Wicked Dirty (Stark World 2)

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The first time I met her I wanted to slap her.

The second time, I wanted to fuck her.

As for the third time, a gentleman doesn't tell.

So I guess it's a good thing I'm no gentleman ... right?

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I don't believe in relationships, but I do believe in fucking.

Why, you ask? Hell, I could write a book. The Guy's Guide to Financial, Emotional, and Business Success. But honestly, why bother with a book when the thesis boils down to just four words: Don't Date. Just Fuck.

Hear me out.

Relationships take time, and when you're trying to build a business, you need to pour every spare hour into the work. Trust me on this. In the months since my buddies and I launched Blackwell-Lyon Security, we've been busting ass twenty-four/seven. Working assignments, taking meetings, building a rock solid client base.

And our commitment's paying off. I promise you our roster wouldn't be half as full as it is now if I was spending chunks of prime working time answering texts from an insecure girlfriend who was wondering why I wasn't sexting every ten minutes. So skip the dating and watch your business flourish.

Plus, hook-ups don't expect gifts or flowers. Drinks or dinner, maybe, but a guy's gotta eat anyway, right? There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but you can come close to a free fuck.

But it's the emotional upside that's the kicker for me. No walking on eggshells because she's in a bitchy mood. No feeling trapped when she demands to know why poker night was more appealing than watching the latest tearjerker starring some tanned metrosexual sporting a man bun. No wondering if she's banging another guy when she's not answering her texts.

And definitely no falling into a deep, dark pit of gloom when she breaks your engagement two weeks before the wedding because she's not sure she loves you after all.

And no, I'm not bitter. Not anymore.

But I am practical.

The truth is, I like women. The way they laugh. The way they feel. The way they smell.

I get off on making a woman feel good. On making her shatter in my arms and then beg for more.

Like them, yes. But I don't trust them. And I'm not getting fucked over again.

Not like that, anyway.

So there you go. Q.E.D.

I don't do relationships. I do hook-ups. I make it my mission to give every woman who shares my bed the ride of her life.

But it's a one-way street, and I don't go back.

That's just the way I roll. I walked away from relationships a long time ago.

So as I pull up in front of Thyme, the trendy new restaurant in Austin's upscale Tarrytown neighborhood, and hand the valet my keys, all I'm expecting is business as usual. Some causal flirting. A few appetizers. A solid buzz from a little too much liquor. And then a quick jaunt back to my downtown condo for some mid-week action.

What I get instead, is her.

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