Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy 1)

Clearly, he was avoiding being alone with her, but that didn’t change the sexual pull between them, which was obvious and glaring when she saw him during her shift. Even when they were in the crowded bar, surrounded by dozens of people, she’d catch him watching her with those dark brown eyes—not as her employer but as a hot-blooded man who wanted to ravish her.

The thought made her shiver, especially since she’d already had a sampling of Clay’s seductive kisses, which were so delicious they became habit forming. And just like a junkie hooked on opiates, she craved more of him, her body constantly on edge with desire and the need to experience every last sensation he generated. He was her drug of choice, and withdrawals were starting to settle in and make her restless.

Standing up, she made her way into the kitchen in Clay’s apartment and poured herself a small glass of apple juice. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning, and she was bored. Over the past few days, she’d managed to keep herself busy until her shift started. She’d cleaned up Clay’s place and used some of her tip money to replenish the basics in his refrigerator—milk, bread, butter, some protein and fruits and vegetables so they’d have things to eat. She did his laundry, and one morning she’d strolled the neighborhood to familiarize herself with the area and the nearby businesses.

She’d found a family-owned grocery store, an Italian restaurant, and even a trendy boutique called Dress For Less, where she’d purchased a few cute outfits, a pretty matching lacy bra and panty set, and sandals all for less than fifty bucks. Another afternoon, she’d looked up the name and address of Mason’s tattoo shop on Clay’s laptop, and using MapQuest for directions, she’d walked the city block to Inked and checked out the place. Katrina had been sitting at the receptionist’s desk and greeted her with a friendly, welcoming smile. She’d even taken a break so they could get an iced coffee and chat for a bit about the frustrating men in their lives—Mason and Clay.

After much deliberation, Samantha had decided to send her mother a postcard with a brief note, just so her parents would know that she was okay and her choice to not come home was a deliberate one. She didn’t want their input or interference when it came to her decisions about what she would do with her life and future. She was still trying to figure that out. But the more she thought back on her conversation with Clay about her desire to be a pastry chef, the more the idea appealed to her. He hadn’t laughed at her, which only fueled her determination to try. She just wished she wasn’t so self-conscious about her lack of experience, the one main obstacle that caused her to hesitate in pursuing her dream job.

Today, though, she was out of ideas to keep herself busy. She finished off the chilled apple juice just as she felt a soft stroke of fur brush against her ankle. She glanced down and found Xena looking up at her with her one good eye and meowing softly. Smiling, Samantha picked up the sweet, loving cat and cuddled the feline against her chest, remembering the story Clay had told her about how he’d rescued the kitten when most people wouldn’t have saved her based on her mangy appearance and vet expenses.

“Your owner is a softy, you know that?” Samantha asked as she scratched Xena behind an ear, and grinned when the cat purred in agreement. “He’s also stubborn and hardheaded, gorgeous, and so freakin’ hot he drives me crazy,” she grumbled in exasperation.

As if commiserating, Xena rubbed her head against Samantha’s palm, shamelessly demanding the attention and affection she wanted.

That’s exactly what I need to do, Samantha suddenly realized with clarity—make her desires known and demand what she wanted, without taking no for an answer. There was no question that Clay was equally hot for her. One of them had to push past that steadfast control of his, and she knew it had to be her.

She shivered at the prospect of satisfying the sexual hunger between them, but, she admitted to herself, she hoped to gain more than just sex with Clay. She wanted an intimate glimpse into the man he really was. Based on what Katrina had told her and the few things Clay had shared, she already knew he’d had a rough life, and he quite obviously kept people at a distance because of it.

She ached to discover everything about the man. She’d glimpsed those darker shadows in his eyes when he’d talked about his past and told her about Jerry, the father figure in his life. What had happened to his real dad? As the oldest of three siblings, and clearly the responsible one, she suspected he’d taken on that role for his brothers. And what about his mother? Where was she now? Samantha wanted to know all that and more.

But right now, she’d settle for seducing him. Finally breaking down those physical barriers and experiencing the hot, dirty, sexual encounter he’d threatened her with in an effort to scare her away. Too bad for Clay, the new and emboldened Samantha Jamieson didn’t frighten easily.

She was in this for the long haul, whether Clay liked it…or not.

* * *

Clay was becoming a Tetris champion and not by choice. No, he was playing the online game on his office computer as a way to pass the hours until his employees arrived. Normally, he’d be upstairs, taking a break and relaxing before the bar opened, but he’d deemed the place off-limits while Samantha was up there during the day.

As a result of his self-imposed isolation, he’d never been so caught up on inventory, payroll, and scheduling. His office was cleaner than it had been in months, and all the paperwork that normally piled up on his desk was cleared off and filed, all invoices paid, compliance reports signed and submitted. He had nothing left to do during the day, so Tetris had become his best friend.

He just didn’t trust himself to be alone with Samantha and not do something incredibly stupid, like touch her, or kiss her again, which would undoubtedly lead to stripping her naked and slaking the lust that smoldered just below the surface.

At every opportunity, Samantha tempted him, and he knew if he allowed his control to slip any further, things between them would get down and dirty, and very quickly. Every man had a breaking point when it came to sex, and he was inches away from his. There would be no stopping the inevitable, and once he was deep inside her, he’d dominate her pleasure, dictate her release, and own her body. He physically shook at the thought of possessing this woman, and a low, tormented groan escaped his throat.

But the visual didn’t stop there, as the scene played out in his mind. He’d fucking demand everything she had to give, and steal even more, until she was too wasted to even think or move. Then he’d take her all over again. Harder. Faster. Deeper. That was the illicit fantasy that kept him tossing and turning on the couch all night long, his dick rock hard and throbbing for relief. Just as it was right now, he thought as he rubbed his palm over the growing bulge in his pants.

“Need some help with that?” a husky, feminine voice asked.

His eyes snapped back open. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating Samantha as a residual effect of the fantasy that he’d just entertained, but when she shut the office door and locked it behind her, he knew this woman was no figment of his imagination.

He also knew the moment of reckoning had arrived, and he sat up straighter in his cha

ir, wondering if his dwindling willpower had any chance against the determination shining in her eyes or the purposeful way she strolled toward his desk.

He didn’t know if she’d dressed for seduction, but the outfit she wore did it for him in a major way. A pale yellow lace top, cropped just above her waist, exposed the soft, creamy skin of her stomach, and a matching layered lace skirt that ended mid-thigh showed off her long, sexy legs. Her silky blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and as she closed the distance between them, he grew dizzy, as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room.

She came around the desk and stopped right between his spread thighs. Close enough for him to reach out and stroke his fingers along the bare flesh of her abdomen or down her long, sleek legs. Or, if he leaned forward, he could easily dip and swirl his tongue into her navel. Just the thought had his mouth watering for a taste.

With effort, he kept his hands and mouth to himself and dragged his gaze back up to her face. There was no missing the seductive smile on her pink, glossy lips or the naughty intentions flickering in her gaze. He was so screwed.

“How long do you intend to avoid being alone with me?” she asked, tipping her head to the side as she asked the question.

As long as possible, he wanted to say, except it didn’t escape his notice that he was alone with her now, so it was a moot point. And she knew it, too.

“It’s for your own good,” he said gruffly.

“Why is it that everyone else thinks they know what’s best for me?” A small frown formed between her brows. “When does what I want matter?”