Dirty Work: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

I sorted his jeans, vests, flannels, and sweatshirts into piles and started a load of wash. At the bottom of one box, I found a little stuffed dog. It was tan with over-sized, sad puppy-dog eyes. We’d gotten it at a local carnival. In a playful mood, I’d led him over to one of the games booths and asked him to win me something. It was a shooting game, and I’d figured that with his years of video-game training, he’d be able to get a prize no problem. But he’d said no, he wanted me to win him a prize. He’d coached me, showing me how to hold the gun and helping me aim, purchasing more tickets so that I could play until I’d won. We’d named him the little guy Spike.

  Now, Spike was dark and dirty. I could see a line where the water had been. I looked at his sad eyes, hugged him to my chest, and started crying.

  * * *

  Thursday night, I texted Jake. I kept it very simple. I said that all of his things were dry. Could he come tomorrow night to pick them up? Or, if he wanted, he could store them in the basement again.

  After a couple of hours, he texted back: Be there after work.

  That was all. But it was enough. He was coming over, so I had a shot. I was determined to make the most of it.

  On Friday evening, I was a nervous wreck. I’d taken off work a few hours early to get ready, but I felt like I needed about five more days to get mentally prepared. I still wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to say to him, but hopefully the right words would come when I needed them to. I’d certainly practiced enough.

  I paced the living room for about a half hour until he arrived. When I saw his truck pull into the driveway behind my car, and I hurried to the garage and opened it.

  He walked up the drive looking so damn handsome. He’d come straight from work, so he had faded blue jeans on and a long-sleeve cotton tee that showed all his muscles.

  “Evening, Fiona,” he said when he spotted me in the garage. His eyes rested briefly on the forest green dress I was wearing. It was new, and it made me feel very feminine. The neckline fell in loose folds just above my breasts, but it was tight over my waist and hips. It ended mid-thigh.

  “Going out later?” he said, one eyebrow raised.

  “No,” I said without elaborating.

  He stared at me for a second longer but didn’t say anything else. Instead, he looked around the garage. All of his clothes were clean and folded into neat stacks on top of a sheet on the workbench. The little stuffed dog from the carnival was clean and perched on top of a sweatshirt. The rest of his belongings had been dried out to the best of my ability and stacked in plastic crates.

  “Thanks for doing all this,” he said. “I expected those clothes to be ruined.” He walked over and ran his hand over a neatly folded sweater. “Guess I’ll start loading up my truck.”

  “Could you come inside first? There’s one more thing in there.”

  He squinted at me. “That old desk, you mean? You can keep it if you’d like. If there’s not too much water damage. If there is, just toss it out.”

  “Please come inside for a minute, Jake.”

  He looked at me for a long moment, then shrugged. We went inside.

  Once inside the doorway, he paused, noticing the smell immediately. Not the damp smell of wet wood and cardboard that I’d spent the week getting rid of, but the far more welcoming smell of his favorite mac ’n’ cheese with crumbled bacon and toasted bread crumbs. He walked into the kitchen and stared at the table set for dinner. I’d gone all out with the good dishes, a crimson table cloth, and even two low candles—candles he’d last seen in my bedroom.

  “What’s all this?”

  “I’d like to talk to you. And I thought you might be more willing to listen if I made your favorite meal.”

  He looked at me, his head tilted to one side. “Another round of bartering, then? Trading food for listening? Seems like our last trade-off didn’t end so well.”

  “That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Will you please have dinner with me?”

  After another long moment, he nodded and went over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. He dried them on his shirt. Same old Jake.

  “I got your favorite kind of wine,” I said, going to the fridge and pulling out a long-neck bottle of a beer he liked. That got a half-smile out of him. I opened it and poured a soda for me. I needed my wits about me tonight.

  I sat down across from him and watched while he took a huge serving of macaroni. He put a large scoop on my plate, too. I ignored it, instead picking at my salad.

  I watched as he took a big bite, and his eyes closed, a look of bliss on his face. I’d seen that expression many times, mostly in the bedroom. After a few more bites, he looked up at me.

  I took a deep breath. “There are two things I want to say to you.”

  "Okay,” he said evenly.

  “The first is about Saturday. About not calling you when I discovered the flooding. It was never about thinking you’d expect to have sex afterward. Our bargain never entered my mind. If it had, there’s no way I would’ve assumed that you’d hold me to it. I would never think anything like that of you.”

  He chewed slowly, looking thoughtful. “Thanks for telling me that,” he said at long last. “So why didn’t you call me?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I decided to take the simplest route. I’d been thinking about you, about the last time we were together, for days. And I knew that it had to end. That it wasn’t right to be with you when we weren’t together.” He looked like he was going to interrupt, so I rushed on. “Don’t get me wrong. It was fun. It was great. But I’ve never wanted a friends with benefits arrangement. Not with you. I’ve always wanted us to have the real thing. To play around without that—it wasn’t enough for me.”

  I picked up my napkin and rubbed my hands with it to try to keep them from shaking.“When I figured out the basement was flooded, it just seemed simplest to call Lisa first and let her take care of calling in the others. It was a big shock to see all that water, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m sorry. I should have called you. I know it was mostly your stuff that got wet.”

  He was silent for a moment, and then said, “You saved more of it than I thought possible.” He scooped up some macaroni on his fork, but then set it down on his plate. “What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?”

  I took a deep breath. “That I never wanted you to leave.”

  “But you told me to.”

  “I know. But I didn’t mean it. We were arguing, and I felt like nothing I was saying was getting through to you. I felt like I was shouting from the rooftops that there were some serious issues we needed to work through, and you flat out refused to acknowledge it. And without acknowledging it, there didn’t seem to be any way to fix things. To make them better.”

  Pausing, I tried to gather my thoughts even though I’d been rehearsing this speech for days. “I guess I was trying to shock you into taking it seriously. So I said to get out, the same way you might call someone a really nasty name during a fight. You do it because you feel like there’s no other way to get the other person’s attention. I didn’t mean for you to leave. I was heart-broken when you did.”

  Jake’s fork remained still. He was watching me. I wondered if I was actually getting through to him. If he laughed this off, I knew I’d never have the strength to try again.

  Finally, he spoke in a low tone. “I loved you, Fiona. I didn’t want for us to be having problems.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. This was it. He was finally talking about this. But before we went any further, I wanted to make sure he truly understood. “I didn’t want you to go, and I am truly sorry that I ever said that.”

  “I didn’t want to leave, either. But I was just so shocked when you said that. I couldn’t believe you didn’t want to try anymore.”

  “But I did want to try. I just felt like I wasn’t getting through to you.”

  “I guess you weren’t. I—I guess I thought that if I pretended everything was okay, it woul
d be. I guess I wasn’t ready to deal with it.”

  He was silent for a long while. I watched as he took a swig of beer, then set it down. I wanted to say something else, but I knew the expression on his face. He was thinking about what he wanted to say. I waited anxiously, refusing to rush him. This was what I’d hoped for. He was thinking about us. He was talking about us.

  “After you kicked me out, I spent a lot of time being pissed at you,” he said. “I guess I can see now how that was just another way to avoid thinking about the problems we’d had living together. But I missed you, and eventually I did see that you had a point. Once I got past being hurt that you didn’t want me anymore, I saw that maybe we did have some things that needed fixing.”

  I felt so relieved that he’d finally understood this that I nearly burst into tears. But I knew I needed to stay strong and finish speaking my mind. “I never stopped wanting you, Jake. I never stopped loving you. For a long time, I thought that was enough.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he seemed lost in contemplation. “Sometimes it felt like we were little kids playing house. Sure, our games were a lot more fun than kids’ games, but that’s what it felt like. And I admit, I was usually in favor of trying to fast forward right past the less fun parts of being a part of a couple.”

  He was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “And I was still trying to do that. With our kinky home-repair payment plan. I thought that if I got you into bed, then we’d be able to pick up where we left off without having to talk about it. Without having to actually fix anything. But when you didn’t call me on Saturday, when I thought you didn’t trust me, I guess it finally dawned on me that the physical part isn’t enough. Not by a long shot.”

  I was fighting not to get my hopes up. The last thing I needed was to have them dashed again. I took a sip of my soda, not truly tasting it, but my dry throat welcomed the moisture. “Do you want to fix things? To try again?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  Still, I squashed my budding hopes down deep inside of me. “But what about Stacie?”

  “What about her? We were never a couple.” When he said that, it was like a weight lifted from my shoulders. So much tension left all at once that I nearly missed what he said next. “We just went out a few times with Mike and Lisa and Alison and Drew. It’s not a lot of fun to be the fifth wheel in a group like that.”

  “I get that. That’s pretty much why I’ve been avoiding them lately. But when they all showed up to help on Saturday, I realized I’d been an idiot.”

  “Yeah, you have been,” Jake said, and for the first time this evening, a hint of a smile crossed his face. “You didn’t recognize the true friends you had in those guys. And you didn’t recognize what you had in me.”

  “And what’s that?” I breathed.

  “A future,” he said. “I know I probably did come off as only looking for a good time. But I was trying to make a life here with you. All the work I did around this place … I was trying to get it ready. For us. For our future life together. For any kids that might come along in that future.”

  I drew in a surprised breath. “Kids?”

  “Yeah, kids. See, sometimes, when two people love each other, they get married and have kids. Or so I’ve heard that’s how it works.”

  Could this actually be Jake, my Jake, talking about marriage? Part of my mind was reeling, but the other part was so happy that I felt I might float out of my chair and up to the ceiling. But the slightly smug grin on his face anchored me and helped me know what to say. “I don’t recall anyone ever mentioning marriage before,” I said, managing to put a hint of teasing in my voice even as I blinked back tears of happiness.

  His grin widened. “Nope, no one has. But it could be that someone’s been thinking about it. Could be that he’s got a few ideas about it. Could be you might find that out someday when you’re least expecting it.” He picked up his beer and leaned across the table and clinked it against my glass. We both took a sip, and then his expression sobered. “We should have been talking about this all along. It was my fault we didn’t. It takes two to tango, Red, and I wasn’t doing my part. From now on, we’re going to be partners in this thing.”

  “And ‘this thing’ is our relationship?” I said.

  “Yep,” he said. “It is.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I said, hope and happiness in my voice.

  Chapter Eight

  AFTER THAT, HE made me wait. He actually wanted to finish the damn mac ’n’ cheese before jumping my bones. Contrary as always, he seemed to get a perverse kick out of seeing me all eager and squirming in my chair.

  He’d always had a dominant streak. Most times it turned me on. Other times, it drove me nuts. Right now it was a little of both. Why on earth was he patiently eating when he should be in the bedroom celebrating our new beginning by screwing my brains out? Thank god I never mentioned I’d made the chocolate chip walnut cookies, or it would have taken even longer.

  But finally, I was able to put the lid on the mac ’n’ cheese pan—what was left of it—and put it away. And before I’d taken two steps away from the fridge, he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bedroom.

  He gave me his most evil grin while I wiggled in his arms.

  “Put me down,” I said, not really meaning it.

  “Now why would I do that when holding you like this makes that dress ride up your thighs?”

  I tried to pull it down, but I didn’t have much room to maneuver.

  “It looks beautiful on you, by the way. Goes so great with your hair. Is it new?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you buy it just for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I rip it off you?”

  “Yes,” I said. I was so happy that I would’ve said ‘yes’ to almost anything right then.

  But when he got to the bedroom, he started off gently. He placed me in the center of the bed and unzipped the dress, easing it over my hips and down my legs. “You’re even more beautiful with it off,” he said.

  I kicked off my shoes and pushed a pillow under my head. Laying there in my black bra and panties, I wanted him more than I wanted anything else in the world. And not just in a sexual way. I wanted him with me. Beside me. And okay, inside me, too. But I wanted him for life. My lover. My partner. And maybe someday soon, my husband and the father of my children.

  He moved to the foot of the bed and just stared at me. I could feel his gaze heating my skin. Finally, he climbed onto the bed, crawling until he was straddling me. He lowered himself on top of me, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him. I didn’t ever want to let go.

  Jake pressed his mouth against mine, and it was heaven. It was like we’d never been apart, but it was even better because this time we were going to make it work. Together. As a team.

  Although right at the moment, one member of the team was reaching for my nightstand again. I moved my head after him, trying not to break the kiss, but he pulled away from me, fumbling in a drawer. What was he after this time? And why did he have to have such a good memory about where all the kinky things were stored?

  One of my questions was answered with a clinking sound that made my heart miss a beat and then speed up. He’d pulled out two leather cuffs, something we’d only played with a few times before. Jake kissed my mouth again, then my neck, and then along my right arm. When he reached my wrist, he fastened the leather cuff around it and attached it to the post of the headboard.

  He kissed his way back to my throat, then up the other arm. I moaned and squirmed with anticipation but still had to ask. “What’s with the cuffs?”

  Jake looked back at me with an evil grin, his eyes flashing. “It’s so that this time, you won’t argue when I make you come with my tongue.”

  I shivered with anticipation. “Why would I argue about that?”

  “Because that’s what you do. Correction. That’s what we do,” he said as he secured my other wrist to the far bedpost. “But in th
e future, we’re going to argue productively. We’re going to hash it out and come up with a plan. Together. Productive arguing, that’s what we’ll do. And right now, I’m going to produce two orgasms, yours and yours. You don’t get to go free until you’ve come twice for me. Got it, Red?”

  “Yes, sir.” I said, flashing back to some of our earlier games involving bondage.

  Jake sat back, lightly straddling my stomach, looking pleased at the sight of me bound below him. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor, making me moan and writhe underneath him. Then he frowned. “I guess I should’ve taken your bra off first,” he said.

  “Guess so,” I said, smirking at the expression on his face.

  “But I’ll think of something,” he said, and he tugged the bra up over my breasts. Somehow, he stretched it above my head and tucked the cups on the pillow beneath me. I shifted around until I could rest my head without being stabbed by an underwire.

  Jake was staring at my breasts as if they were yummier than the dinner we’d just had. He mashed his face in my cleavage, the light stubble on his chin scraping my sensitive skin. His mouth captured first one nipple, then the other, and I closed my eyes and moaned. It felt so damn good.

  He replaced his lips with his fingers and eased his way down past my navel, over my mound, somehow managing to slip my panties off as he did so. He dipped his tongue into my slit, and I knew he could feel how wet I was for him.

  Jake trailed his hands down to my thighs, spreading them farther apart. I’m sure he knew that made me embarrassed and turned on at the same time. He hadn’t forgotten a damn thing about my body, either.

  He latched onto my clit, still holding my thighs apart. Even with my hands bound to the headboard, I couldn’t be still. I writhed around until he was spending as much time pinning me down as he was licking my clit. It felt too good to hold still.

  My breathing sped up, and Jake licked harder, circling my clit, cutting across it, flicking it back and forth. When I was really close, he plunged two fingers inside me, dragging them slowly across my inner walls. I came with a scream, my back arching off the bed, Jake’s tongue still buried in my folds.