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  What The Luck

  The Complete Box Set

  By

  KB Winters

  Copyright © 2015 KB Winters

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 KB Winters

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  More from KB Winters

  Plush A Billionaire Romance

  What The Luck

  Table of Contents

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  More from KB Winters

  What The Luck Book 1

  Chapter One — Dylan

  Chapter Two — Ellie

  Chapter Three — Ellie

  Chapter Four — Ellie

  Chapter Five — Ellie

  Chapter Six — Dylan

  What The Luck Book 2

  Chapter One — Dylan

  Chapter Two — Ellie

  Chapter Three — Ellie

  Chapter Four — Ellie

  Chapter Five — Ellie

  Chapter Six — Dylan

  What The Luck Book 3

  Chapter One — Dylan

  Chapter Two — Ellie

  Chapter Three — Ellie

  Chapter Four — Ellie

  Chapter Five — Dylan

  More from KB Winters

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  What The Luck

  Book 1

  By

  KB Winters

  Copyright © 2015 KB Winters

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Chapter One — Dylan

  What is the fucking point of being on vacation?

  The hotel was nice enough—the beaches were picturesque and tranquil. And yet…none of it seemed to be soaking in or “washing away the stress” like the glossy brochures had promised.

  Two days in, and I was bored out of my skull. So far, I’d spent more time sponging up the resort Wifi to check my work email—doing my best to put out fires from afar—than anything that was actually supposed to be a part of this so-called dream vacation. Somewhere along the way, I had the sick realization that the only thing capable of getting my heart pumping these days was making money. The long hours I logged in at my office back in New York were what really mattered.

  Since arriving in this tropical haven, aptly named Cielo, I’d gone jet skiing and rock climbing, and yet, none of it had come close to matching the thrill of haggling and throwing my weight around in a boardroom. Or a bedroom. I thought, with a small chuckle.

  All right…maybe my mother had made a good point when she’d said that I’d worked too long and too hard. I could still hear her pleading in the back of my mind to take a vacation. After all, this entire thing had been her idea. Make that—demand.

  “Dylan,” she’d said, “you have some kind of sickness! A week off won’t kill you. It might be exactly what you need!” I had to concede, it probably wasn’t healthy to stand on a lush island and be wishing for my Armani suits and a conference room full of high-powered movers and shakers. Especially—I noted, looking around the crowded bar—when there were so many half-naked women who would probably throw themselves at me, if I wasn’t holed up in the corner by myself.

  I knocked back another tumbler of whiskey and then turned to lean casually against the bar as I let my eyes wander and take in the visual titty-feast happening around me. My hotel suite was practically made for sex—I’d secured the best room the resort had to offer. A five-bedroom suite with its own private pool and hot tub. The master bedroom had a-glass enclosed shower that could easily fit half a dozen people.

  If that’s what I was interested in. Which, tonight, I decidedly was not. I’d had my fill of fuck fests and after enough of them, they’d gotten pretty boring. I wanted something…more.

  And, if I was going to let someone into my crazed life—even just for the night—they needed to be someone special. This cock wasn’t for the faint of heart.

  My eyes went back on the hunt around the room. The music was beating at a hypnotic pace, and the mass of bodies dancing together in the middle of the room was more like a giant orgy than anything else. The heat of the island was no match for the best AC system money could buy, and when there were this many bodies crammed into a room, it was a losing fight.

  I’d already picked out several gorgeous women amongst the throng, all of which would probably fit the bill for a wild night of play. In fact, almost all of them looked like cock teasing models here for a swimwear shoot, their tanned bodies lithe and lean as they danced, drank, and laughed among each other in small clusters around the outskirts of the crowded dance floor.

  Boring.

  I’d fucked more models than I could even remember. The siren effect they’d had on me had grown quiet over the years.

  It was too easy. They were too easy. I wanted something more…difficult. More challenging. Most women threw their selves at me and had good reason. I was good—no, I was fucking amazing and I knew it.

  The rest of the room appeared to be middle-aged ladies, some of whom looked like they were on vacation with their friends, taking a break from the strain of their minivan lives, enjoying a week away from chauffeuring a herd of children all over suburbia. But then again—some of them were definitely cougars on the prowl.

  I choked back a laugh as I watched one in particular on the opposite end of the bar. She wore a dress that had to have been at least two sizes too small for her curves—everything popping out at the seams, as she appeared to slosh her way through her seductive efforts over a twenty-something who clearly had lost a bet with the friends that were egging him on and cat-calling from across the room.

  It was amusing to people watch in the cesspool, but as my buzz started to wane, I felt my interest quickly slipping away.

  I turned back to the bar and flagged down the bartender. She’d caught my eye earlier, a sun-kissed blonde with blue eyes and a crooked smile. She’d noticed me too, and I figured if I was still around at closing time, she might be just the kind of distraction I was looking for. She offered me a slow smile as she set the drink down in front of me. I nodded in thanks and wrapped my hand around the tumbler, biding my time, waiting to see if she would try and start up a conversation.

  She didn’t.

  I’d barely brought the wicked liquor to my lips when a hard shove pushed me forward against the bar. My chest hit the flat top, knocking the air from my lungs and spilling my drink everywhere. I gasped to catch my breath and let loose the first thing that came to mind.

  “Hey! What the fuck? Watch your fucking step!” I roared, spinning around to confront the rude prick who had plowed into me.

  But, I’d found myself staring into the wide-eyed glance of an exquisite creature that I hadn’t seen on the island before.

  And she looked like she was about to cry.

  “I’m so sorry! Here,” she began fumbling with the
black clutch in her hand. I noticed that it was coated in some kind of blingy stuff women like, and yet it looked like quite a few were missing on the backside. “Let me get you another drink.”

  She looked up and I tore my eyes away from her pathetic little bag and brought them back up to her deep blue eyes.

  Oh fuck. Where’d she come from?

  It took me a second to jolt out of my daze and still her hands, stopping her from pulling out her credit card.

  I certainly didn’t need her to buy me a drink—whoever she was.

  “Not necessary,” I said. “Just take it easy.”

  My words came out harsher than intended and she rolled her eyes. It was subtle, but I noticed it all the same. “I’m not drunk, asshole! I got pushed. I said I’m sorry.”

  I stared at her, my mouth twisting into a scowl at her. I wasn’t used to people talking to me like that—especially not delicate-looking girls like her. I looked past her shoulder and saw a big guy getting rowdy with his friends right behind her. The guy was huge. He’d probably been a linebacker—or still was. And it was clear he was intoxicated out of his mind and hadn’t even noticed that he’d set off some kind of chain reaction bulldozing effect.

  I leaned across the girl, breathing in her scent—a mix of rose petals, honey, and hairspray—and tapped the drunken guy on the shoulder. He whipped around like he’d been shot and it took a moment for his eyes to focus in on me. “Hey, man, look where you’re going. You ran into this young lady.”

  He looked at her and then back to me and mumbled something under his breath. His words were instantly swept away in the music and noise of the bar, and he turned back around and carried on with his buddies, just as loudly as before.

  “Asshat,” I muttered, before begrudgingly pulling back away from the girl.

  “I’m Dylan, Dylan Luck.” I said, holding out my hand to her.

  She smiled and something lurched inside of me. There was something about her that almost made her seem like she was out of place in the bar. She looked young, but I doubted she was underage. What was it about her? I couldn’t pinpoint it, but my cock thought it could. It was already rock hard like a steel shaft in my pocket.

  “I’m Ellie.” She took my extended hand and shook it firmly. “I’m really sorry about your drink.”

  “Ellie! Get your ass over here! This is my jam!”

  Ellie’s head snapped in the direction of the yell, and I followed her gaze to a wild-looking girl standing near the small stage where the band was playing. She was wearing a black tank top that was cut off to expose her stomach and jean shorts so tiny, the pocket lining hung out past the hemline. Each move she made, as she danced along, revealed an eyeful of flesh. And damn near every inch of her was covered in tattoos. Bright, colorful splashes all over her arms, across her shoulder and one high on her thigh that looked like a holstered gun in a lace garter. I smiled as I watched her, and then pulled back to watch Ellie, watching her. I wondered how the two knew each other, because they couldn’t have been more different.

  Ellie wore a floor length dress that covered up her whole body. Her arms and back were left bare, and in the heat of the night, parts were sticking to her with sweat and sent my mind into overdrive. She was a curvy girl—there was no doubt about that. But she looked to be stacked in all the right places.

  “Nice to meet you, Dylan…Luck. Cool name,” she threw back without another glance and went across the room to join her boisterous friend. With a quick survey of the situation, I guessed she wasn’t here to pick up a one-nighter. Or she would have fallen all over me. But then…backless dress—probably no bra, and she was wearing thong underwear. I could tell by the little ‘v’ that showed though her dress right above her perfectly bouncy ass cheeks. My kind of girl.

  The bartender had placed a fresh drink on the bar next to me and I grasped it, not tearing my eyes away from Ellie for even a moment. Her friend—whoever she was—obviously had a few drinks in her and was living out the “hands in the air, like I just don’t care” persona to a T. Ellie, on the other hand, bounced back and forth and occasionally gave her round ass a shimmy when her friend urged her on.

  And what an ass it was. I shifted on the bar stool, suddenly aware that my desire to s bury myself between her voluptuous thighs was becoming painfully obvious.

  Ellie stood out among the sea of others, like she was someone from another world. Nearly every other woman in the room was barely dressed in more than a bikini—hell, most of the women were in bikinis and Ellie’s long dress was a departure—and sexy as fuck. It swirled around her as she danced, getting tangled in her legs, and I found myself desperate to tear it off of her and explore every inch she had carefully concealed. The other women in the room were tanned—either by the sun or a spray—some to the point of looking like orange popsicles—but not Ellie. Her skin was like smooth porcelain, her smile so easy and free. I knew I was obsessing, but something about her was driving me absolutely insane and I’d barely spoken two words to her. I continued to watch her, thinking of how she seemed to be completely oblivious to how fucking gorgeous she was.

  I needed to change that.

  Chapter Two — Ellie

  “Can I just ask…again…how fucking cool is this?” My best friend, Martha, aka Dixie, asked me before letting out a loud whooping sound. Her voice had gotten progressively louder as the night had worn on, but the bar was crowded and thankfully, the live band was more than capable of drowning her out.

  I laughed. I was used to her vivacious, in-the-moment energy, but my smile died on my lips when I spotted the rude fucker I’d been pushed into minutes before. He was standing with his back to the bar, scowling in my direction.

  Jeez, what is his fucking problem?

  I’d apologized about the spilled drink and for a moment he’d seemed pleasant, but then he was staring at me like that. Weirdo.

  “Who is that?” Dixie bellowed at me as the music faded before rising up into the beginning of the next song.

  At that moment, his sneering face turned, and his eyes locked on mine.

  Shit! Do something interesting, I prompted myself. I looked down at my clutch, as if it were some kind of bag-o-tricks. I wished it were. Then I could fish out some magical prop that would make me look cool and detached, instead of blotchy and sweaty, under the intense, brooding, stare-thing he had going on.

  When I dared to look back up, he had moved on—to Dixie.

  Typical. I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t that I was interested in the rude stranger—this Dylan Luck, as he’d introduced himself—but it was annoying to constantly get passed over for my outgoing, up-for-anything best friend.

  Oh, well. That was one I wasn’t sad to lose out on.

  The song got louder, swallowing up any hope of making conversation, so I distracted Dixie by joining in for the next dance.

  When the band stopped to take a break, I took the opportunity to catch my breath and told Dixie I needed to go out and get some air. The ceiling fans and open doors weren’t cutting it for me. I was certain that an entire school of fish could live in the pool of sweat building up in my fancy-schmancy push-up bra. I had hell trying to find one to go with this dress, but I finally managed to find one online.

  I stepped outside and took in a gasp of air like I’d been held under water too long. The back deck was littered with chairs and had a breathtaking view of the ocean. It was like a sparkling blue-green jewel during the day and a mysterious lagoon at night under the moon.

  “Ahhhh.” I released a sigh and closed my eyes, relaxing against the rails and letting the night air do its best to cool my overheated skin.

  “Nice night,” a voice chimed in.

  My eyes popped open and Dylan was standing next to me.

  Where the hell did he come from?

  My heart rate instantly jumped ten beats per minute…or second…as I found myself looking up into his dark eyes.

  “Don’t you think?” he asked.

  Think what? My mind had gone
completely blank. What had he asked me?

  “Mm-hmm.” I nodded, still clueless as to what his original question had been.

  He laughed softly and the melodic sound sent my heart into further overdrive. I peeled my eyes away from his devilishly handsome face, and tried to focus on the soft waves lapping at the shore. The night air was no longer cutting it—I was beginning to think a quick dunk in the water might be needed to bring my body temp back to normal.

  “How long have you been on the island? I haven’t seen you around, before tonight.”

  “Dixie and I arrived this morning. I won the trip in a sweepstakes, if you can believe that. To be honest, I don’t even remember entering the damn thing, but this really pushy guy kept calling over and over. I thought he was some kind of telemarketer guy. You know the kind— you won a trip, blah blah, but finally, I listened to his spiel and here we are…” I let my voice fade and I caught a glance at the amused look in his eyes as he stared down at me.

  Shit…now I was babbling.

  “Dixie, huh? Tell me about her,” he said, turning around so we were both facing the ocean.

  I should have expected the question, but for some stupid reason, it still threw me off track. As though, for a brief glimmer of a moment, I’d actually let myself think someone like him would be interested in someone like me.

  He moved up closer to me and I knew he wasn’t going to let me go until he got answers.

  “What do you wanna know?” I asked.

  “How do you two know each other? You seem very…different.”

  I snorted. That was putting it mildly. Sometimes I asked myself the same thing.

  “We go to school together and we’re roomies.” I didn’t elaborate for fear of my motor-mouth running away with me again. I already felt like he thought I was a lunatic. Why give him proof?

  “Hmm.” He nodded.

  I risked another glance in his direction. He was staring out at the ocean and I took the opportunity to fully take in his perfection. His hair was black, or if not quite, a very dark brown. He had it cut short on the sides, almost like a military cut. But then, the top and front were left longer and were ruffled into a perfect amount of spike. His body was on another level. He was obviously obsessed with the gym. The deep blue shirt he was wearing fit him like a glove, showing off his muscled form with each move he made. I let my eyes wander over his defined back muscles and shoulder blades as he leaned forward, his forearms braced against the railing. As my eyes dropped lower, I allowed a more detailed inspection of the tattoos on his arms that peeked out under his sleeve and ran almost all the way down his arm. It looked like some kind of tiger design. All black and gray ink, no colors. I almost reached out and traced the line down before realizing what I was doing and yanked my hand back like I’d been about to touch a hot fire.