Page 32 of Dirty Dillon

Cress shakes her head. “The house had been in my mom’s family for generations. It will go to my brother eventually.”

“Your brother but not you?”

She shrugs. “Patriarchy.”

I’m starting to feel really shitty about being born a dude. I saw how hard things were for my mom as a single mother, but I don’t think I ever factored in how hard things were for her because she was a woman.

I wish I’d opened my eyes a lot earlier in life.

As we make our way through the richly decorated rooms, my rough hands and worn clothes seem entirely out of place among the luxurious furnishings and priceless art. Is it possible for someone like me to truly fit into Cressida’s world? Can I ever really be enough for her?

I stop in the doorway of some kind of sitting room with a large portrait of her father hanging over the fireplace—the man who would willingly trade his own daughter’s body to Blake for his twisted gain. It’s a chilling reminder of why we’re doing this.

I won’t let them hurt her. Not while I’m still breathing. We will figure out what Hamilton is hiding and then we will expose him and his pervert lawyer. Once she’s safe from them, I’ll help her take down the dean if she wants to.

“Up here,” Cressida calls, pulling me from my thoughts as she leads me up the grand staircase to her bedroom.

I shake off the dark thoughts as I roll up my sleeves. First we pack. Then we worry about the rest.

As I watch Cressida rummage through her closet, she pulls out a pair of shoes that look like they cost more than my mortgage. How the fuck does she even walk in them?

“I’m taking these,” she declares, clutching them to her chest.

“Really?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “You’re moving in with a mechanic, not going to a ball.”

“You never planning on taking me out on a date?” she retorts, a stubborn glint in her eyes.

“Fine,” I concede, not wanting to start an argument.

I watch as she continues to gather an assortment of impractical items. “Are you planning on wearing that while working on cars or something?” I tease, attempting to lighten the mood.

“No,” she replies, holding up a little lacy number that I’m hoping goes on under her clothes and is not an actual outfit. “I was thinking that I would wearthiswhen I work on cars.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” I reply, my voice low and suggestive. “But it doesn’t look practical.”

“Is that so?” she purrs, her lips curling into a sultry smile. “You don’t think I can handle a tool while wearing this?”

I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me. “The only tool you’ll be handling is mine,” I say, my voice dropping even lower. “And I’d much rather see you out of that than in it.”

“I promise it will look fantastic on your bedroom floor.”

“It’s your bedroom floor now too, princess.”

Cressida smirks up at me, her eyes filled with a playful challenge. She leans in, her lips ghosting over mine. “Then you won’t mind if I add a couple more pretty shoes,” she whispers against my mouth before pulling back.

When it comes to the makeup kit, though, I’m done. The case is filled with enough products to start a small cosmetics store. “You don’t need all this shit.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” I reply firmly. “You don’t need all of this to look beautiful.”

Cressida scoffs, but I can see the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You don’t know anything about makeup, Dillon. I know you think women just wake up looking like they belong on a magazine cover, but it takes work to look like you’re not wearing makeup.”

That doesn’t even make sense. “I woke up next to you this morning. Trust me, you don’t need any of this.” I hold up a complicated electrical implement. “What does this even do?”

“It’s for my hair. You’ve never lived with a woman before, have you?”

I shake my head. “Wait, have you lived with a man before?”

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