Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy 1)

She’d be an entertaining novelty to all his regular customers, and with all that wavy blonde hair, those big, guileless blue eyes, and her killer curves, she’d pose a major distraction to every man who entered the bar. As the new girl, she’d be the focus of rude comments and bold, assertive hands that wouldn’t hesitate to test her limits.

The younger crowd at Kincaid’s was rowdy, mouthy, and after a few drinks too many, they were assholes who didn’t give a shit that Clay had a hands-off policy when it came to the women who worked for him. Tara and his other bar waitresses could handle the more aggressive advances. But Samantha? She’d be like fresh, tasty meat to a tank full of hungry sharks. She’d never survive.

She really needed to go home. “Samantha, I don’t think—”

“Clay, please,” she interrupted him before he could say no, her voice as soft and pleading as the look in her eyes. “I just need someone to give me the chance to prove myself.”

And she was asking for that someone to be him.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and along his taut jaw. Her words were an echo from Clay’s own past, hitting him where he was the most emotionally susceptible. Please, Jerry, just give me the chance to show you what a hard worker I am, a teenaged Clay had begged. I swear, you won’t be sorry.

Jerry had given him that chance, had believed in him—the bastard child of a known crack whore—when no one else would. And that one kind gesture had completely changed Clay’s, and his brothers’, lives.

He didn’t believe a job in his bar would alter Samantha’s life in quite the same way, but he understood how difficult it was to ask someone for help when you were at your lowest. And for Samantha, this was rock bottom.

His gut told him he was about to make a monumental mistake in aiding this woman, but considering how resolute she was, he didn’t doubt that if he made her leave, she’d try and find some kind of work elsewhere, and there was no telling who would try and take advantage of her. And where would she live with no money or credit cards that worked? No phone or vehicle? Who would make sure that she stayed safe in this rough area of town?

Fuck. His Goddamn conscience wouldn’t allow him to turn her away and leave her to her own devices. A woman like her, who’d grown up in the lap of luxury, hadn’t spent her youth honing her survival instincts like he and his two younger brothers had. She was too vulnerable, too defenseless, and too trusting. And there were too many people out in the world who wouldn’t think twice about exploiting her naiveté.

He was going to let her live in his apartment and work in the bar for the sole reason of being able to keep an eye on her so she stayed safe. There was no doubt in his mind that Samantha wouldn’t last long in this environment. Maybe a few days before she realized that this kind of life was tough and unglamorous, that working for a living was hard, strenuous, and exhausting, and marrying a wealthy CEO in her own social circle—love or no love—was exactly what she wanted, after all. In this case, she’d quickly discover that the grass was not greener on the other side of the city, and she’d be happy to return to her rich life.

“Okay,” he said evenly as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Consider yourself hired as a bar waitress. You start tonight. And you can stay here until you save enough to get your own place.”

He took in the T-shirt she wore, reminding him that her soiled silk top and pants were still on his washing machine because they’d had a dry clean only tag inside each garment. She needed practical clothes, and jeans and comfortable shoes to work in since she’d be on her feet for hours.

“I’ll call my brother’s best friend, Katrina, who can take you shopping for some clothes and toiletries.”

The gratitude shining in her eyes was unmistakable. “I’ll pay you back. For everything.”

He wasn’t worried about being reimbursed. He had more money than he’d ever spend in his lifetime, thanks to Jerry. His only concern was putting Samantha to work, because the sooner she experienced hard labor, the sooner she’d be on her way back home and his life could get back to normal. Which would also put an end to the fascination she presented.

Figuring they were done, he stood up, grabbed his coffee mug, and walked into the kitchen. He heard her following behind him, her bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. She set her plate and cup in the sink, then turned to face him. She took a deliberate step closer, her tongue nervously dampening her bottom lip, and the attraction and sexual tension he’d managed to keep at bay all morning flared inside of him.

The appreciation in her gaze was now gone, replaced by a feminine curiosity, and something a whole lot more tempting. Daring, even. He stood sti

ll, unsure what she intended, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out. She splayed her hands on his chest, and even through the soft cotton of his shirt, her touch felt warm and far more confident than it should have.

Anticipation and heat saturated his senses, making rational thinking nearly impossible as his body responded to her slow, subtle seduction. A dangerous ache coiled between his legs, and if she shifted any closer, she was going to get acquainted with the stiffening length of his cock.

Her eyes held his as she stood up on her bare tiptoes, and with her lips less than an inch away from his, she whispered, “Thank you, Clay,” right before she brushed her mouth across his and kissed him.

Chapter Four

Clay curled his hands into fists at his sides. He didn’t trust himself to move as Samantha gradually increased the pressure of her mouth against his, her gratitude shifting into something more sensual and intimate. The kiss was warm, soft, and undeniably persistent, and a needy sigh escaped her as her tongue flicked experimentally against his upper lip. Teasing him. Tormenting him. And testing his restraint in a way that was foolish and dangerous for a man like him.

A man who didn’t do soft or slow or sweet when it came to women.

Seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension thrumming through him, she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, bringing her body flush to his. The heat of her firm breasts and tight nipples penetrated through her shirt and his, making him ache for her. The need inside him expanded, gnawing at his self-control. She had no fucking clue how close he was to feeding the hunger that had been twisting in his gut since last night.

He placed his hands on her waist, intending to push her away and end this madness so he could set some boundaries, until the vixen nipped at his lower lip and playfully tugged it between her teeth. Oh, fuck me…

The last bit of his self-discipline snapped, unleashing the beast inside of him. Selfish bastard that he was¸ Clay wasn’t going to refuse sampling the pleasure she was offering. Last night, her flirtatious advances had been under the influence of alcohol. This morning, she was stone-cold sober and knew exactly what she was doing. And since this was his one and only chance to taste her, he wasn’t about to hold back. She was about to experience Clay’s more dominant, aggressive side, and he was certain that would be enough to shock some sense into her and show Samantha that her kind of sophistication was no match for his rough, coarse, sexual appetite.

Lifting his hands, he buried them in her hair until his fingers twisted tight around the strands to hold her to his will, and pulled her head back. She let out a startled gasp as her gaze met his, not with the wariness or panic he’d been anticipating but with a flash of excitement that made his blood sizzle in his veins. She was such a fucking contradiction, so naive and trusting in some respects, yet so daring and fearless when it came to dealing with him. The combination was lust inducing.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was hot, hard, and demanding from the moment his lips touched hers, and his tongue swept deep inside to plunder and devour. She moaned and wrapped her hands around his biceps, as if she needed something to hold on to as he continued to keep her mouth positioned beneath his and feasted on her rich, decadent flavor.

She tasted like the cupcake he’d called her. So delicious he wanted to eat her up. So sweet he couldn’t get enough, no matter how much he immersed himself in the kiss. He burned for her. She trembled for him. His cock pulsed with excruciating need beneath the fly of his jeans, and lust, thick and heavy, fogged his brain.