Grit And Grind (Dirty South Book 1) Read online

  “I hear ya. And I agree. I’ll try to turn my feelings off. But I still want to give it a shot.”

  “I’m not saying, don’t give it a shot. I’m just saying, take care of yourself. Be careful. On guard. Focus on your book. How is that book coming along anyway? Am I in it? You’d better not be painting me as a crazy old bag!”

  “But isn’t that what you are?” Klara teased, changing the subject.

  “Don’t go and give me another heart attack now, child!” Ms. May wagged her finger at Klara.

  Ms. May laughed and went along with the book discussion. She knew she had to stop talking about Chris and letting Klara down about the reality of her situation. But, damn it, Klara is going to get hurt—again. She knew Klara was making the same mistakes she had made long ago. Always getting hurt by these men. She couldn’t talk sense into Klara. Just like no one could talk sense into her. Ms. May just kept her distance as best she could and added her snarky but sometimes wise remarks in when she could.

  By the time Klara left the hospital, the sun was already starting to set. She texted Chris to let him know where she was and what had happened. He immediately called her, asking for details. She could hear the worry in his voice but assured him that it would take more than a heart hiccup to kill the devil herself.

  “Do you still want to come by? I understand if you aren’t feeling up for it.”

  Klara thought about her conversation with Ms. May and how she needed to back off. She was getting too serious with Chris. She knew it. He knew it. Everyone knew it.

  “You know, I’m feeling pretty crappy. Rain check?” Klara said, hopeful he would beg her to come to the hotel.

  “Yep! You got it. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, okay? Let me know if you need anything, Klara. I’ll be thinking about you,” Chris said.

  Is that disappointment in his voice? Regret? Maybe I should invite him to my house. Nah, then I would have to clean.

  Klara resigned herself to getting some writing done and putting Chris out of her mind until tomorrow. At this point, she was thinking it was unhealthy, how much he ran around in her brain.

  “Yep. Tomorrow. I’ll be there with bells and whistles.” She didn’t specify what bells and whistles. She could hear funeral bells because she was pretty sure this long-distance thing was going to kill her. Though wedding bells would be nice. She wondered if she would ever hear those.

  Focus on your writing. Take off your rose-colored glasses. Shape up. Ship out.

  Klara was never good at positive affirmations. Who was anyway? She’d once taken a suggestion from one of her self-help books about writing positive and uplifting quotes on Post-it Notes and hanging them around the house, which she did. Except her quotes morphed from something happy to something funny to something inappropriate.

  Don’t shit where you eat hung on her refrigerator. Hold my cosmo hung on her liquor cabinet. I’m a little bit of peace, light, and go fuck yourself hung on her bathroom mirror. Skeet Skeet Skeet Sleep Sleep Sleep hung above her bed.

  She’d left them up for a good part of the year until she had a short-lived fling who dropped by her house one evening, unannounced, saw the Post-its and pile of self-help books, and never called her again. She didn’t care. Who drops by, unannounced, anyway? She wasn’t the problem; he was. She obviously had her life figured out. I mean, come on. All these self-help books and affirmations? That just meant she was well versed in being in touch with her own feelings and worth. She would be more worried about someone who had never read a self-help book.

  Her mind drifted to what kind of self-help books Chris would likely read. How Not to Commit and Be a Playboy for Life? Love Them and Leave Them: The Gentlemen’s Way? Bitches Be Crazy?

  Klara settled in for the night, pushing thoughts of Chris out of her head. Or trying to. Or at least, the bad thoughts. She knew he wasn’t a bad guy. He just had commitment issues, obviously. Like most men. And she did, too. She was picky, and she knew it. She also had goals and aspirations and wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. Not even Chris with his swoon-worthy abs, dreamy imagination, picture-perfect face, and panty-melting, utterly filthy mouth. Nope, she had to keep levelheaded. Even if she had never been levelheaded to begin with.

  Decisions, decisions, she thought, tapping her fingers across her laptop.

  She was determined to finish this novel in the next few weeks. Before things got hard. Before she was a mess. Or even more of a mess than usual. She surprised herself that she had gotten this far in such a short amount of time. Where once she’d sat, scrolling through the internet for new shoes she couldn’t afford, now, she was actually able to write. She had emotions, she had ideas, she had her characters well developed, and she had a muse. He sparked her fire, he sparked her brain, he sparked her body, and he sparked her soul. He was her spark. She’d never had a spark before. Not like this.

  Klara checked her phone and sighed loudly. Determined. Stubborn and determined. That was what she needed to push through. Not him, not a muse. Just herself. Same as before, she only needed Klara.

  She set her alarm on her phone for her usual bedtime, scribbled out Focus, bitch on a Post-it Note, and hung it on her desk.

  nine

  Chris was on a high. Last weekend’s beach rendezvous had refreshed his mind for writing and for passion. He often found himself in a trance, losing his train of thought and drifting back to the way her hair framed his face when she leaned down to kiss him. The sunlight heating up her skin, the breeze giving her chill bumps down her back, her legs, that perfect round ass of hers.

  She was definitely inspiring all the hot and nasty scenes in his book, and he had a feeling she felt the same. Even if she had slightly pulled away this week. He knew she was worried about Ms. May. That was it. Or is it? It was already Wednesday, and she hadn’t been back to the hotel. They met up for their usual coffee and writing dates after class, but the nooky had slowed way down. He didn’t want to push it. He knew she was in another place right now with all she had going on. He could wait. He would be there for her. She was so damn worth it to him.

  He was mesmerized by Klara. Her in all her glorious quirkiness. Bobbing her head to some one-hit wonder from the ’90s while she typed away on her laptop in front of him. Damn, he was lucky. She was beautiful. And she was his. He could feel his cock thicken as she looked up to catch his eye and smile. He needed her. He wanted to show her how much he needed her. His eyes drifted down to her smile as she slowly licked her lips.

  Tease, he mouthed and shook his head.

  He was going to make her melt tonight. Chris had been wanting a real date night with Klara ever since they met. Somehow, things always got out of control before they made it out the door. That usually resulted in most of their time being spent in bed or at the coffee shop. Not really dating. Not much romance.

  Chris had plans. He actually wanted to spend quality time with Klara. Wining and dining her. She was a never-ending supply of fascination for him. Everything about her had sparked his interest. From the way her Southern accent disappeared when she met a stranger to the way it came on strong when she’d had one too many drinks. From the way she mentioned her mom with a quick nose flare to the way she looked far off and empty when she mentioned her dad. He wanted to know everything. However, he knew, if she let herself go to him, he would have to do the same. He wasn’t quite sure how to do that.

  Let myself go? Bare my heart and soul? Chris shivered.

  He didn’t want to come out and tell her he didn’t know how to have a real relationship. How to love or even what love was. It was obvious anyway. At his age and still not committed and never able to keep a steady thing going? Nope. He probably came off as someone to avoid at all costs. He screamed commitment issues; he knew it. How was he supposed to know what love looked like? His parents loved each other; he knew that for certain. But they loved their work. Their passion was for their work. He saw their commitment to their work. They were just roommates. Supportive and positive roomm
ates, but roommates nonetheless.

  He wondered what Klara’s story was. She didn’t talk about her parents much. In fact, he got the gist she avoided the topic. Is she as fucked up as I am? He was so damn ashamed of himself. Klara was good. Too good. She didn’t deserve someone who couldn’t commit, no matter that he wanted to. For her, anything. He wanted to commit to her with everything he had. And he was trying. He had never actually tried before with anyone. He enjoyed making the effort with Klara. He hoped he was doing it right even if he still held her at arm’s length. Or further. Much further.

  Coward, he told himself.

  “Do you mind if we leave a bit early today? I’ve got something to show you back at the hotel,” Chris said, breaking his train of thought.

  “Oh, I bet you do,” Klara said, giving him a wink that she had been practicing. She tried to be as seductive as Chris, but when she practiced her wink in the bathroom mirror, well, let’s just say, it wasn’t pretty. She looked more like Popeye coming down with a bad case of pinkeye than a sexy flirt. She thought instead that maybe she should just flutter her lashes. But then again, that wasn’t working for her either. She was going to have to remind herself to watch YouTube videos on flirting. There was clearly work to be done.

  Chris was on a whole other level with flirting. His filthy mind and his filthy mouth could charm the pants off of anyone. She was slowly learning new tricks, but she was still clueless in the bedroom when she was with him. He was just so damn good.

  So damn good, she thought. Her mouth watering.

  “That, too.” He winked back. Much sexier and much suaver than ole Popeye. “But I picked something up for you. It’s for tonight.”

  Klara’s mind raced. She had no clue what it could be. Should I get him something, too? Does this mean he likes me? Is he making my facial expressions convulse again? Shit!

  “Okay … what is it?”

  “Don’t you worry about that! Just dress up. Tonight is all about you.”

  “Me? Whatever did I do?”

  “Turned me into a complete and utter fool for you—that’s what.”

  Klara blushed deeply. She felt a bit guilty about pulling away these last few days, but it had given her a fresh perspective on their relationship. Her rose-colored glasses weren’t easily cast aside, but she had at least lowered them. If she was going to be disappointed in another man, which seemed to be the case in her life, she was at least going to be levelheaded and prepared this time. She could feel a bit of her heart harden each time she told herself she was going to get hurt. She wished she didn’t have to do that, but que sera sera.

  “What time was it again?”

  “Reservations at six thirty. I have a driver, so you can just meet me about five forty-five, and we’ll go from the hotel.”

  “Wait a minute. You need me to get ready in”—Klara panicked, checking her watch—“two hours?”

  “What? Is it really three already? Holy moly, time flies when I’m with you! I’d better go get ready myself. I’ve got a hot date tonight!”

  “Exactly how hot is this date?” She stopped to lean down and whisper in his ear as she gathered her things to rush out the door.

  “She’s fucking fire,” he responded as he kissed her good-bye.

  He really had no idea how time had gotten away from them. He had too many preparations for tonight. Most of them were already in place, but he needed to pull it off and pull it off perfectly. He had written enough about romance to know what he was doing, but then again, he had no clue what he was doing. His gaze followed her as she hastily exited the coffee shop. Her long hair trailing behind, curling up in the sticky humidity. He wanted to grab that hair in his fist while he took her from behind. His hand gently tugging as she gasped out his name.

  Fuck. He had to think of something disgusting to get his woody to go down, so he could rush out the door, too. Lunch lady at his former high school dancing naked to Bon Jovi? Yep. He didn’t question where his ideas came from anymore. He just embraced it. Part of being a writer, he told himself.

  Chris let himself go limp and made his way back to his room.

  Thank God for housekeeping. That was one thing he didn’t have to worry about. The rest of the evening was up to him. He called concierge and put in a few requests for the night. If he was going to pull this off, he was going to have to set alarms like Klara.

  Damn her brilliant mind!

  The woman might be a little OCD, but she was clever. Chris put an alarm on his phone for a quarter past nine. The time he needed to head back to the hotel.

  Sexy-time alarm. He smiled. Anxious to slip those panties off Klara and bury his face between her thighs.

  He imagined doing just that as he soaped himself up in the shower. Her sweet pink pussy between his lips. He was going to have to rub one out to keep himself from blowing his top too soon tonight. It had been too long. He knew she hadn’t been in the mood lately, but today, Ms. May had gotten released to go home, and Klara had been in a much happier, much hornier place. All morning, in class, she’d traced her fingertips along her collarbone. She’d bitten her bottom lip as she watched him talk. She’d spread her legs a little when she saw him peeking at her while he sat at his desk.

  Just in time, too. He planned on giving her the ride of a lifetime tonight. Chris fantasized about how the night would go as he stroked his cock. Imagining Klara on her knees in the shower, looking up at him, smiling with her mouth full of him.

  Fuck me … Chris thought as he came quickly. His eyes still closed, imagining Klara swallowing every last bit of him. So divine. She’s so damn divine, he thought as he cleaned up and jumped out of the shower to get himself ready.

  He had just finished putting on his suit jacket when his alarm rang out at five forty exactly, giving him time to do a final glance over before she arrived. Suit and tie? Check. Nose hairs trimmed? Check. Balls shaved? Check. Cologne? Check. Concierge working their magic while I’m away? Fingers crossed they will.

  Chris had stopped by their desk to give them the bag of candles and goodies for later.

  The head of concierge, a woman, had kept shaking her head and praising Chris when they went over the plan. “You are going to make whoever it is in your room tonight be yours forever if you’re doing all this!”

  Chris had laughed, blushing. He hoped it wasn’t too much. He didn’t want Klara to run off, thinking he was a loony in love. But was he?

  Limerence, Chris. It’s limerence. You’re leaving in two days. It’s limerence.

  For a best-selling romance author, he sure did have an internal voice of reason.

  The knock at the door came in the exact fashion he’d expected it would.

  Knock, knock-knock-knock, knock. Pause for a bit. Knock, knock.

  Klara never missed an opportunity to be a goofball. It was his most favorite quality about her. A woman who couldn’t take herself too seriously? And looked good while doing it? That was a fantasy in itself. Laughter was his own medicine he liked to dish out. It was nice to get it back in return. She got him. He got her.

  What’s not to like?

  Chris answered the door and took a step back, breathless. He knew she was beautiful, but he’d truly had no idea she would dazzle him like this. Klara stood in front of him, her black dress cinched at the waist, subtle but so damn provocative. Her long hair, curled and spilling down her bare shoulders.

  Breathe, Chris. Breathe, he thought as his brain quit working.

  “You look amazing,” they both said in unison. Both laughing, both still unable to move.

  Klara had a weakness for men in suits. And Chris in a suit? Add that to the top of the list of her fantasies. His was pretty much molded to his body like a second skin. His trim waist, his muscular shoulders, his tight ass. She wanted to grab that tie and pull him in closer. The longer she checked him out, the more ravenous she became for him.

  “Is that … oh my gosh! It is, isn’t it?” Klara’s mouth dropped open as she noticed Chris’s shoes.


  “Blue suede shoes? Why, yes, of course it is.” Chris smiled. His eyes sparkling, still taking in the magnificent woman standing in front of him. “Did you know they still sell them? Downstairs, there’s a shop where Elvis used to buy his clothes from. I had no idea! It was these or the glitter jacket. I thought you might prefer something a little more low-key.”

  “They are perfect! Oh my gosh, Chris! Only you and the king himself could pull off those shoes and look dead sexy.”

  “And one other person,” Chris said, handing her two boxes, expertly wrapped in luxurious gold wrapping. “And wait.” Chris stopped her before she started opening his gift. “I want you to know, you look absolutely gorgeous. And I knew you would. I just saw this and thought of you, and if you don’t want to change, you don’t have to. I totally understand. It was just something that reminded me of you.”

  “Change, huh?” Klara smiled, unwrapping the biggest box first. She was stunned that a man could pick out something as beautiful as the dress that lay in the box before her. White, a creamy white, with a lace bustier trimmed and embroidered in a rose-gold floral-damask pattern. Like a snowflake in the sunshine.

  “Do you like it?” Chris said, anxious and excited as a puppy. “Open the other one!” His voice was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.

  Klara was speechless, too overwhelmed to even laugh at his silliness. She opened the other box. Matching blue suede heels.

  “How did you …”

  “I checked your shoes like the creeper I am. Your shirt and pants size, too. You were sleeping, and I just had this brilliant idea—”

  “You checked my sizes?”

  Uh-oh. Chris didn’t know if he was treading in hot water or not. He knew there were rules. He wasn’t supposed to talk about women’s ages, weight, or his preference for the hair on their vajayjay. Isn't that what they call it? Shit. He guessed the weight thing probably played into the clothes-size thing. He thought he was suave, but he obviously had a lot to learn.