Page 58 of Dirty Rock

I did.

I wanted to take this condom off, throw it away, and slide into her naked.

She held onto my shoulders and dug sharp nails into thick, inked skin. It made me move harder, faster, my arse working overtime as I stared into the eyes of this woman who’d only just come alive in my world.

Or maybe it was that I’d come alive because I’d finally noticed her.

Whatever it was, I took it all. I took her, and I didn’t let her sleep until I’d become her new personal record.

Six orgasms for Julia. One fucked-up mind and heart for me.

Chapter Nineteen

Iwoke to the sounds of the ocean nearby.

At least I thought I was waking. Everything seemed like a dream—the sunlight pouring in. The soft mattress beneath me covered in sheets that smelt like springtime. My body was relaxed. My mind a lazy drone of satisfied humming that ran through every bone, muscle, and pore on my skin. The best part of it all?

I could smell bacon.

It made my nostrils flare, and my eyes flicker open as I took in my surroundings. A window to my right had been opened—the white curtains pulled back to let the sound of waves and cold air float through.

I sat upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My body ached, and it took a minute or two for me to acknowledge the throb of my thighs and the satisfied, heavy feeling in the base of my stomach.

I’d fucked Julia Speed.

Of all the people I never thought I’d screw in my life, she’d have been at the top of the list, but there we were, well acquainted and, what? Lovers? One-night stand participants? Risk takers? Gluttons for punishment? Addicts of the forbidden?

The slow smile came to life on my face, and I scratched the back of my neck as I took in her bedroom. It was so soft. A young woman’s safe space filled with bright whites, pretty pinks and delicate blues scattered among the furnishings and pictures. On the far wall was a large, unframed mirror over a vanity unit. There, sat a photograph propped upright. It featured two versions of Julia on it.

Her twin.

She had long, blonde hair to Julia’s short, dark. The only thing that looked even slightly similar were those seductive eyes. The other woman seemed more vulnerable, and somehow less attractive. She didn’t hold the same spark as Jules did. Behind all that wavy hair, I couldn’t see much life.

My eyes roamed to the door just as Jules walked through it wearing nothing but my grey T-shirt from the night before. Her hair was stuck up, pushed behind both ears, as she walked towards me carrying a plate with two bacon sandwiches on it.

That heart of mine galloped.

“Fuck me,” I said without thought.

“Let a girl rest, Rhett, sheesh.” She beamed as she lowered herself onto the bed, one leg dangling off the edge while she tucked the other under her bum and faced me. I looked down at the plate she’d placed between us before I looked up at her and took her in.

“How?” I whispered.

Jules frowned, resting her weight on one arm as she leaned closer. “How, what?”

“How the hell haven’t I seen you before?” I leaned closer—our lips only an inch apart.

“Too busy with your head up your own arse, maybe?” She smirked.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, Jules,” I whispered, my amusement clear. “Insanely beautiful, actually.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Totally sober.”

“Huh.”

“What’s that mean?”

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