Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)

By: Carly Phillips & Erika Wilde



She started to moan, and he curled his fingers around the back of her neck and pushed her to her knees in front of the toilet just as she started to heave. He wasn’t quick enough. She started to throw up before her head was over the bowl, and a very colorful concoction splashed onto her silk blouse and expensive-looking pants before he could finally get her positioned over the commode. Even then, her hair fell around her face as she puked, and chunks of gross shit caught in the blonde strands.

Clay grimaced and swore beneath his breath as he did his best to pull her hair back while she continued to throw up. As he waited for her to empty her stomach, he thought about all the times he’d stood vigil over the toilet with Mason during his brother’s wild and out-of-control teenage years. Hell, Mason was still wild and rebellious, but at least Clay was no longer responsible for sobering him up, thank God.

As the oldest with two younger brothers, Clay had been forced to step into the role of a father figure to Mason and Levi at the age of sixteen—or risk the three of them being separated by the foster care system. While his mother served her eighteen-month prison term for drug possession and prostitution, it had been Clay who’d made sure his brothers were fed, clothed, and made it to school every day (though Mason had spent most of his high school years ditching class so he could smoke weed or bang some chick, or sitting through detention for being a belligerent smartass to one of his teachers). There had been no father around to help at any point in their lives. Not when his mother had conceived each one of them with some nameless john she’d slept with to support her meth habit.

Another low groan from Samantha brought Clay’s mind back to the present, which was where he preferred to remain. The past was filled with nothing but shitty, painful recollections that, for the most part, he managed to keep buried deep in that place inside him where he locked away his darkest memories.

Done retching, she finally pushed away from the toilet, trying to look composed despite how inelegantly she’d just thrown up and how wasted she still was. He released her sticky hair, grabbed a clean washcloth, dampened it with water from the sink, then gave it to her to wash her face.

She swiped the cloth across her mouth and chin, then looked down at herself, cringing in dismay as she caught sight of her soiled clothes. “That was disgusting,” she murmured in embarrassment as she looked up at him from where she was still sitting on the floor. “And now…and now I’m all messy.”

Truthfully, his cupcake looked like shit and smelled just as bad. “Yeah, you’re a hot mess, all right,” he said, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice.

She perked up ever so slightly, an impish smile curving the corner of her mouth. “No…you’re freakin’ hot,” she said again.

He chuckled when she totally misconstrued the phrase hot mess as a compliment. Clay was undoubtedly jaded when it came to women. He wasn’t amused by them, and he didn’t laugh with them much, either. He didn’t do relationships or romance or dating. Normally, the extent of his interaction with a woman was serving one a drink at the bar or hooking up for a quick fuck. Yet this woman was already getting under his skin and intriguing him more than was wise.

Her nose wrinkled as she finally got a whiff of herself. “I…I need to take a shower,” she announced, and tried to stand.

She wavered on her heels as she tried to push herself upright, and he caught her upper arm before she fell on her face. Even then, she stumbled against his chest, smearing that foul-smelling vomit all over his T-shirt and jeans.

Fucking great, he thought, gritting his teeth.

Even though he agreed that she smelled offensive, there was no way he was letting her get into a slippery tub in her condition. “How about you put one of my shirts on and lie down on the bed and take a nap?” And when she woke up in the morning, then she could deal with getting cleaned up.

She frowned at him. “But I stink.”

“Yes, you do.” There was no denying the truth.

She pushed away from him and once again staggered in those ridiculously high shoes as she attempted to unbutton her blouse. “And my hair… It’s got stuff in it.” She made a sour face. “If I don’t take a shower…the awful smell is going to make me sick again.”

Her brow furrowed in concentration, but her clumsy fingers couldn’t figure out how to slip a button through its hole. But judging by her determined expression, Clay knew there was nothing he could say or do to make her change her mind. Not that he blamed her. The stench was making him nauseous, as well, and he had a strong stomach.

Figuring it was best to just get this done and over with so he could put her into bed and she could pass out for the night, he brushed her hands aside and quickly unfastened her blouse. Pulling the hem from her pants, he pushed the stained and silky material off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She reached up to unhook her sexy, pale pink lace bra that did an incredible, mouth-watering job of displaying her full, creamy breasts like an offering, and he knew if those beauties spilled free, the temptation to touch and taste would sorely test his restraint.

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