Page 48 of Dirty Like Dylan

I stared at her in her little jean cut-offs and peach-colored blouse. Then I looked down at myself, confused.

Weren’t my Black Sabbath shirt with the devil on it and my non-organic beer and my Fuck Bitches tattoo against her flower-child religion or something?

When I looked at her again, she bit her naturally-pink bottom lip… and the imagery flashed in my head: her, getting herself off last night. And a wave of heat crashed through me at the familiar sensations: a woman’s naked body smashed between Dylan’s and mine.

Amber’s body.

“I eat meat,” were the first words that came out of me. The first words I could think of to repel her.

Her brow rippled a bit, but she didn’t say anything.

“I eat every fucking kind of meat you can think of,” I said. “If it had a face, I’ll eat it. I smoke sometimes even though I say I quit years ago. I drink too much when I’m pissed off, and I’m pissed off a lot. I’ve lied to every person I’ve ever been involved with. I’ve cheated on most of them, too. I fuck guys even when I say I won’t anymore.” I told her every shitty thing about myself that I could think of; everything that would make her think I was a piece of shit. “And I don’t always recycle. See that bin?” I pointed at the plastic blue box for recyclables sitting by the back door. “Haven’t filled it in months. I threw a whole case of beer bottles into the trash just the other day.”

She frowned a little, like that was a ridiculous thing to do. “Why?”

I leaned in close to her face and said, “Because I’m an asshole, Amber Malone.”

She said nothing. She just held my gaze, undaunted, with her pretty green eyes. They were a pale, almost mint-green, unlike Dylan’s, which were more of a hazel-gold green.

Then her gaze dropped—to my mouth. And I realized I was licking my bottom lip, like a man who was fucking starving. Which I was.

Why the fuck hadn’t I gotten laid lately, again?

Her eyes widened when she glimpsed my tongue piercing.

I shut my mouth and turned away. “I don’t think Dylan would like it if this photo got out,” I said, not looking her in the eye. “Which means it’s not getting out.”

“Of course not. I can delete it. This is the only copy, Ashley,” she assured me, gently. “I haven’t had a chance to back it up yet.”

Ashley. She fucking called me Ashley. It made my nipples fucking hard when cute chicks called me Ashley.

My dick was getting there, too.

“Not necessary,” I managed to growl. My throat was getting tight and the words came out all rough and a little too quiet. I slid the camera toward her and met her gaze. “Enjoy it,” I told her.

Then I walked out.

Chapter Ten

Amber

My eyes fell to the display on the back of the camera. To the photo of Ashley and Dylan.

To that private, almost tender moment between two people I hardly knew; a moment that now felt even more intimate.

I fuck guys even when I say I won’t anymore.

Oh, God. I totally felt like a voyeur, as Ashley’s words replayed in my head, again and again.

Enjoy it.

Yeah; he definitely thought I was a voyeur.

And what about Dylan? Ashley had been very specific, that Dylan wouldn’t like the photo getting out.

Had I just been fired?

I didn’t even know.