Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  I try to busy myself with my cell, reading some articles and re-tweeting funny tweets, until I look at the clock and see that it’s past midnight. Everything in my room is freaking me out, from the shadow of my curtains to the swaying tree outside. I need to pee but dare not get up for the bathroom. When I am sure my bladder is on the verge of exploding, I run to use it but refuse to look inside the drain, paranoid about a certain clown murdering me. I am no closer to falling asleep, so I decide to do the unthinkable and send him a text.

  Me: Are you awake? #FuckingPennywise

  That little bubble appears on my screen.

  #Jerk: Yes #LOL

  I jump out of bed and, without thinking, walk down the hall and tap on his door. He says to come in and when I enter the room, I’m surprised to see him shirtless and reading a book; I’m not surprised it’s a Stephen King novel.

  Don’t look at his abs, even though they deserve to be looked at.

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “I figured since you were on Twitter for the last hour.”

  “You follow me?”

  He nods and pats the bed beside him. I move closer to the edge of the bed, trying to create some much-needed distance between us.

  “I hate that movie. Who writes a book about clowns killing children?”

  “A very talented author.” He chuckles.

  “Our kid is never watching that movie,” I tell him.

  He keeps still and I turn to look at him, wondering why he remains silent. Okay, avoid the fucking six-pack because you know it’s only the hormones that made Kitty just spurt Niagara Falls down below.

  “Is the baby moving now?” he asks.

  “Uh, no . . . why?”

  “You’re squirming.”

  “Oh . . . just uncomfortable.” Great lie.

  His eyebrows raise in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “My back is stiff, just from the extra weight.” Fantastic lie!

  “Here,” he says, then shuffles behind me.

  I feel his hands press against my upper back, rubbing the spot that needs the most attention.

  Shit lie! Shit lie! But oh so very good.

  I let out an involuntary moan and regret it almost immediately. The warmth of his breath is only inches from my ear and I feel the goose bumps settle across my skin.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No . . .” I almost choke.

  Allowing my body to relax, I close my eyes and enjoy his gentle caress until the baby moves again. Quickly, I grab his hand and move it towards the spot where the baby kicked. He moves in closer behind me, until his chest is pressed up against my back. The echoes of our heavy breathing are the only sounds heard. He doesn’t move closer and his soft breaths are inching along my skin, taunting me, teasing me, until I am feeling things I know I shouldn’t.

  Barely above a whisper and under his touch, I warn him that we shouldn’t be doing this.

  “We’re not doing anything . . .” he murmurs back.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  I know I’m not sure about anything, except for how right he feels at this very moment. How right he always feels when he touches me. How my body does this thing that I cannot explain. Almost like it’s possessed with feelings and desire for a man that’s unattainable. A man I loathe because he is a downright jerk.

  “All I’m doing is letting the baby know who I am.”

  With my eyes closed, I respond quietly, “The baby knows. Why do you think it moves every time I’m near you?”

  His hands move around my stomach, tracing my skin like a fragile piece of broken glass until he has his arm around my torso, pulling me in closer to him. I close my eyes again, and this time I swear it’s his lips against the base of my neck. Brushing along, warm, teasing me with a slight flick of the tongue. Maybe I’m just imagining things. I open my eyes the second his cell vibrates on the bed. The cool air grazes my skin instantly, and I know he has pulled away.

  “Hey baby,” he answers.

  Baby? He has the nerve to call her baby while he is licking my skin? The room suddenly feels warm as my skin begins to crawl. I shuffle away from him until I am off the bed and standing near the door. He doesn’t look my way, and instead, stares amused at the floor. There is a loud noise coming off the cell speaker and his laughter, along with his complete disregard for what just happened between us, angers me and forces me to take whatever dignity I have left and exit the room.

  Instead of heading back to my room, I open the door to Gemma and Melissa’s room, climbing into bed beside them. Gemma wraps her arm around me and mumbles, half asleep.

  “You’re falling in love with him, Pres.”

  She has no idea what she’s talking about. Pfft . . . love. Haden isn’t capable of loving anyone but himself. Though Gemma said I was falling in love with him. But there is zero truth to that. I know what love is; after all, I had it with Jason and this in no way could be compared to my relationship with him.

  Love is feeling secure, knowing you can count on that person no matter what. There is comfort, happiness, and a feeling of being content.

  Haden expressed none of that, and what do I expect anyway? A 26-year-old jerk who loves himself is going to be my kid’s dad.

  But not the man I am spending the rest of my life with.

  There is a huge difference.

  Or maybe, absolutely no difference at all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dad and Haden left early to go hunting, leaving us girls for the day. Mom thought it would be swell to take us shopping.

  Jumping from store to store, the three of them “ooh” and “aah” over anything baby related, while I just sit in the corner of the store allowing my tired feet to rest. Shopping and pregnancy do not mix. I am ready to say yes to everything that they shove at my face just so we can get out of here.

  “So, Pres, have you made a list of all the things you need?” Gemma asks, holding up two sailor outfits.

  I cringe at the outfits. “No.”

  “Stop the press! You’re so anal with your lists and your need to be organized,” Melissa points out, this time holding up two lamb onesies which, I have to admit, are adorable.

  “Just busy and stuff.”

  “Presley Malone. Since when are you ever this blasé?” Mom takes the sailor outfit from Gemma and places it in her basket.

  Great. My kid is going to look like one of the Village People.

  “Mom, I’m busy with work. I don’t have time to plan these things. I’m sure there’s some website that with a click of a button will deliver everything to my door.”

  The three of them stare at me, wide-eyed in shock.

  “What have you done with the real Presley?” Gemma inquires, raising her eyebrows at me curiously while holding up a cowboy outfit, frills and all. I shake my head in disapproval.

  “Why are you all making a big deal out of this?” I answer defensively.

  “Because you’re having a baby. It’s the biggest deal there could ever be,” Mom intervenes.

  Now they’re ganging up on me. I can’t please anyone, and right now that diner across the road with the awesome banana fudge sundae is the only thing I can think about.

  “Are we done? I’m hungry.”

  The three of them nod and pay for the items before we head out of the store. They don’t raise the subject again, and they don’t realize that I’m completely terrified. Every day I’m experiencing something new, whether it’s exciting or unpleasant, and even though I’m surrounded by family, I feel so alone. Even more so after the Jerk’s willingness to abandon the intimate moment between us, proving again that he’s unreliable.

  The banana fudge sundae is a temporary cure before we head back home to pack. When Dad and Haden pull up in the old pickup truck, I greet them outside, instantly hit by a god-awful stench.

  “What the hell is that?” I scowl.

  “Don’t look in the back, Poodle.”

  Too late. I do and run straight for the ba
throom to empty out the contents of my stomach. There is a gentle tap on the door, followed by an, “Are you okay . . . Poodle?”

  “Go away, Jerk!” I yell, head in the basin, saying goodbye to that banana fudge sundae.

  I don’t realize the door has opened, but I hear the gentle creaking sound as the door is shut. My stomach is still weak and the Jerk grabs all my hair and holds it back with his hand. Whether it’s because of the road kill smell or his caring gesture, I hurl one last time into the toilet. Flushing it, I sit back on my knees, facing away from him.

  “Do you need me to get you anything?”

  I shake my head as he continues to hold onto my hair.

  “I think I puked in my hair,” I almost cry.

  He leans in and I think he is smelling my hair. “It still smells like coconut.”

  “Coconut? Oh, that’s my shampoo to stop me from looking like Diana Ross.”

  This is awkward. Do I tell him to let go of my hair? Then I remember last night and how he so easily just ignored what happened between us. I shuffle my head to the side and loosen my hair from the grip of his hand.

  “I’m going to take a shower.”

  I stand up, avoiding eye contact, then walk out of the bathroom and head upstairs to escape him.

  After spending a good hour thoroughly rinsing my hair, I head back downstairs, but halt just before the bottom step where the Jerk is standing, staring at the pictures on the wall.

  “There’s a picture here of you and him,” he tells me, staring at the wall disconcertedly.

  “Yes. He was my fiancé and my parents considered him family.”

  “Do they still see him, talk to him?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t asked them. If they did, it wouldn’t bother me. Jason is great and it’s not fair for anyone to have to cut ties just because we aren’t romantically involved.”

  His eyes are boring into the picture; unsure of why it seems to be bothering him so much, I move my gaze to the picture itself to see if I’m missing something. It’s still the same picture I saw yesterday. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Is there a problem? You look annoyed.”

  Abruptly, he turns to face me. “How would you like it if you went to my parents’ house and saw a picture of me and my ex on the wall?”

  “I wouldn’t care because it’s your ex. And since we aren’t together, I actually really wouldn’t give a goddamn shit. That would be more appropriate wording for it. Besides, you’re with Eloise now. If I did care for you, which I don’t in the slightest bit, you being with her would be like adding salt to a wound,” I rant.

  He exhales with a slight snicker. “Well, I’m glad you cleared up the confusion.”

  The Jerk walks away from the conversation and I see him disappear down the hall. How am I going to survive being on the same flight as him? Thank God we didn’t book seats next to each other because I don’t think I could handle any more of his childish outbursts.

  We have an early meal before it’s time to pack and head out. With my suitcase ready to go, Mom knocks on the door before entering.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

  She comes in carrying a small bag. “Here, honey. I wanted you to have this.”

  Inside, I pull out a small yellow blanket. It’s soft and covered in colorful stripes. I press it against my cheek and a very familiar emotion overwhelms me. It smells a little like mothballs, but judging by the age of the blanket, it’s probably been sitting in some trunk in the attic.

  “This was your blankie,” she tells me. “You carried this around with you everywhere you went until you were five.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I almost tear up. “What else is in the bag?”

  “Oh! Here you go. I kept it all these years.”

  She pulls out this yellow bottle-looking thing with a suction cup attached. For some unknown reason, I place the suction cup on my cheek until Mom informs me of its use. “That’s my breast pump.”

  I throw it back at her. “Eww, Mom! I can’t use your breast pump!”

  “Why not? It’s still in perfect condition.” She places it against her breast, mimicking the sucking motion.

  “You know what, Mom? I’ll start a list right now. And a new breast pump can go on the top.”

  “Have it your way. I just don’t know why you would waste money when this is in perfectly good working order.”

  I don’t say another thing. Instead, I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight. I don’t want to let go, frightened that the next time I see her I’ll be in the hospital bed pushing out a watermelon from my lemon-sized vagina.

  “I know you’re scared, honey. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

  Letting out thin sobs, I nod my head, trying to translate my fears into words. “Just promise you’ll be there, Mom. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “I promise. You won’t be alone.”

  We let go of each other and even my mom’s eyes have gone glassy. She carries my suitcase downstairs where everyone else has already congregated on the porch.

  Gemma and Melissa hug me and I’m sandwiched between them as they are promising to visit. They are quick to push me aside to fuss over their new favorite person. They exchange something with the Jerk—phone numbers, I suppose. Dad loads the car, then moves towards me to give me one of his big bear hugs.

  “Take care of yourself, Poodle. We’ll see you when we get back from Fiji.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your second honeymoon.” I cringe.

  “I’ve got a new bikini! I forgot to show you,” Mom says excitedly.

  “It’s a quite a piece of string. I’m going to have to shoo those Fijian men away,” Dad jokes.

  Gemma and I both groan at the same time before I walk towards the car and give my final wave goodbye.

  ***

  “What do you mean the flight’s canceled?”

  The crack of the thunder startles the both of us as we stand at the crowded check-in desk. The attendant gives us a dumb look. Haden is angry and slamming his fists on the counter to no avail. The line behind us is out the door and it appears everyone is as frustrated as we are.

  Annoyed, I lean against the counter with my back to the attendant as she punches stuff into her computer.

  “You okay?” Haden calms down enough to ask the question.

  “Yeah, just tired.”

  Apparently, due to this wretched storm, all flights are canceled. Haden is still mouthing off and I turn around and push him out of the way since he is getting nowhere with this.

  “What are you going to do to compensate us? Accommodations for starters?” I take charge.

  She clicks away on her computer and makes a few phone calls. A minute later we are booked at the hotel by the airport. According to her, it’s the last room available. Now it’s was my turn to panic.

  “What do you mean, only one room?!” I raise my voice.

  “Well, I assumed you were a cou—”

  I interrupt her. “Never assume! It makes an ass—”

  Haden places his hand on my shoulder. “Okay, calm down,” he says coolly. “No big deal, you take the bed and I’ll take the chair.”

  “You can’t sleep in a chair, Haden.”

  “I don’t think we should be in the same bed . . .”

  She is staring wide-eyed at us, watching our conversation unfold. Unable to control my anger once again, I unleash my frustrations on her. “See, that’s why you don’t assume!”

  I grab the tickets she issues us for the next flight and walk away without thanking her.

  Geez Presley, calm the hormones down. A growl escapes me and I think it’s my anger, but it turns out to be my stomach. This day—or should I say weekend—has gone from terrible to disastrous.

  “Let’s get you something to eat,” Haden suggests, taking both our bags and walking towards the exit.

  We head outside the airport and straight to the hotel across the road. It is no five-star, but it’s acceptable for a night
’s rest.

  “You want to go to the restaurant?” he asks.

  “Room service. We’ve got vouchers.” I smile in delight.

  As soon as we settle in, I’m on the phone with the restaurant, ordering everything on the menu. And I mean everything. Haden announces that he is going to change in the bathroom. Moments later he emerges with his PJ bottoms on and no top.

  “Do you always parade around shirtless?” I pry, trying to come off annoyed rather than interested.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No . . . yes . . . it must be your generation,” I say, mostly to myself.

  “I’m sure you oldies do it. Try it some time? Why not now?” he says with an inviting smirk.

  I exhale, loudly, to cover my embarrassment. Haden one. Presley zero.

  I grab my clothes and head to the shower. The steaming hot water is exactly what I need and as my body relaxes, my skin begins to prune from the water. Getting changed into my tank and boxers, I cringe at having to wear a bra to bed. It’s extremely uncomfortable with the size of these bazookas, but what choice did I have? The tank I’m wearing is light pink and my nipples have darkened from the pregnancy, not to mention their size. I could have given the Amazonian ladies on National Geographic a run for their money.

  Exiting the room, I see that Haden has taken the lids off the plates and my stomach rumbles embarrassingly. The plates surround the bed and I jump on it, immediately devouring everything in sight. On my last bite, I let out a sigh.

  “Jesus, I thought you were kidding when you said you could eat all that.” He finishes taking his last bite.

  “Baby needed it,” I tell him.

  “The buffalo wings as well?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the cheesy fries?”

  “Yes,” I repeat.

  “The pizza with extra toppings and salad on the side?”

  “Yes and yes.” I smile, satisfied.

  “The chocolate mud cake?”

  “No, that was for me.”

  He shakes his head in disbelief, curling his lips as he laughs. “Well, you still look beautiful. Eloise would never eat anything like that. She’s into this stupid diet where everything has to be green. Even the wedding menu is all green.”