Filthy
Winter Renshaw
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Books By Winter Renshaw
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
ROYAL (Rixton Falls Book 1)
Copyright
Quote
Description
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Bachelor (Rixton Falls Book Two)
Copyright
Note to Readers
Description
1. Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Rixton Falls Bonus Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
COPYRIGHT 2016 WINTER RENSHAW
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
COVER DESIGN: Love N. Books
EDITING: The Passionate Proofreader
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
To the state of Florida. I know. Weird, right? It’s a second home to us, and it was while on vacation here that this story came to me. So my sunny Florida, this one’s for you.
Books By Winter Renshaw
Never Kiss a Stranger (Never Series #1)
Never Is a Promise (Never Series #2)
Never Say Never (Never Series #3)
Arrogant Bastard (Arrogant Series #1)
Arrogant Master (Arrogant Series #2)
Arrogant Playboy (Arrogant Series #3)
Royal (Rixton Falls #1)
Bachelor (Rixton Falls #2)
Filthy (Rixton Falls #3)
Dark Paradise
Vegas Baby
Bitter Rivals – A Novella
Description
Filthy mouth. Dirty mind. Messy past. I’m no saint, and I hear my reputation precedes me, but you can’t believe everything people say.
I’ve made a living playing by the rules only when the clock is ticking, the ball has been snapped, and I’m cleat-deep in AstroTurf. But I screwed up last year. I went too far with the girls and the partying and the benders, and I created a PR sh*t storm for my team in the process. As a result, the team owner sentenced me to live in some gated, Floridian retirement village until I can “calm down.”
Football is my life, and I love my team. They’re the only family I’ve got anymore, so I’ll do what I have to do to stay where I am.
The rules are clear: no girls, less booze, zero publicity stunts. If I lay low and repair my reputation, I won’t get cut. It’s that simple. Everything was going well. For the first time in my life, I was living by someone else’s rules . . .
. . . and then she showed up for the summer.
My next door neighbor’s great niece is visiting, and it doesn’t take long for me to see Delilah Rosewood is the perfect mix of sexy and smart. She makes me want to break all the rules and get all kinds of penalties. She’s all curves and opinions and bee-stung lips, and I’m all trying-to-do-everything-I-can-to-convince-her-to-give-me-the-time-of-day.
But there’s one problem: she hates me with the passion of a thousand Florida suns.
Chapter 1
Delilah
I’ve never been great at first impressions. And in the seconds before the front door opens, I’m well aware this isn’t going to go well for either of us.
But here I am anyway.
Standing at the door of my great aunt’s next door neighbor, dressed in polka-dotted lime-green pajamas, arms folded, lips ready to berate the asshole throwing a party at two in the morning on a Wednesday, I’m ready to do this.
My fist stings as I pound on the heavy wooden door. The Florida humidity is doing a number on the mess of dark hair sticking to my shoulders, and for all I know, remnants of yesterday’s mascara resides beneath my lower lashes, but glancing in the
mirror on the way over here wasn’t exactly a priority.
All I want is some sleep.
The door swings open, and a man the size of a linebacker wearing a neon green button-down drinks me in with an unfocused stare.
“Here for the party?” he asks, expression fading when he realizes I’m standing here looking like a crazy person.
“Are you Zane?” My arms tuck tightly under my chest.
“No,” he says. “Zane’s inside.”
He motions for me to come in, and I hesitate before going for it. I didn’t climb out of bed at two in the morning for nothing.
The guy pauses as we stand across from one another beneath a chandelier in a grand, two-story foyer better suited for executives than party-boy ballers. He hooks his hands on his hips and drags in a long breath.
“You sure you’re not here for the party?” His gaze narrows.
I point to my pajamas. “Do I look like I’m here for the party?”
I mean, honestly.
He smooths a hand down his chest before lifting it in protest, and then he smirks. “All right. If you say so.”
Another guy walks past, his polo a shade of evergreen, contrasting against crisp white shorts.
“What’s with all the green?” I wrinkle my nose. Great Aunt Rue mentioned once that her neighbor played football. “Is this a team color or something?”
The guy covers his mouth, stifling a chuckle. “Wait here. I’ll find Zane.”
About damn time.
A woman wearing a skin-tight bandage dress the color of Santa Claus’ suit saunters past, giving me side eye before lifting her nose and linking onto the arm of a man with huge arms and a matching red button-down.
Red and green? In May?
“Hi.” A man’s voice vibrates against my ear from behind, and I turn to find a devilishly handsome man reeking of beer and wearing a smile a mile wide.
I move back until I run into the wall behind me, but he follows. Placing his hand on the wall over my shoulder, he lifts a brown bottle to his lips and takes a drink, his eyes trained on me.
“Haven’t seen you before. You just get here?” he asks.
“Are you Zane?”
“No.” He shakes his head, his tongue grazing his lower lip as if he fully believes he’s seconds from feasting on me. “I’m Kai Santana.”
He says his full name like it should mean something to me. I’m guessing by his build and the size of his biceps that he plays football with Zane.
Maybe in certain circles, his name opens doors. And drops panties. But right now, he’s just another drunk asshole thinking he’s smooth enough to rival Casanova.
“What’s your name?” He leans in closer, his aftershave burning my lungs.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant right now.”
Kai laughs. “You really came to a party like this, dressed like that, and you’re going to play hard to get? Un-fucking-believable.”
“I need to speak to Zane.”
Kai’s expression fades, and he glances over my shoulder, scanning a roomful of beautiful blondes, exotic brunettes, and fiery redheads. I follow his line of sight and see nothing but a sea of mostly green, a fair amount of red, and a handful of yellow.
Oh, god.
I’m at a stoplight party.
And I’m dressed in head-to-toe green.
“You don’t want Zane.” Kai turns back to me, moving his hand to the side of my face. His fingertips trace my jaw, and my entire body freezes. He’s completely invading my personal space, acting like he owns it, and my therapist-in-training monkey brain can’t conjure up the appropriate response to save my life. “Anything Zane can do, I can do better, angel face. Know that.”
My lips purse, rubbing together as I stare into Kai’s obnoxiously beautiful seafoam green gaze. I didn’t even know eyes could be a color like that. Removing my stare from his, I visually trace the length of his muscled, tatted arm before gripping it gently and guiding it away from my person.
I step out of his space, and judging by the frown that replaces his smug little smile, he takes the hint.
A clock on the other side of the foyer reads two fifteen. I know this house is over-the-top large, but it shouldn’t take this long for Ash to locate Zane. I’d be better off looking for him myself at this point . . . if only I knew what he looked like.
“Can you find Zane for me, please?” I zip my spine and force a positive tone into my voice.
Kai’s face darkens. He’s annoyed. His barreled chest rises and falls as he stares at me, takes another swig of beer, and releases a groan.
“Fucking Zane.” He shakes his head. “Find him your own damn self. I’m not his little bitch.”
I sense some contention there that I’m not in the mood to explore, so I let him walk away toward a throng of beautiful women dressed all in green.
“Excuse me.” A blond Hercules dressed in a t-shirt the color of sunbeams taps me on the shoulder.
Thank God. I’ve never been so happy to see someone in yellow in all my life.
“Hi.” A breathy sigh of relief passes through my lips. “Are you Zane?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I just heard you were looking for him. I saw him in the kitchen a minute ago.”
Hercules has kind eyes, and he keeps a safe distance from me. I feel immediately at ease in his presence already.
Glancing around, I return my stare to his. “I’ve never been here before. Can you point me that way?”
He nods and motions for me to follow him. As soon as we approach a packed crowd blocking the threshold to the backside of the house, he reaches for my hand and pulls me against him.
We make it through to the other side and step into a crowded kitchen. Beneath crumpled bags of chips and half-empty wine bottles, I spot a hint of white marble counters.
“He was here just a second ago.” Hercules drags a meaty hand through his sandy blond waves and exhales. “I’ll be back in a second. I’ll see if I can track him down for you.”
The kitchen is surprisingly vacant, though the sound of pumping music rattles against the windows in the breakfast nook. A string of party lights outside illuminates an expansive covered patio and in the distance, girls in green bikinis are lounging in pool floaties as a guy in yellow board shorts does a cannon ball.
I rise to my toes, attempting to see over the crowd of people blocking the doorway. Knowing my luck, Ash found Zane and led him to the foyer, but I can’t see that far anyway. I decide to stay put. Hercules seems a little more even-keeled than the other two anyway. I trust he’s going to do what he says.
An emerald-clad man and woman stumble into the kitchen, their hands gliding into dangerous territory and their lips fused together with sexual superglue.
It’s just the three of us, and it’s beyond painfully awkward for me, but I can’t leave in case Zane comes.
“Oh, my God, that feels amaaaaazing,” the girl pants, completely oblivious to my presence. “Oh . . . oh, yes . . .”
From the corner of my eye, I see his hand making quick movements between her thighs, and her fingers are wrapped loosely around a red Solo cup. She’s one earth-shattering orgasm from dropping it and spilling it everywhere.
“God damn, you’re tight,” the guy breathes. “I’m packin’ down there, sweetheart. I don’t know if my cock will fit.”
She giggles and reaches for him, pulling him on top of her.
My cheeks warm, my legs threatening to run me right out of here if this goes any further. It feels wrong to be an accidental voyeur.
Without any warning, the guy sweeps his arm across the counter, sending half-filled cups and cans of beer flying, half of which spill down my top.
I pull in a sharp inhalation, cold beer soaking through my pajama top, and stand paralyzed, watching them take things to the next level mere feet away.
Hercules returns just in time to see the aftermath as the guy lifts his moaning girl toy up on the newly cleared counter.
“H
ey, hey, hey.” My new friend storms to the couple. “Not in here. Take it somewhere else.” He returns to me, grabbing a rag from a nearby drawer and dabbing at my shirt. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I take it from him, opting to handle the clean up myself. “They were, um, really into what they were doing. I don’t even think they noticed me here.”
“Assholes. They’re not even associated with the team. Not sure how they got the invite.” He rolls his eyes, blowing a puff of air through tight lips. “How’d you get invited? Or are you here with someone?”
“I’m not here for the party.” I’m beginning to sound like a broken record. “I’m staying next door for the summer with my great aunt. I just came by to ask Zane if he could keep the noise down.”
God, I sound lame. Words like that should never leave the lips of a twenty-four year old, but someone needed to come over here, and it was either Rue or me. And a little old lady has no business wandering into a party like this at two in the morning.
Hercules bites his bottom lip and winces. “Oh. Sorry about that.”
“I flew in a few hours ago,” I say. “I’ve been traveling all day. My head is pounding. I’m sleeping on a ridiculously hard mattress with really flat pillows that overwhelmingly smell like Aunt Rue’s lilac perfume, and all I want is a little bit of sleep, but all I hear are drunk people screaming and music pulsing.”