Look But Don’t Touch – Filthy Dirty Desires Read Online Jenna Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
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Welcome to a filthy dirty desires!
Forget being sweet … this year we want to give into our dirtiest desires.
Taboo, dangerous, and over-the-top, we’re bringing you everything you were too scared to ask for.
**Don’t worry, loves, these are still packed with the heroes you crave and the HEA’s you deserve!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

Becca

“I’m just sayin’, baby. You’re almost eighteen. You can’t keep using that underage excuse on me anymore.”

I may not cringe outwardly, but I’m cringing so hard on the inside that I’m sure some of my organs are rearranging where they are in my body. I pick up the pace and start to walk back toward my trailer, hoping Trevor will get the message and not follow me. But of course he doesn’t.

Trevor never gets any of my messages. Not the first seventy-four I gave him when I told him I “wasn’t dating right now,” and not the next twenty-six when I started just using the excuse that my dad wouldn’t let me date until I was eighteen. That’s not even true. My dad may be protective and intimidating as hell, but if I found the right guy, he’d totally let me date. Trevor, of course, is not the right guy. Not for me or anyone else, as far as I can tell.

Trevor has tried to pick up every female, single or not, in all of Singing Pines Trailer Park since the testosterone first started flowing through his creepy, goblin-esque body. If there was an opposite of romance, Trevor would be it in human form.

I thought he would get the message that I wasn’t interested and simply move on, but for some reason, he’s locked his sights on me like some kind of homing missile and will simply not go away, which makes it hard for me to just roam around the park or even leave my trailer without being harassed.

“Do you remember what I told you before I told you I wasn’t eighteen, Trevor?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You told me you weren’t dating, but that was like…forever ago. You can’t use that excuse on me forever either.”

This is one of those times that I wish I was more of a badass – like Charlize Theron or Gal Gadot, and that I had the balls to just turn around and tell him to his face what I thought of him. That he is a creep and a gross, horny, scumbag just looking for any girl who will give him the time of day. But unfortunately, I’m just not that kind of girl.

Confrontation makes me want to throw up. Even the thought of confrontation makes me feel nauseous. No, I have no choice. I have to do what I always do – let my dad handle it for me.

“You hear me?” Trevor calls out.

“Yeah,” I reply, laughing nervously.

I see my trailer up ahead and start walking faster, my heart rate already racing, but it’s then that I feel Trevor’s cold, wiry fingers close around my arm from behind. He stops me and pulls hard, spinning me around to face him.

His breath smells like cigarettes and beer as he grins at me like some kind of creepy principal that you know has a wife and kids at home.

“Why you always running away from me, huh?” Trevor was a few years ahead of me in high school before he dropped out. Last I knew he was selling weed and fake IDs to freshmen.

“I…I have to go home, Trevor,” I lie. “My dad wants help with dinner.”

“A girl who knows how to cook.” He nods with approval. “I like that.”

Without warning, Trevor places a hand on my side, almost like we’re dancing, but with the furthest thing from romance in his eyes.

“Trevor, I—”

“Hey!” My father’s voice booms from behind me, instantly shattering the tension of the moment and sending a soothing wave of relief through me. I glance over my shoulder to see him striding over to us, his face firm, fists clenched at his side. “Take your hands off her if you ever want to walk again.”

Instantly, Trevor’s demeanor changes.

“Whoa, we were just talking, Mr. Malone,” he says as he lets go of me with both hands.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you were,” my dad growls as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me behind him. “Now go talk to your momma, little boy, and don’t talk to my daughter again. Or you won’t live to regret it.”

Pure fear washes over Trevor’s smug, cocky face. Compared to my father, Trevor looks like a tiny little child. He raises both hands in front of him and begins to quickly walk backward.

“Sure!” He smiles. “Okay! No, problem, Mr. Malone! I’ll see ya!”

“No, Trevor,” my dad replies. “You won’t see either of us.”

Trevor nods and laughs nervously, stumbles over a branch, and almost falls.

“Right! Okay!”

I try not to giggle as we watch him go, but it’s hard not to feel a little bit of joy at his humiliation.

“Come on, honey,” my dad says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” I ask as we walk. “I’m not eight anymore, Dad.”


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