dabbing at her eyes. “Shit.”

I stare at her, horrified. “You cryin’?” I don’t want her cryin’. I want her spittin’ nails at me, all furious and angry and magnificent so I can be a ruthless bastard to her.

“No,” she says quickly and tilts her head back, blinking rapidly. “I’m fine.”

She ain’t actin’ fine. It’s clear she’s about to cry. It’s also clear she don’t wanna cry in front of me. Hell, I don’t want her cryin’, period. Last thing I want is to have her all weepy while I’m trying to get into her panties. I need to get her all good and angry again. “Good, because it’s about time I get to start enjoyin’ my side of the bargain.”

Nat freezes in place and looks over at me with those shiny eyes. Her posture isn’t sad anymore, though—she’s practically bristling. “Oh?”

I pat the seat next to me. “Come gimme a kiss.”

Her mouth opens and her lips part. She makes a small, frustrated noise. “You’re serious?”

If it stops her from cryin’ and gets her back to angry? Fuck yeah I’m serious. “Didn’t buy you to sit there and look pretty, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby. And you’ve turned into a major asshole, Clay Price.”

I shrug. “Guess you made me one.”

Her back goes ramrod stiff and she gets to her feet, ducking her head in the limo’s low-roofed cabin, and practically storms the few feet over to my side before dropping heavily next to me. There’s a mutinous scowl on her pretty face but she ain’t cryin’.

Good. I like that.

Chapter Eight

Natalie

Good lord, Clay is such a jerk. I can’t believe I’m having to go along with this.

It’s my own fault, though. I signed that contract. I knew what I was getting into. Liking it—or liking him—isn’t part of the equation. All I can do is grit my teeth, tolerate, and hope he gets tired of me fast.

Until then, he’s determined to make me miserable. But I’ll put up with it, because it’s going to get me somewhere. It’s getting Dad three—three!—nurses and helping me keep the business afloat. It’s getting rid of all those horrific debts that are keeping me up at night.

It’s giving me closure on the boy I’ve missed so, so much for the last seven years.

I sure don’t miss his ass now. In fact, I wish he’d stayed gone. I would rather mourn the guy I lost than see the jerk he’s turned into.

Don’t sweat this, I tell myself. It’ll be just like kissing a stranger. He didn’t have that beard when you were in high school, and the Clay from back then is nothing like the Clay now. This isn’t that guy. Your memories are safe.

Saying that to myself makes me feel strangely better. I can’t lose the sweet, handsome boy I fell in love with back in high school. Not to the jerk that’s seated before me. I’ll always have those memories. They’re safe. So I study him. “A kiss, huh?”

He nods, beard brushing against his collar as he does. “That’s what I said.”

For some reason, I almost imagine that he’s as nervous as I am. That has to be my imagination, though. All right, since he’s not looking as if he’s going to help me—and he’s bought me, so I guess he doesn’t have to—I lean forward, closing the distance between us.

When he still doesn’t lean in to meet me, I bite back a scowl. He’s going to make me climb all over him just to get this kiss in, is he? “You really are a prick,” I mutter as I scoot closer.

Clay just chuckles, as if my complaints amuse him. Maybe they do. It only makes me more determined to get this over with.

So I grab a handful of his shaggy beard and pull his face down toward mine.

He looks surprised at my action, but his eyes get hooded as I move closer, and then my lips are on his.

I’m . . . not expecting his breath to be as sweet as it is. Or for his lips to feel as soft as they do. His beard tickles my face, and it’s like kissing a stranger. I brush my mouth over his in a light caress, exploring.

But then his hand slips to the back of my neck and he pulls me closer to him, and his lips part and then his tongue rubs up against mine.

And it’s not kissing a stranger. It’s kissing Clay. The Clay I loved so much back in high school. The Clay I spent hours upon hours just breathlessly making out with. The Clay I missed so desperately. When his tongue strokes against mine and he takes control of the kiss?

It’s like being seventeen all over again.

A soft little mew escapes my throat, and he groans against my mouth. Deeper, his tongue strokes against mine, licking me as if I’m his favorite flavor of ice cream, and I swear I can feel that all the way down to my toes. Over and over, our tongues meet and clash, stroke and taste, and our lips meld until the world disappears around me. There’s only Clay in my senses, Clay holding me close to him, the scent of him in my nose and his hard chest pressing against mine. His hand is tangled in my hair and mine is against his chest, and I’m inches away from crawling into his lap. Just when I think I should pull away, his tongue brushes against mine once more and then I’m lost yet again.

It seems like eternity before I pull away from him to catch my breath, and even as I do, he leans in and nips at my lower lip. I feel dazed at that one simple kiss, and I’m pretty sure I’m wet between my thighs from it.

I’m shocked.

And for a moment, Clay looks just as shocked as I am. With our noses inches apart, we’re both breathing heavy, and his gaze is locked to my kiss-swollen lips. “That’s a good start,” he murmurs.

Just like that, the spell is broken. I push against his chest, sliding away from him, and wipe my mouth to show him just how little I care about his kiss. It’s a lie, of course—I’m shaken to my core. But I don’t want him to know that. “Satisfied?”

“Nope,” he drawls, and I feel a tingle low in my belly. “But it’ll do for now.”

Clay

I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Damn.

Doesn’t matter that it’s been a half hour since it happened. Doesn’t matter that since then, we’ve put Nat’s small suitcase in the trunk of the limo and driven off. That we’ve gone down the highway and we’re heading away from her small town and toward San Antonio proper. Doesn’t matter that it’s completely silent in the limo and Nat’s just staring ahead, hands folded in her lap.

I can’t stop thinking about That. Damn. Kiss.

Took me back to when I was eighteen again, and my dick got hard just thinkin’ about Nat. Didn’t matter the time of day, or if I was at church or at my part-time job at the chicken shack. Nat was instant hard-on fuel. I felt like the luckiest bastard alive havin’ her as my girl.

Til the day she fucked me over, of course.