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One Dirty Scot (Trouble by Numbers #3)
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He’s dirty, hot, and Scottish.
He wears a suit like a hooker wears lingerie.
Even if his hands were in my panties the night we met . . .
We’re too different—I’m a doctor. Professional. Sensible.
As the twin of my best friend’s man, he’s too close to home.
ODS is a standalone, full-length romance novel, including a smexy-times, HEA, and no cliffhanger or cheating.
As a special limited time bonus for your enjoyment, I’ve also included my best-selling series for the very first time, along with another trip to the Den. Enjoy!
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‘You know what your problem is?’
I raise my eyes from my laptop to where Rory, my twin and mirror image, stands. It’s gone eight o’clock on a Friday evening; I thought everyone had left for the day.
‘Feel free to keep whatever it is to yourself,’ I mutter, looking back at my laptop.
‘Seriously, Kit. You can’t keep blowing off dates with my fiancée.’
He steps over the threshold, almost throwing himself on the oxblood leather sectional on the far side of my desk. But I don’t answer—not immediately. My fingers are poised over the silver keys as my mind snags on his particular phrasing balanced against the lack of accusation in his tone. This is one of those moments when you’re pretty sure you’ve misunderstood what’s been said but aren’t one hundred percent. Ridiculous. I breathe out, even and slow, lowering my fingers to the keyboard as Rory pulls out his phone. It’s almost amusing that he doesn’t realise how close he’s just come to stumbling over the truth.
And even with the realisation, I still can’t help but respond.
‘I wasn’t aware you were interested in sharing the lovely Fin.’
Okay, so I don’t answer so much as I goad him. My truth isn’t that I’m interested in screwing his fiancée. She’s cute, but no. My truth is more that I prefer to manage my sex life by three rules.
I’m only interested in sex, not in a relationship. I’m always upfront about that.
I prefer my sexual partners to be emotionally attached to someone else. It helps with the above.
I’m not averse to said sexual partners bringing their significant other to my bed.
Yeah, I’m a sharer like that.
So, while I am a firm believer is the adage two’s company but three is a really cracking result, crossing swords with my brother is a step too far. Even for me.
I may be into a lot of freaky things, but incest doesn’t do it for me.
‘Fuck you.’ Rory replies to my taunt without even looking up from his phone. ‘You know exactly what I mean. You were supposed to meet us for dinner tonight. And you ‘ken that just fine.’
Threesomes aside, I do ‘ken—or rather, understand—and shrug lightly as my fingertips begin moving lightning quick over the keyboard again. ‘Can’t make it tonight.’ I keep my tone even. ‘I have plans.’ Really dirty plans.
‘Yeah, so your text said, knob head.’
‘I’m doing you a favour,’ I reply, ignoring his sulk and insult. ‘You don’t want me third wheeling it and spoiling your night.’ Not that there’s anything wrong with being a third in certain circumstances.
But again, incest. Society—and Kit—say no.
He rakes one hand through his dark hair with an air of frustration. ‘Do you ever listen, or is your ego so fucking large it takes up all the space between your ears?’
‘That’s rich coming from you,’ I mutter before looking up and offering him the appearance of my full attention. And my neutral face. ‘Look, something just came up at the last minute.’
The statement is partly true. At least, the words come and up both factor into my plans for tonight. Along with filthy, fucking, and fun. Not that I’m telling him but given a choice between dinner with my brother and a night of stellar, no-strings sex . . . What am I saying? No choice there.
If I had any intention of telling him, I’m pretty sure Rory would understand. It wasn’t all that long ago when chasing tail was all that interested him, too.
And while fucking and fun may also be Rory’s watch words, I doubt he could even imagine my levels of filthy. Not that we ever discuss our respective sex lives. At least, not since he walked in on me that one time when we were in our teens. And experimenting. I think it’s safe to say I was probably a trisexual for a while.
As in, I’d try almost anything.
Yeah, so he took one look and pigeonholed my sexuality. We’re close, but as an explanation, it’s easier to just let him believe what he thinks.
Man on his knees + Kit without pants = My brother’s gay.
But I’m done with all that. I’m no longer looking for the next buzz or the next sexual high. I’ve been there, done that—bought the ball gag even. These days, I’m much more at home with my sexuality. That’s not to say I don’t keep my hand in, so to speak. Occasionally a fist. This is where my membership to the Lion’s Den comes in; the place where I have plans tonight.
I prefer to keep my private life just that, and the Den suits my needs. It’s a place where many and varied tastes are catered to by way of exorbitant membership fees. So getting back to tonight, and also returning to the topic of three being more than company and a bloody good time, I have plans with a delightful couple. Lots and lots of dirty plans.