Dirty Bastard (Roughneck Billionaires 3)

She reaches out and pinches my cheek. “God, you’re adorable. I’m going to ignore that tampon comment. You do remember you got me pregnant, right?”

And then I can feel heat on my cheeks, because that was kinda stupid of me. I step out of the studio and into the parking lot, then turn and wait for her. “Right. That was dumb. To be fair, you’re the first woman I’ve ever gotten pregnant.”

“For some reason, I’m ridiculously happy to hear that,” she says drily, and closes the door behind me.

Lexi

This might be stupid, but I don’t care. I need to get away for a weekend. I’m sure Keith is going to lose his shit, but there’s a window and I’m taking it.

Here I was all tense that Knox showed up again, imagining how Keith would freak the fuck out and punch more holes in my wall . . . and then that fire truck raced past. I know he’s on it, since he’s on duty every weekday. That means I’m fucking free for a short period of time thanks to someone else’s miserable luck. That means he won’t know that Knox showed up, looking scrumptious and waving a weekend at a haunted hotel under my nose.

The entire fourteenth floor. Good god, the man knows how to woo a woman. I’m practically ready to shuck my panties just thinking about it. The fire truck was a sign. If Keith’s not going to know Knox was here, it’s the perfect time for me to get away. Keith’s been oppressive lately, so this is the chance I need to clear my head and think.

And, okay, there’s a haunted hotel thrown in.

And, okay . . . there’s a really hot fucking guy that eats pussy like there’s no tomorrow and he’s giving me steamy looks and I’m super knocked up and super full of randy hormones that want me to get laid. All of that’s a factor.

But really, it’s harder and harder for me to resist Knox, because I don’t want to. I love his determination, and the way he’s really trying to go out of his way to figure out what I need. I love that he wants to focus on me instead of just the baby right now. It makes me feel like I’m more to him than just a walking womb, and I appreciate that.

I don’t know what I’ll do with that thought, but it’s nice anyhow.

I didn’t bring any clothes, though. He suggested going back to my place, and I did briefly consider it, but someone in my building is bound to be spying for Keith. Everyone loves him and just thinks I’m weird. No one in this shitty little town is on my side. Nat was, but she moved away. I’ve felt very, very alone lately, and with Keith being oppressive, it’s just gotten worse and worse. The only times I don’t feel alone? When Knox is around.

I glance over at him in the cab of the truck. He’s all cocky confidence, sprawled in the front seat, his window down and one arm resting on the door. He’s got a toothpick between his teeth and gives it a little turn with his tongue every now and then. Not that I’m paying attention. But he looks older than his twenty-three years. And in personality? He’s as cynical as I am.

Of course, I can’t say those sorts of things to him. He’ll wonder why I’m studying him so very intently, and then it’ll get awkward. Well, even more awkward because just his nearness is making me squirmy with arousal. Thanks, pregnancy hormones. Like I needed soaked panties for a ghost-hunting trip.

I feel that heated flush move over my body when he immediately looks over at me. He’s paying attention to me despite keeping his focus on the road, so attuned that he notices the moment I glance over. Why is that so sexy? God, I am such a mess around him. “How come it’s so quiet? You don’t listen to the radio when you drive?”

Knox chuckles, his attention moving back to the road. He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “Music’s nice and all, but I’ve noticed that when you have it blaring, you miss a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“People’s cues, mostly. When it’s silent, I can pay a lot more attention to the person next to me and how they react during a conversation. People are way more interesting than songs, least to me.”

Huh. That makes sense in a strange sort of way. I’ve noticed Knox definitely studies people and files information away as if he’s writing a thesis on what makes them tick. He’s the most alert, watchful person I’ve ever met. I wonder what secrets of mine he’s picked up.

I’m not sure I want to know. “You feel the same way about phones? I’ve noticed you don’t text me. You just show up.” I make a flourish, as if gesturing to a door. “You just waltz right in without checking to see what my schedule looks like, or if I’m even there that day. A text or a phone call saves you a lot of trouble, you know.”

Knox looks over at me again, impressed. “You’ve been studying me, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘studying.’”

“I would.” He winks at me. “But that’s all right, I won’t give ya shit about it. To be honest, I hate texting more than I hate phone calls. I do ’em sometimes because my brothers love to text all damn day long. But I’d rather talk to someone in person, see their face, read their body language. It tells me a hell of a lot more than those emotee things.”

Emotee? The fuck? “You mean emoji?”

“Whatever.”

“Oh my god, that’s so cute. A millennial that doesn’t know what an emoji is. Are you sure you’re not an eighty-year-old with a really great skin regimen instead of a twenty-three-year-old?” I reach over to pinch his bearded cheek, and he half swats my hand away. Just the brush of my fingertips against his skin fills me with an insane amount of lust. Man, I have got it bad for this guy. What is wrong with me? I’m used to being on my own, being independent. I haven’t wanted or needed anyone in forever, but the moment Knox is around, my body seems to be making up for lost time.

It’s a little ridiculous and a lot unfair.

“I think what I’m hearin’,” Knox says slowly, unaware (or maybe too aware) of my sexual frustration, “is that you want me to text you more often.”

“I’m not saying shred my phone bill with texts or anything like that. I’m just saying that if you’re going to drop by, maybe you text me first so I know to expect you.” And so I can make sure that Keith is nowhere around to freak out.

“I aim to please.”

I can’t resist the response that immediately comes to mind. I pat my stomach. “Seems to me like your aim is pretty good so far.”

His laughter fills the truck and makes me feel far too good.

* * *

* * *

The Old Pearson is everything a paranormal enthusiast could ever hope to want in a hotel. It’s a massive old building downtown, made of red brick and with rounded white brickwork over some of the windows that reminds me of cake frosting. It looks cheery and old-fashioned from the outside despite the fact that it’s growing dark, which is fascinating. It’s almost like it’s unaware that it’s such a hotbed for paranormal activity. There’s a massive archway entrance to the hotel that reminds me of a church more than anything else, and it goes straight up like a skyscraper for sixteen floors. There’s a neon hotel sign up front, and it’s a fascinating mix of old and new. I give an appreciative shiver at the sight of it. “I can’t believe you booked rooms here.”

“Wasn’t easy,” he murmurs, moving to my side as we gaze up at the building from the parking lot. “Apparently the fourteenth floor is under renovation and the owner didn’t want to rent it out until I threw some serious money his way.”

“Should I ask how much money is serious money?”

“Nope, you shouldn’t. Doesn’t affect things one way or another, and I’m rich.” He crooks his arm, indicating I should slip my hand in the space at his elbow. “Shall we?”

“Oh yes, we definitely shall.”

As we check in, I can’t help but notice how much the front desk girl fawns over Knox. He’s not dressed like a bajillionaire in the slightest. His jeans are worn as hell and not in the designer way. The T-shirt he’s wearing is plain, and he’s still got that scruffy beard and hair that’s a little too long under his trucker cap. He looks like he just came into town on a big rig. I mean, he’s ridiculously handsome, of course, but she’s acting like he’s a fucking celebrity with the way she’s fawning over him and giggling at everything he says, which suggests to me that she’s done a little Google-fu of her own. She’s closer to his age than I am, and perky and cute, with blonde highlights that sweep into a light pink, and a bubbly personality to match the cupcake-cute hair.

I hate her on sight.

Knox smiles at her flirting but doesn’t encourage her, which is good. That means I don’t have to murder him. She hands him a business card and flutters her lashes at him, and I almost reach across the desk to slap her around. I don’t know why I care so much, but when he gets the envelope with the electronic keys and then turns to me, putting a hand at the small of my back, I practically melt into a puddle. Take that, flirt. He’s with me.

So much for my not wanting him. All it takes is one barely-out-of-high-school twit and I’m suddenly snarling and ready to claw someone’s eyes out. I wonder if I can blame that on pregnancy hormones, too?

“Ready to do this?” he asks, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

“Born ready,” I reassure him. “From what I’ve read online, all the good shit happens after midnight, but we can do a little reconnaissance first.”

“Lead the way.”

I do, hating myself a little for wishing that his hand would slide a little lower and caress my butt. Not too much, just enough for Pinky McGiggles back at the front desk to realize he’s not interested in her.

The elevator is empty as we head up, and Knox is just as quiet as I am. After a moment, I glance over at him. “That card had her phone number on it, didn’t it?”

Knox grins at me, his expression knowing, and I get a little weak in the knees at just how gorgeous he is. “Yup. You want it?”