There’s only one problem.
Dylan’s rock star best friend, Ashley Player, is not a nice guy. He’s broken, bitter, protective of Dylan—and wants Amber gone.
It’s almost enough to send her packing…
But when Amber and her camera inadvertently catch Ash kissing Dylan, she finds herself sucked head-over-heels into a world of secrets, lust and heartache… and a three-way relationship that will change everything she thought she knew about love.
Get Dirty Like Dylan
Sneak Peek: DEEP
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Try out the white-hot DEEP series!
DEEP (DEEP #1)
The more lines they cross, the deeper they get…
Top cadet Lana Marsden lives by the rules. The most important rule of all: no messing around with an officer.
She learned that one the hard way.
Now her only desire is to survive the grueling DEEP Training program and leave that scandalous past behind.
When she reports to Station Six amid wild rumors of erotic hazing rituals and sadomasochistic games, she’s not prepared for any of the rumors to be true—or for her insatiable attraction to Sergeant “Catch” Durant, her tattooed rebel of a trainer.
One touch from Catch, and Lana knows she’s in trouble. One night of white-hot ecstasy, and the rules melt away...
A cadet with a secret.
An officer with a secret kink.
A whole lot of rules to be broken.
DEEP
CHAPTER ONE
“Nice ass.”
Lana glances over her shoulder. The cadet walking behind her flashes a charming if not predatory smile, a mouthful of straight white teeth. Trust me, that smile says, I know what I’m talking about. Military poster boy, the kind accustomed to panties raining at his feet back home. Not exactly Lana’s type, but her cheeks heat as she turns away.
It’s the bodysuit. The stretchy, breathable fabric, fitted from the neck to wrists and ankles, clinging to every curve, the long zipper from throat to navel promising easy access. Lana knows it looks good on her, the sheen of the navy blue, a color that brings out her blue eyes. All trainees wear blue, even the officers going through the program, to differentiate them from the corpsmen and the officers on duty who wear black; the same black Lana will wear in only three months’ time if she doesn’t fuck this up.
This morning in her cube, the tiny dorm room she’s shared with three other women for the last eight weeks, she was elated to put the bodysuit on for the first time. Once she stepped out into the corridors of the ship, once she was among the men, she lost her equilibrium, just like the first time she took a simulated spacewalk and almost puked. She felt their eyes on her, on the suit, and had a hard time forcing down her breakfast. Now as she makes her way through Transport Bay, where one hundred and thirty-six identically dressed trainees await disembarkment, she can’t help wondering if the skin-tight bodysuit and the gazes roaming her figure from every direction are just the first tastes of the many tortures awaiting her at Station Six.
But no, rumors aren’t always true. If anyone knows this, it’s Lana.
She hefts the heavy rucksack containing everything she owns in the universe onto her shoulder, striving to make this look easier than it is—a fundamental skill in the International Space Corps—and works her way through the crowd toward a group of familiar faces. According to the ISC’s Fraternization Policy, friendship across ranks is a slippery slope into full-on “Prohibited Relations.” Rangers flank the many portal doors of the bay, surveying the assembled trainees; it’s wise to stick to your own kind, especially when you’ve got an audience bearing arms. A steady, silent breed, those Rangers, solid and impassive, their black uniforms lined with sculpted armor. There’s something undeniably hot, in a primal sort of way, about well-built men in uniform, armed and trained to protect. Lana wonders—not for the first time—how in the universe Rangers have sex, if no one’s supposed to touch them.
Focus, Marsden.
She sets her rucksack down next to the group of young women, among them, one of her roommates, Matthews. Next to Matthews, a pretty cadet with short black hair and catlike eyes sizes Lana up.
“How goes it?” Matthews sweeps a hand through her loose blonde hair. In transport, some of the rules about grooming have been disregarded, but you’d be stupid, or ballsy, to step foot on Station Six with your hair in your face—and ballsy Matthews is not.
“Hey.” Lana notes that most of the women have swept their hair back into a knot or a sleek ponytail, like hers, and all of the men have finally shaved. She considers pointing this out to Matthews, just as that deep clank-and-rumble resounds through the hull of the ship. Too late; the shuttle is docking.
“I hope you girls’ve got a lotta lube packed in those rucks,” says Cat Eyes, “because you are gonna get fucked.”
Matthews’ eyes widen, but Lana does her best to look unconcerned. She heard the rumors about Station Six during transport, just like everyone else did; the same rumors she heard at Station One when she received her reassignment—rumors about the debauchery on Six.
It all happened so fast, the last minute change, a redistribution of the trainees and her reassignment from the training program at Station Seven to the one at Six—the station where her brother, Adam, has been a trainer for the last year. Of course, Adam never mentioned kinky sex or erotic hazing rituals to her, but why would he? He never expected his little sister to show up at his station. And when she asked him about it on their last com, right before she boarded the shuttle, his answer was vague and superior. Don’t believe everything you hear, Lana.
“I hear they have some serious hazing going on,” Matthews concurs, hushing her voice for effect. “A friend of mine in Basic said her sister went through Six four years ago and she had
