Bound to be Dirty
PRAISE FOR
Dare to Be Dirty
“I highly recommend this wonderful contemporary romance that steams the pages. Be prepared to savor Dare to Be Dirty and enjoy the sizzling romance between the sexy cowboy and the modern woman who wins his love.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A refreshingly fun and entertaining read. In fact, the series, Dirty Girls Book Club, has proven to be wickedly delightful so far.”
—Romance Junkies
“A wonderful story of a hero’s and a heroine’s journey, which shows the cultural differences of Asian versus Canadian, which figure so prominently in Vancouver. Great story, great writing.”
—Manic Readers
“Emotionally realistic plus overflowing with steamy sex. Dare to Be Dirty is a romance about intense desire, and how this temptation affects your whole being.”
—Sensual Reads
“The story line is strong, unique, and stresses the importance of compromise in a relationship. Though we all want and crave a happy ending, in books and in real life, readers will appreciate the author making this novel unpredictable.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Dirty Girls Book Club
“Filled with emotion and hot sensuality. . . . Pick up The Dirty Girls Book Club for a sizzling read that will leave you with a smile on your face.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A fun, sexy, intriguing read that is easy to get hooked on. It’s written a lot like a hockey play-off game, fast-paced, exciting, and leaves you breathless at the end.”
—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews
“An original premise that is cleverly carried out amongst its likable characters. There are an abundance of heartfelt emotions and fiery passions conveyed all throughout The Dirty Girls Book Club.”
—Sensual Reads
“Savanna Fox . . . delivers a fast-paced, fun, and sexy story line . . . I’ll be anxiously awaiting the next book club selection.”
—Romance Junkies
“This story is well written, has a great plot, and is definitely a fast-paced page-turner.”
—RomFan Reviews
“Some intensely hot scenes.”
—Fresh Fiction
“The sex was hot, often raw and desperate, and as the relationship grew, so did the emotional depth of each sexual encounter.”
—Just Erotic Romance Reviews
“The Dirty Girls Book Club is a deliciously sexy tale of a book club’s exploration into the erotic genre.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Titles by Savanna Fox
THE DIRTY GIRLS BOOK CLUB
DARE TO BE DIRTY
BOUND TO BE DIRTY
Titles by Savanna Fox writing as Susan Lyons
SEX ON THE BEACH
SEX ON THE SLOPES
HEAT WAVES
Bound to Be Dirty
SAVANNA FOX
HEAT | NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
Copyright © 2014 by Susan Lyons.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-63080-8
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Fox, Savanna.
Bound to be Dirty / Savanna Fox.—Berkley trade paperback edition.
pages cm.—(Dirty Girls Book Club)
ISBN 978-0-425-26875-9
1. Book clubs (Discussion groups)—Fiction. 2. Erotic fiction. I. Title.
PS3606.O95653B68 2014
813'.6—dc23
2013028715
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Heat trade paperback edition / February 2014
Cover art: Blue scarf © Sarah Frost / ImageBrief; blue fabric © Ruzanna / Shutterstock.
Cover design by Danielle Abbiate.
Text design by Laura K. Corless.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Contents
Praise
Titles by Savanna Fox
Title Page
Copyright
Author’s Note
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
About the Author
AUTHOR’S NOTE
When I conceived of the Dirty Girls Book Club, I hoped that each member would have a chance to enjoy her own sexy literary inspiration and her own erotic romance. In The Dirty Girls Book Club, when the club read historical erotica, marketing executive Georgia Malone found her unlikely soul mate in hockey star Woody Hanrahan. In Dare to Be Dirty, artist and confirmed city girl Kim Chang discovered that the words “cowboy” and “erotic” went together very nicely when she met sexy rodeo star Ty Ronan.
Now the club has decided to research the popularity of BDSM. Will their selection, Bound by Desire, be the catalyst that puts the spark—and the love—back in Dr. Lily Nyland’s faltering ten-year marriage to helicopter bush pilot Dax Xavier?
Thanks to my editors at Berkley, Katherine Pelz and Wendy McCurdy, and to my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim of Prospect Agency, for their support of the Dirty Girls Book Club series.
Thank you to Laura Langston and Nazima Ali for critiquing a draft of this book. Thanks to Lacy Danes and Jodie Esch for research assistance. And my very special thanks to bush helicopter pilots Rob Foers and Steve McKinnon for answering my many questions. All factual errors are mine, not theirs!
Bound by Desire, the book the club is reading, is purely my creation.
If you enjoy Bound to Be Dirty, I hope you’ll check out my other titles at savannafox.com, where you’ll find excerpts, behind-the-scenes notes, recipes, a monthly contest, my newsletter, and other goodies.
I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website.
One
Isn’t it time we tried a little bondage?” Marielle asked.
Lily Nyland frowned across the table at her. “You’re not serious.” The four members of their book club occupied
a corner of the Gerard Lounge in Vancouver’s elegant Sutton Place Hotel. Lily had chosen this week’s meeting place, and the fireplace and cozy shut-away-from-the-world ambiance were perfect on a chill December day. The topic of conversation, not so much. Lily caught the eye of the waitress and gestured that she’d like a second martini.
Marielle flicked her dark, wavy hair back from the scoop neckline of her coral sweater. “We need to try BDSM. You know, dominance and submission, bondage, spanking, all that stuff.” Her slight Caribbean lilt gave the words a sultry nuance that, to Lily’s mind, the subject did not warrant.
“Could you say that any louder?” Kim, seated on Marielle’s left, asked dryly. Her spiky black hair was streaked in shades of green and blue, complementing the pattern on her hand-painted denim jacket. In the windowless lounge with its décor of brown leather and glowing wood, accented by red Christmas poinsettias and pine boughs, the petite Chinese woman resembled an exotic bird perched in the middle of an English gentlemen’s club.
Fortunately, the lounge was only half-full and no one sat beside them. Still, Lily found it surreal to be discussing BDSM here, at five o’clock on a Monday afternoon. She’d agreed to read—and even, surprisingly, enjoyed—the historical erotica and the sexy cowboy novel the other women had chosen earlier this year, but to her mind, BDSM bordered on abuse. Only this morning a patient had come in with a broken arm, bruises, and cuts, saying she’d tripped on the basement stairs. Twice previously, she’d come in with serious injuries she attributed to her own clumsiness, and her body bore testament to other wounds.
“All that stuff,” Lily stated firmly, “is demeaning to women, and can be dangerous.” For the third time, Lily had given her patient a brochure about domestic abuse, information about women’s shelters, and a referral to a counselor. “I see patients who’ve been abused by the men in their lives. Believe me, there’s nothing sexy about it.”
“Of course not,” Marielle said, “but BDSM is different from—”
Leaning forward, elbows on the table, Lily interrupted. “The idea of a man dominating a woman, tying her up, and hitting her sounds awfully close to abuse to me.”
George, seated to Lily’s right, put down her glass of red wine. “I agree, and that’s not something I want to read about.” A striking redhead, her real name was Georgia but only her fiancé called her that. In her sage green wool suit, yellow blouse, and patterned scarf, she fit the classy bar perfectly.
George Malone, a marketing executive, always came across as professional and feminine. Marielle Clarke, with her ever-changing jobs, was more casual and chose vivid colors that complemented her Jamaican coloring. Kim Chang, an artist and budding entrepreneur, created her own distinct style. The three women were very different, and all beautiful.
Once upon a time, Lily, with her short wheat-blond hair and light blue eyes, had felt attractive. Now, the oldest of the group at thirty-two, perpetually tired and stressed, she knew she looked older than her years. Her taupe pantsuit and tailored white shirt were classic, yet today they made her feel drab.
Marielle, never quick to take “no” for an answer, said, “I haven’t read any BDSM, but it’s such a hot—pun intended—trend. I’ve heard successful career women rave about these books. I can’t believe the authors promote anything that’s abusive or demeaning. Women don’t fantasize about abuse.”
“I don’t really know what BDSM is,” Kim confessed cheerfully. “Ty and I might be doing it, and I wouldn’t even know.”
“I’ve done it,” Marielle announced.
“Of course you have,” Lily said, torn between amusement and dismay. Vibrant Marielle believed variety was the spice of life, and liked her own life highly seasoned—in terms of drinks, jobs, and men.
“What did you do, Marielle?” Kim demanded, her near-black eyes dancing.
“I met this superhot cop. He strip-searched me, handcuffed me to the bed, and made me give him a blow job.”
“That’s sex play,” George said. Then, questioningly, “It was sex play, right?”
“Yeah, a really fun game.”
Lily and her husband had never done anything like that. It was ridiculous. And yet . . . the thought of Dax strip-searching her triggered pulses of arousal between her thighs. She’d always found his bad-boy side extremely sexy. Not that she’d seen it in a long time.
He’d be home for the holidays on Thursday, after two months at a mining camp. A bush helicopter pilot, he’d been away more and more over the past couple of years. Clearly, he’d rather fly in the remote wilderness than be with her. Even when he was home, they barely spoke, and not about anything important. That distance made her worry that he was cheating on her, but she’d been afraid to ask. Afraid their marriage might be over. Now it was time to face that fear. She had to know the truth.
Life without Dax . . . A pang of soul-deep sorrow stabbed through her. When the waitress approached with her second martini, Lily reached gratefully for it. “Thanks.” She took a long swallow. I won’t think about Dax right now.
She refocused on Marielle, who was expanding on the strip-search scenario. “George is right,” Lily said. “That’s sex play. BDSM is no game.”
“Oh, you’ve read those books?” Marielle’s chocolate eyes twinkled.
“Of course not. But as a doctor I’m aware of a range of sexual behavior. At least from the physiological standpoint.” And just how stuffy could she sound?
“But sex is about more than physiology,” George said. “It can be—should be—about emotion.”
Once upon a time, making love with Dax was the most blissful, erotic, loving act Lily could imagine. They’d become lovers when she was seventeen, a virgin. Her sexy bad boy had initiated her, taught her to experience passion. In the past couple of years, though, it was like he was phoning it in. They both were: going through the motions, climaxing, yet never truly connecting. With so many doubts and fears on her mind, how could she surrender to intimacy?
Roughness under her right index finger made Lily realize she was twisting her wedding ring, the band of small diamonds Dax had put on her finger a decade ago.
George was still talking. “Is BDSM just a different kind of sex between two people who care about one another, or is it abuse?”
“Look how pathetic we are,” Kim said. “It’s this hot trend and we’re not even sure what it is.”
“If you want to know, research it online,” Lily said.
Kim reached for her glass of designer beer. “Fiction’s more fun. We’re a book club and this is a popular trend. We should read it and discuss it.”
“Thank you,” Marielle said. “So you’re in. George?”
The redhead’s topaz and diamond engagement ring sparkled as she lifted her wineglass. “I see Kim’s point.” She sipped then said, “Yes, I think we should read it. We’ll have interesting discussions.”
Lily made a sound in the back of her throat.
“She snorted,” Marielle said.
“Sounded more like a growl to me.” Kim grinned, then sobered. “Lily, do you really hate the idea? You chose the last book.”
Marielle nodded. “It was good, but man, it was dense. I had to concentrate on every word, and re-read whole pages.”
Lily pressed her lips together. She’d enjoyed the prizewinning literary novel for exactly that reason. Reading it absorbed her totally; she couldn’t stress over her failing marriage or worry about her crazy-busy medical clinic.
The waitress arrived with the platters of appetizers the women had ordered. When she’d gone, Marielle raised her fruity cocktail like she was proposing a toast. “Come on, Doc Lily. Open your mind.”
“It’ll give us so much to discuss,” Kim chimed in.
“If I can give it a try,” George said, “maybe you could too?”
In the ten months since the four of them, strangers with an interest in books, had formed the club, the others had figured out her triggers. Yes, she believed in keeping an open mind, being flexible, and t
rying new things—even if she sometimes had to be reminded. But the few minutes she stole from her busy schedule to read gave her the only pleasure and relaxation in her life. And while it was true that the two erotic novels the club had read this year had given her most of the orgasms she’d experienced recently, she’d rather read anything other than BDSM. Oh well, it was only one book. If she hated it, she’d skim. “Fine. Pick a book.”
Savory aromas drifted from the appetizer platters. Starving—no, a diet of yogurt for breakfast and coffee for lunch was not something she’d recommend to a patient—Lily spread hummus on a piece of grilled flatbread and took a big bite. Mmm, garlic and spice.
“We should read that book everyone’s been talking about,” Kim said.
George, who was lifting a ring of calamari to her mouth, stopped her fork. “That’s a series. Don’t you need to read all three to get the full story arc?”
“Oh yeah,” Kim said. “That’s a bit much.”
“It certainly is.” Lily shook her head. “No way do I want that much BDSM.”
Kim gave a quick splutter of laughter and tilted her head toward the neighboring table.
Lily realized that, as they’d been talking, the lounge had filled up and the four of them had automatically raised their voices. At the table beside them, a couple of tailored guys with big black cases—lawyer bags, in all likelihood, as the courthouse was a block away—shot surreptitious glances in their direction. Her cheeks heated.
“One book,” Marielle agreed, spearing a buffalo-style hot wing. “After we eat, I’ll pull out my iPad and we’ll choose. By the way, are we meeting next Monday? It’s Boxing Day.”
Because the club members led such busy lives, they’d discovered they could never agree on one full evening a month. Instead, they met every Monday for an hour after work. For Lily, who ran a busy family practice clinic, it had the benefit of getting her out of the place early for once. They’d also found that weekly meetings let them discuss their impressions as they read the books.
“I like sticking to our routine,” Lily said, and the others agreed.