The Dirty Version by Hadley Quinn

Author:Hadley Quinn [Quinn, Hadley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

~18~

New life. A determined resolve. Joy for no reason at all.

Ah, the signs of romance in the air. Those were the feelings I’d been dealing with since Friday night. Josh certainly had me hooked, whether he meant to or not, and if there’d been any sort of strategy involved with his tender kisses, he’d nailed it.

I was beginning to think my requests had backfired on me. I’d only wanted to avoid being disrespected, but it didn’t mean banning the sexual Josh entirely. He might have deliberately held back to regard my wishes, but I’d almost hoped for the Josh from three weeks ago.

The dirty version.

Maybe I needed to be a little clearer about all that.

When he came upstairs on Sunday precisely at ten, I was ready to go. Again, I wasn’t sure what we’d be doing, so I packed a small day bag just in case. I was shoving a pair of flip flops into it when I answered the door.

Josh arched an eyebrow. “Planning to ditch me for the beach?” he joked after eyeing the Nikes on my feet and then the bag. He leaned forward and gave me a simple kiss on the lips. I had the urge to grab his shirt and kiss him longer, but he was already arranging space between us. “Good morning. You look beautiful.”

The compliment was sweet and extremely valued, but his eyes were set deep in mine, conveying more. I guess I was still surprised by how much power they had over me. They seemed to rummage through my soul in a way that both thrilled and vexed me.

“Thank you,” I replied, stepping past him when he held the door.

While we made our way to his truck, my eyes subtly took in his movements. I wanted to understand this man in every way, from the small things on up.

He’d called me that morning to suggest I wear sneakers. When I asked what we’d be doing, he only replied, “Something active.” That could mean anything, and as we left Kensington, he wouldn’t even give me a hint.

I was a radio jammer by nature, meaning I’d listen to anything that was on and sing along. Even if I didn’t know the lyrics, I could find some part of a song to get into. And if I couldn’t, well, that didn’t matter either.

Josh had the station set to alternative rock, which didn’t surprise me. I was humming along to Beastie Boys, bobbing my head, trying not to bust into some stupid moves like I would if I’d been by myself.

“You know this song,” he stated knowingly. “You still keep your talents to yourself. So selfish.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment.

I laughed. “Hey, those talents are reserved for my alone time. That way I can sing however I want and—”

“No one can correct you,” he cut in with a chuckle. “Still, Jolie?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “It’s a total buzzkill when you’re singing along, enjoying life, and some dickhole has to correct your lyrics. Rude! Those people are happiness haters.

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