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About the author
Cheryl McIntyre is the author of the bestselling Sometimes Never series, as well as the Dirty series, Infinitely, and Dark Calling. She calls Ohio home, though she secretly dreams of living somewhere much warmer—preferably near a beach.
You can follow her author page on Facebook where she lives part time. On Goodreads. On Twitter, though she has still not yet mastered the art of tweeting. On Amazon. On tsū. Or on her website.
Find Cheryl at:
http://cherylmcintyrebooks.com/
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https://www.facebook.com/CherylMcIntyreauthor?ref=hl
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Please turn the page for a sample chapter from part one of my Dirty serial, Getting Dirty.
One
Link
Olivia takes my arm, clenching it to her side for warmth. Nose red and cheeks circles of pink—I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. My beanie hugs her head, keeping the wet snow from soaking her dark hair. She shivers, her teeth clicking together quietly. A puff of foggy air bursts from between her lips as she laughs.
“It’s freezing,” she pants. “Why are we doing this again?”
I stop walking, sliding my cold hands into her coat and around her waist as I spin her to face me. “I thought you wanted pancakes?”
A tremble rocks her body when I slip my fingers under the hem of her shirt. She gasps and smacks my chest. “Damn it, Link,” she hisses. “You’re hands are like ice.”
I grin at her and she caves instantly, her mild irritation dissipating. The girl’s crazy for my smile and I take full advantage of it. “I’ll warm you up,” I murmur. I tug her against me, her body pressing into mine. Thighs to thighs. Hips to hips. Chest to chest. Even with the bulky coat and scarf, she’s still the sexiest woman in the world. I’m so in love with her, and I show her with my mouth, my teeth, my tongue, as I kiss her deep and long.
She moans into my mouth before pulling back, her fingers splayed across my now heated cheeks. “God, I love you,” she says.
I smile, taking her hand and entwining our fingers. “You want to skip pancakes?” I ask hopefully. I want to take her back to the dorms and show her more love. The kind where I get to peel away the layers covering the gorgeous body she’s hiding underneath.
“I need fed, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll eat quickly, I promise.” She holds up her index finger and carefully crosses her heart before pressing it to my lips. I wrap my hand around hers and nibble her fingertip. She squeals, but doesn’t try to pull away, so I open my mouth and suck her whole finger inside, caressing it with my tongue.
“Mm, your mouth is so warm. I want to crawl inside.”
My eyebrow pops up and I slowly slip her slender finger from between my lips. “You’re welcome inside my mouth anytime, Olivia. All you need to do is ask.” Just thinking about it has me forgetting the cold and twitching against my jeans. “Damn baby,” I rasp, “that’s my favorite place for you to be.”
“Food first,” she says, her voice low and breathy now.
I throw my head back and groan. “You’re killing me. You got your phone? I’ll call an order in and we can eat in bed.”
“I didn’t bring it. Use yours.”
I groan again. “Mine’s dead.”
“You need a car charger.”
“I need a warm bed and an even warmer body.” I lift my brows as I add, “Sandwiched between the two.”
She laughs and pulls me forward. “We’d be in a nice warm bed by now if you hadn’t insisted on the movie,” she reminds me.
“Bruce Willis, Liv. You don’t pass up a Bruce Willis movie. Ever. It’s sacrilegious.”
She makes a face at me, crinkling her nose and crossing her eyes. I press my lips together to keep from laughing. God, this girl. This girl is amazing. And she’s mine. And I’m the luckiest son of a bitch to ever walk this planet.
I’ll always be grateful to my asshole brother for making me late my first day of high school. If I hadn’t been running down that exact hall at that exact moment, I never would have met her. And Mr. Haydon, my new principal, if he hadn’t forgotten his lunch, his only daughter wouldn’t have been walking out of his office after dropping it off to him on her way to her own school.
It wasn’t until I slammed into her, shoving her into the lockers, that I even noticed her. But when I did, damn, I was hooked. It didn’t take much to finagle a name and number from her. It was the smile, she’d told me.
She’s always been crazy for the smile.
“Just remember, I get to pick the next one.” She smirks at me, her lips curving wickedly. “And, oh, yes, it will be a romantic comedy. Or,” she adds, “just a plain old chick-flick full of anguish and heartache.”
I shrug indifferently. “As long as there’s nudity.” Really I don’t give a shit what we watch as long as she’s sitting beside me, and she knows it. Hell, I’ve sat through three-hour independent, foreign films for her. I may have fallen asleep once or twice, but I was there.
She scoffs. “No. No nudity. Just good old wholesome angst.”
I pout my lower lip out and blink my eyelashes sadly. She sighs. “Fine, I’ll try to find a chick-flick with some side boob.”
“I love side boob,” I announce, my voice echoing off the surrounding buildings. Olivia hushes me, looking around the empty street. I shake my head at her. It’s one in the morning on a Wednesday and we’re too far from campus. The streets are damn near abandoned, less for the twenty-four hour diner a block up. I can just make out the neon lights from here.
“There’s nobody around,” I say before continuing on with all the reasons I appreciate side boob, which is plentiful.
Four guys come around the corner and Liv shoots me a look as if to say, “I told you so.” I wink at her and nod at the group as they pass by.
It doesn’t register that I’ve been hit until I’m lying flat on my stomach, my chin bouncing against the cement sidewalk. I hear Liv scream before it’s abruptly cut short. The suddenness of her silence has panic rising, seizing my limbs. I slide my palms, pushing myself up. I make it to my knees and then someone’s in front of me. He grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging me around the corner and into the alley.
Fuck no.
I scramble to my feet, planting them on the ground, and yanking out of his grip. I don’t know how much hair I rip from my own head. I don’t even feel it, but I hear it. Like peeling Velcro.
I spin around, searching for Liv. My eyes land on her—held securely around the waist, arms pinned at her sides. A stranger’s hand is cupped over her mouth. And her eyes. God, her eyes. They’re full of horror and tears.
I rush toward them, toward her. That’s all I’m thinking about. I have to get to her. Something—someone—hits me in the back and I stumble, but I catch myself, my hand landing on broken glass. I push myself up once again and lurch forward.
He slams into me again and this time I fall hard on my knees. This one knocks the air out of me and I can’t find my breath. I stare up at Olivia as I try to make my body work. She struggles against the stranger until another man takes her legs. They lift her and I lunge after them. My fingers make contact with the man’s red Cleveland India
ns coat, but find no purchase. They slide down as I fall.
I’m hit again. I hear the tearing of fabric.
Liv screams, muffled behind a hand.
Another hit. I toe myself forward an inch, maybe two.
“Shut the fuck up,” somebody hisses angrily.
Then laughing.
They’re laughing.
I’m struck again. I reach for Liv.
One of the men drops on top of her and I hear the all too familiar sound of unzipping.
If there is a God, please. Please don’t let them do this to her.
I pick up a piece of the broken glass and shove myself up, getting my chest off the ground just to have it shoved back down. A boot presses into my back and I try to yell, but I still can’t breathe.
Liv’s gaze meets mine and I know the exact moment the fucker defiles her. Her blue eyes widen and then she stops crying. She pinches her eyes closed and I try, God I try, to get up. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill them all.
Another strike to my back. This one sounds wet. I barely feel it. My vision blackens around the edges. Spots trail in front of me, looping and dancing.
I nudge myself forward. The man finally gets off of Liv. Her eyes pop open and she extends her arm, reaching out to me. I push harder, force my body to move another inch. My fingers are red as they touch the tips of hers. Cold. Icy cold.
She’s crying again. Her teeth chatter and little whimpering sounds bubble out of her blue lips. Someone—another one of the men—kicks my hand away as he lowers himself on top of my girlfriend. My life. My heart. My whole reason for living.
God, please, no. Please help her. Don’t let this happen. Please, God. I’ll do anything. Anything. Please.
Please.
Please.
I take another hit. Metal warmth fills my mouth and everything goes black.
*You can find the entire five-part serial bundle of Dirty here:
http://amzn.com/B00OOAMP1Y
Hard Page 15