Thirty Nights with a Dirty Boy: Part 3: A Heroes and Heartbreakers Serial

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Table of Contents

About the Author

Copyright Page

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To my husband and my kids … I thank God for you. You mean the world to me. Thanks to the SMP and H&H teams and to my agent, Elaine.

Also … for all those out there who struggle to find their voice. Ella fought for years to find hers. I hope you enjoy her story.

Chapter 1

There’s something terribly vulnerable about standing naked in front of somebody. Even if it’s a man who’s already seen you naked several times over—even if it’s a man who has made love to you, who has touched you in almost every intimate way imaginable.

I couldn’t think of another time when I’d ever felt this exposed and nervous.

Sean Lachlan’s eyes slipped down to linger on my breasts, my belly, my thighs. I felt the muscles inside me clench when he dragged his gaze back up. “Put your clothes back on, pet. We’re done.”

“We had a deal,” I reminded him.

“I don’t want your sodding money!” he snarled.

“I already told you I was sorry.” I looked down at my bare body, feeling stupid now. Stupid and humiliated and … wrong. So very wrong. I lifted my hands, some half-formed thought of covering myself working through my head. “I hurt you. I know that. I’m sorry for it…”

I broke off as his dry, cynical laugh penetrated the fog of misery. “Ella, sweet lass. You think this is because you
hurt
me?”

I fired a dark look at him. I could handle a lot of things, but somebody laughing at me … Maybe I should thank him, though. That humorless sound broke me out of my odd, frozen state of shock. I bent over and grabbed clothes from the floor. “Fine. Maybe I didn’t. I was wrong again, then. Coming here. But…” My voice hitched and I stopped for a moment, pretending to be caught up in untangling my bra. He was staring at me.

I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as I put my bra on, then my panties. I felt a little less bare now, and I fired a look at him. “I just wanted to tell you. I guess I wasted my breath.”

His lids drooped low. “You said your apology, so if it makes you feel better…” He shrugged.

I noticed that he had crossed his arms over his chest and that the one resting on top was clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles had gone white. White and bloodless. The second my gaze hit his fist, though, he unclenched it.

“The apology wasn’t the only reason I came.” I shoved my arms into my sleeves. “But I guess you have a woman a week telling you she loves you.”

Jealousy ate me, but I didn’t let it affect my voice as I stared him down. “The only difference is this—I
do
love you. It’s not about sex. It’s about
you.
”

“Stop.” He snarled it. His brows furrowed into a heavy line over his eyes, and he shoved a hand through his hair. “Just stop it, all right? You don’t fucking
know
what love is. You had your first shag, and you think that’s what love is. Well, it’s not, so just stop!”

The harshly uttered order made me want to flinch. Instead, I lifted my chin, reaching for something to say back to him. He didn’t want to hear what I had to say? Fine. I’d tried. I’d messed up, and I’d tried to fix it, and none of that was good enough. Nor did he want to hear how I felt. Now I was mad.

My best friend had a saying. If I was honest, I would have to admit that Nora, my foster mother, had likely my only
true
friend, because she was the only one who had known me, the only one I’d ever allowed to know me. She’d had a saying, and she used it and abused it, and under normal circumstances, I doubted I’d even consider saying it. But we’d left normal behind a while ago. I finished buttoning my shirt as I walked over to Sean.

Standing there, I lifted a hand and poked him in the chest.

He caught my wrist, and I tried to tug away. After a few seconds, he let go. “Sean …
bite me.
”

Then I spun around and went back to grab my trousers. Over my shoulder I said, “Maybe I did just have my first
shag
—and my second, third, fourth … how many times have you climbed on top of me? I’m losing count. But as good as the sex is, it’s got nothing to do with why I fell in love with you. Although right now, I’m trying to remember just why I
did.
”

I dragged the zipper up as I searched the floor for my shoes.

There was a movement behind me, but I didn’t bother to look.

“Have fun doubting everybody who tries to let you know they care.” My voice hitched, but I made myself look back at him one more time. “Even though you’re being an ass, there was one other thing I wanted to tell you.”

He gave me a look of patented, bored arrogance.

I didn’t let myself look away. “Thank you.”

That bored, patented arrogance faltered for just a moment.

“Thank … what the fuck?”

“You heard me. Thank you. Maybe I can actually try to have a life now.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that.” I shrugged, trying to pretend this didn’t hurt so much. “I can walk into a room now and not feel so afraid. I’ve been asked out on two dates in the past few weeks … neither time did I feel like running away screaming. I wasn’t interested, but I wasn’t terrified, either. Maybe…” I cleared my throat. “Maybe I can have a life now. So … thank you.”

I would
try,
damn it. If I ever got over him. I would try.

I managed to take two steps.

Sean’s hands came down on my shoulders. “So. First you tell me you love me, and now you want to thank me … because, what? You’re not so afraid when other men ask you out, is that it?” he asked. The brogue in his voice was thick.

It should have warned me. Only a few things ever affected his voice that much. He wasn’t amused. He wasn’t inside me. So he was likely pissed off.

My breathing hitched as he spun me around, hooking his arms over my shoulders and crossing them behind me. I could feel the pressure of his
X’d
wrists. Hooded eyes studied me, and a humorless smile curled his lips. “Why are you thankin’ me, love? Because I shoved up your skirts and fucked you? I’ve heard of sexual healing, love, but I don’t think it’s real. Is my cock really that good?”

My face went hot. “Sean—”

“Maybe I’m being stupid. If you’re up for one more go, the least I can do is help you out. I won’t even charge ya for it.”

The glitter in his eyes made me nervous, and I pushed against his chest, wedging some distance between us. “Sean—” I tried again.

But his mouth slammed down on mine, and whatever words I’d planned to say ended up trapped inside. His tongue tangled with mine, toyed with it. A few seconds later, he lifted his head just enough to whisper, “Kiss me back, Ella. I’ve taught you how. Kiss me back.”

His lips grazed mine, softer this time.

I didn’t respond, though. Not right away.

This didn’t feel right.

He was angry.

Angry … and I wouldn’t see him again after this. He didn’t … well,
want
wasn’t the right word. I could
feel
his want—it was prodding me in the belly.

Sean Lachlan most definitely wanted me.

And I wanted him.

Wanted … craved … He was a drug, and this was the last time I’d ever get a hit.

This time, when he slid his tongue across mine, I responded. He wasn’t close enough, so I stepped in, taking away the distance between us. When I pushed my hands under his shirt, he hesitated. But only for an instant.

In the next, I was braced against the door.

It was cheap, industrial metal, painted white at some point, but it had long since gone some dingy shade. I didn’t care. It could have been a bed of roses or a bed of nails. As long as Sean was touching me, it didn’t matter where we were or what surface we used.

There was no teasing.

Sean’s hands were hard, almost ruthless when he stripped my clothes away. I went to grab at his shirt and shove it up, but he brushed my hands aside—or tried to. He tried to kiss me again, but I turned my face aside and reached for his shirt again, shoving it upward with insistent hands.

He swore and all but tore it away. It went flying, and then he plastered our torsos together. The burning, shocking heat of his skin against mine made me cry out. The sound was swallowed by his mouth.

He pulled back a fraction, his eyes glinting like frosted flames—icy yet somehow still so hot. I groaned as he slowly, deliberately freed the button of my pants. Then, just as slowly, he went to his knees, dragging the garment down and taking my panties with it.

“I’m going to fuck ya right here, Ella,” he said bluntly. “Right here. You’ll scream.”

He came to his feet in a smooth, easy motion, reaching for my hand as he braced one arm over my head. I shivered as he guided my palm to his cock, swollen and engorged behind the denim of his jeans. “I’m going to sink my prick into your hot, wet pussy and we’ll both go mad for a bit.”

Heat exploded through me, and I swallowed a whimper.

He let go of my hand. Mesmerized, I stared at him. I heard the zipper rasp as he dragged it down. He boosted me up, his eyes locked on mine. The head of his cock nudged against me, and I whimpered as he lingered, using his shaft to tease my clit.

Then he began to sink inside me. He held me open, his elbows hooked under my knees, stretching me wide for him. “Look down. See us.”

I gasped as I did so because it exposed us. Both of us. I could see the ruddy length of his cock spearing into me, the dark brown curls of my sex, and the paler hair at the base of his penis. “See how we fit, Ella? I can make you moan…”

He twisted his hips and did just that.

“And you squeeze me so tight, all hot and wet and perfect. We can go a little mad together, right?” He had moved back up against me, his bare chest rubbing against mine. I could feel him through the thin material of my bra, and I hated that separation.

“Give me your mouth,” he demanded.

I did and he stole my breath with a deep, punishing kiss that somehow thrilled and terrified at the same time. “You want more?” he demanded as the orgasm surged closer. “Tell me you want me to fuck you harder. Tell me.”

I did. I would have told him … anything.

“It’s sex, Ella. It’s nothing but sex. What you feel…” He slowed his thrusts down, and with each one, he said another word. “What. You. Feel. Isn’t. Love.”