Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) (21 page)

“Inevitably. As for soon . . . Well, I don’t want to marry just any guy. We have to be compatible enough and care about each other enough that I can see our marriage being happy and lasting. And I want a man who agrees we should have our own place, not live with either of our parents.”

“People do that?” He couldn’t imagine being married to a sexy, fun woman like Kim and sharing a home with her parents.

He pulled into the entrance to the underground parking for her building, and she clicked a fob to raise the gate. “Yes, lots,” she said. “It’s about finances but also about family. Extended family is a big thing, which has its pros and its cons. But for me, especially when I’ve lived here and been independent, I want my own apartment.”

“Apartment? Not a house?”

She chuckled. “You’ve never been to Hong Kong. Talk about population density. My Yaletown studio would be a medium-sized place there. My parents own the building we live in there, so my husband and I could get an apartment in it. That’s what a lot of families do, so everyone’s close and can help each other. And,” she added ruefully, “keep an eye on each other.”

“I can’t imagine living like that.” He maneuvered into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

“But you do. Your family just does it on a whole lot of acres rather than in an apartment building.”

“Those acres make a big difference.”

When he went around and opened the door to help her out, she said, “But no, I don’t see you being happy in an apartment, especially a small Hong Kong one. You’d get claustrophobic. People back home are used to it. And they’re smaller.” She hopped down, into his arms.

He closed them around her. “You’re just the right size.”

She wriggled her hips against him. “I like
your
size. I think I do want that dance. Vertically. And there’s a benefit to being at my place.”

“Lots of benefits.” Like the bed being only steps away. Tonight he’d seen Kim in her natural world, the way she’d done with him when she came to the ranch. He was impressed, but it had emphasized their differences. They were overdue for concentrating on the similarities—like how compatible they were in bed.

“Slow dancing’s more fun than club music,” she said.

Horizontal dancing was more fun than both. He was about to lean down and kiss her, in an attempt to persuade her of that, when she spun out of his arms and headed toward the door. She sent a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. “Slow
naked
dancing’s even more fun.”

He was processing that when she said, “Hey cowboy, you coming?”

Oh, yeah!

Twenty-one

T
y isn’t yawning anymore
, Kim thought smugly, ten minutes later. Amy Winehouse’s sexy contralto crooned about love and loss, candles flickered, and the window-wall was open.

She’d taken off her shoes and tights, which left her naked under her short, fluffy skirt, though Ty didn’t know that yet. He’d taken off his shoes and socks and they danced barefoot, movements loose and slow, taking their time as their bodies flirted and teased and they exchanged an occasional kiss.

She fondled the soft, light fabric of his sweater. He’d surprised her tonight, in more than one way. Instead of turning up in his usual cowboy hat and boots, he looked surprisingly cosmopolitan. Still totally masculine, though, with that touch of raw male that had every straight woman at the exhibit eyeing him hungrily. His tan and sun-streaked hair, not to mention his muscular body, were set off perfectly by the sleek black clothes. More than one woman had whispered to her some variation of, “Who
is
your boyfriend?” The guesses had ranged from a soon-to-be-breakout movie star to a European billionaire.

She just smiled mysteriously, buzzed to be the girl with Ty, though the word “boyfriend” gave her a twinge. Yes, they were dating, but only short term. Still, she wasn’t about to tell any other female that in a few weeks he’d be up for grabs. Not that any of the artsy women would be his type, not any more than she was.

Ty had been great company. His comments about the art were often insightful and sometimes humorous. She loved that he’d bought a painting. Maybe, when he smiled at that sunflower on a gloomy winter day, he’d think of her.

When she was back in Hong Kong, she’d think of Ty Ronan, probably more often than she should.

His voice broke into her thoughts. “Didn’t I hear something about naked dancing?”

“I do recall that. Let’s start with you.” She lifted the bottom of his sweater.

He took over, peeling it over his head and tossing it aside. “Your turn.”

Enjoying the sight of his impressive torso, she peeled off her body-hugging burnt sienna top, revealing a sexy black lace bra. She unwound her long, skinny scarf. Rather than toss it aside, she looped it around his neck, hanging on to both ends. “I’ve lassoed you, cowboy.”

“You don’t see me struggling to get away.” He reached behind her to undo her bra.

Leaving the scarf draped around his neck, she slipped out of her bra, then rubbed her breasts against his firm naked body, her nipples tightening and pulses of arousal sliding through her. The fabric of his pants was so thin and fine compared to his usual jeans, straining over the thick jut of his erection, and she wriggled against it to tease both of them.

Then she reached for the waistband. This time, he didn’t take over; he let her undo the button and slide down the zipper. She brushed the backs of her fingers against him, through the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. “You’re wearing underwear.”

“You can take it off.”

“I intend to.” She paused deliberately. “I’m not wearing any.”

His cock jerked against her hand. “What?”

“I’m naked under my skirt.” She was swollen and damp too, from wanting him, which he’d soon find out for himself.

Leaving his underwear on, she slid his pants down his long, strong legs until he stepped out of them, then she brushed her bare leg against his as they swayed in place.

He kissed her again, lips and tongue demanding now.

Her need jacked up a notch and she answered his kiss hungrily, pressing against him. The puffy layers of her skirt were a barrier, but she’d leave it to Ty to take that skirt off.

They’d stopped even pretending to dance.

His hand traced the line of her naked back to her waist in a sensual caress that made her skin tingle. He struggled with the layers of fluffy fabric until he found bare flesh. She was small enough and his hand large enough that he could cup her naked butt in his palm. One of his big fingers followed the crease between her cheeks, tracking it between her legs. Now he knew how hot and wet she was for him.

She moaned at the delicious pressure. Unable to wait any longer, she stripped off his underwear. Her hand clasped his firm shaft, so hot it almost burned her fingers.

This time, they both moaned.

She knelt, then touched her tongue to the head of his cock, licking the drop of arousal, tasting the salty musk of Ty. She swirled her tongue around him, then widened her mouth and took him in, licking and sucking, swallowing him as deep as she could. He was so big, she could barely take half his shaft. Sucking it, she pumped the base with her hand.

“Shit, that’s good, Kim.” He widened his stance, swaying a little. His fingers sifted through the short spikes of her hair, but other than that he kept still, giving her control. Through his heated skin, her lips felt the thick pulse of his blood. She thrummed the vein with her tongue.

His fingers tightened against her scalp, then both hands gripped her head, stopping her. “Whoa now.”

She released his shaft, slackened the pressure of her mouth. When his hands eased their grip, she sat back on her heels and gazed up to his face.

He bent, pulled her to her feet, then lifted her and carried her to her futon bed, where he placed her down.

She reached for the button of her skirt, but he said, “No. Leave it on.”

“Bossy.” It wasn’t really a complaint. Her voice trembled with need and curiosity.

“Tease.” He flipped up her skirt and buried his face between her legs.

How odd, not being able to see him for the fluffy barrier of fabric. But she felt him. Oh, did she feel him. He licked her as if he was trying to lap up all the dew of her arousal, but each swipe of his tongue brought fresh moisture.

With two gentle fingers, he teased her sensitive folds, then opened her and explored. He pumped in and out, circled inside, pressed a sweet spot that made her whimper with almost unbearable pleasure. As pressure built inside her, she squirmed and twisted against his face, seeking those final touches to take her over the top.

Finally, he turned his attention to her clit, teasing it with a tiny lick, a breath-catching pause, then another lick. When she couldn’t take any more, he caught it between his lips and sucked.

She arched and cried out as a sweet, intense climax ripped through her.

Ty held her until the spasms died away and her muscles loosened.

She managed to reach toward her bedside table, because this time she was prepared. “Put this on. I want to feel you inside me.”

He rose from behind the barrier of her skirt. “There you are.”

“Me and a condom.”

“What more could a guy want?” He reached for the little package.

She held it back. “Take my skirt off first.” She didn’t want anything between them.

He fumbled with the fastenings, and she lifted her lower body so he could slide off the multilayered garment.

Then she handed him the condom and watched while he put it on. In the candlelight, his skin, sheened with a gloss of sweat, gleamed. Was this really her, Kim, in bed with a man who had such an incredible body?

When he kneeled between her spread legs, she eagerly lifted her lower body to meet him.

He caught her hips, steadying her, then his cock nudged her, caressed her slick, sensitive folds, and slipped inside.

She sucked in a breath. It was always a tiny shock when Ty entered her, until her body loosened and adjusted to his size. And, once it did, the sensations were pure pleasure. She lifted one leg up his body, hooking her heel over his shoulder, then did the same with the other leg, so she could take him even deeper.

Thrusting into her, he leaned forward slightly, resting more weight against her legs. “Stop me if it hurts,” he panted, “but damn, this feels good.”

She had a feeling that nothing they did together could hurt, at least in no more than a purely erotic border-of-pain-and-pleasure way. Right now, it was all deliciously sensual, bringing every recently satisfied cell to arousal again. “Feels good for me too. Lean down more, come into me deeper.”

He bent forward slowly and cautiously, placing one hand on either side of her shoulders. Synching her movements to his, she rolled up on her back and lifted her whole lower body, putting her hands on her hips for support and spreading her legs in a vee.

“God, you’re flexible. That’s so sexy.”

It was. She felt flexible, strong, and yes, very sexy. “All that yoga,” she said breathlessly, holding her body steady to meet his thrusts. He looked so amazing, the muscles in his chest and shoulders flexing, his slick cock sliding in and out of her body.

“Only problem is, I can’t kiss you.”

“But you can make me come.” She was on the verge as he stroked deep into her core.

Smart man, he’d figured out that her clit was the most sensitive part of her body, and he used that knowledge well. He pressed his thumb gently against it, then tapped it as his strokes grew faster and faster. It was a race to the finish line, and they crossed it together, her cry and his groan mingling in the air.

As the tension in their bodies released, he eased backward, lifting his weight off her legs. “Man, Kim, are you okay?”

She lowered her legs to the bed and stretched, relaxing pressure in her lower back while she basked in the afterglow of awesome sex. “Blissed out. Honest, I’m stronger than I look.”

Ty lay down on his side facing her, and she curled toward him. He touched her cheek gently and brushed damp tendrils of hair off her face. His eyes were tawny gold in the candlelight, and looked as gentle and caring as his touch.

This,
she thought.
I want this.

Why couldn’t she have Ty, long term? Life could be so unfair.

No, she quickly corrected herself. Life was great, for letting her meet this man and have this time together. She’d known all along that they had no future. This was her
rumspringa
, a time for fun, experimenting, and learning. She was learning what she wanted. A nice, smart, handsome, responsible, loyal Hong Kong man who made love to her with passion and gazed at her like she was the most special woman in the world. Who kissed her the way Ty was kissing her now, like he was cherishing her mouth.

“Do you want to stay?” she murmured. “You’re tired. You shouldn’t drive.”

He heaved a sigh. “I’d love to, but you really don’t want me climbing out of bed at four.”

She couldn’t suppress a grimace.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be okay driving. Used to drive all night when I did full-time rodeo.”

It would be lovely to nestle into the curve of his body as she fell asleep, and wake in the morning to find him there. But maybe not at four.

“You’re coming out for the weekend?” he asked.

How could she resist? But still, she teased, “Will I have to get up at four on Sunday?” Last weekend, she hadn’t noticed the time when he woke her to make love, but the sun had definitely been up when they ate blackberry pie for breakfast.

“I’ll make a special exception for you. I may even stay in bed myself, if you give me a good reason to.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure you will. Now I’d better head off.” He clambered to his feet, yawning.

She watched as he collected his clothes and dressed.

“Want me to close the door/window thing?” he asked. “And blow out the candles, so you don’t have to get up?”

“That would be great.” She stretched, luxuriating in the twinges of well-used muscles.

The window-wall creaked down. “See you Saturday, Kim.”

“Night, Ty.”

He puffed out the candles and she was left in darkness. The apartment door closed.

Kim grabbed his pillow and curled onto her side, hugging it. Wishing it was him. Which was dumb. Cowboy Ty was all wrong for her in so many ways—critical ways—yet in so many others he was perfect. Like, as a lover. Would she find another man who was as hot in bed?

She thrust the pillow away. Sure, she would. With him, she’d become a much better lover herself, more confident and willing to try things. He’d awakened her inner dirty girl. There was no reason that, with a future lover, her sex life—or her love life—had to be ho-hum.

* * *

A
s Kim headed out to Ronan Ranch Saturday morning, she found the drive almost relaxing. The last couple of days had been so busy, working on both the business plan and the assignments she needed to finish up for her program at Emily Carr. She hadn’t even had a chance to read
Ride Her, Cowboy
, though she’d answered a text from Marielle, asking whether Ty kept his hat on when they had sex. Kim’s reply?
No, I wear it!

She’d turned down dinner with Henry, and felt bad about that. But she didn’t want to tell him about UmbrellaWings for fear he would scoff and, though they’d broken up months ago, telling him about Ty would be too weird. He might be hurt, and he definitely wouldn’t be supportive like her friends in book club.

Her mom had e-mailed with the date of Peter’s wedding—six months down the road—and said she hoped it wouldn’t be long before Kim and Henry would have an announcement of their own. Kim shook her head. So much would have changed in six months. Her parents would know about her and Henry and, who knows, she might even be engaged to someone else by then. At the moment, that was hard to imagine, but once she was back in Hong Kong, life would be different.
Rumspringa
would be over; it would be time to get serious.

If things went the way she hoped, Kim would have proved to her family that she wasn’t a
flaky
artist, she was a businesslike one. She’d be starting UmbrellaWings, surely she would. The alternative, drudging away at Chang Property Management, was unthinkable.

She hadn’t told her parents that she was working on a business plan. They’d raise a million objections, which might undermine her confidence. Best to present them with a finished proposal that would wow them. She hadn’t told them about Henry. She certainly hadn’t told them about Ty, or that she was releasing her inner dirty girl. So many secrets.

She’d always kept a few secrets from her demanding, judgmental parents, but they’d been tiny ones. Being all the way across the ocean, living independently, had turned her into . . . what? A liar? Or an adult who lived her own life and made her own decisions?