Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

***

  The drive isn’t long but gives me enough time to think carefully about my next move.

  I park the car and walk toward the house. The lawn is overgrown with garden beds requiring a good weeding. The porchlight is broken but it doesn’t matter since the Christmas lights are still up. I keep the smile to myself—the same lights have been up for the past five years. Tom had a Clark Griswold moment and since then he’s left them up because he can’t be bothered removing them.

  The porch wraps around the house, and I can hear their voices while making my way around the back. Benny and Rose are sitting on a sun chair, his arms casually wrapped around her. Tom is leaning against the pole, laughing along with them. They turn and watch me approaching. Benny immediately looks straight into my eyes, keeping his expression rather still. Rose offers me a warm smile—nothing sexual. Just a friendly welcome-back type of grin.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged back,” Tom says, folding his arms with a pensive gaze.

  I keep my distance, just in case Benny’s ready to take me out again. I probably shouldn’t have worn my favorite jersey and shorts.

  “Can I talk to you guys, please?”

  Rose stands up to leave. I place my palm forward, motioning for her to stay.

  “I don’t even know where to begin. I know I fucked up, there’s no excuse behind that. Fuck! I can’t even think straight,” I babble incoherently.

  Benny hasn’t changed his expression, and Tom continues to watch me with curious eyes.

  Rose is the first to speak up, “Who is she?”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, narrowing my eyebrows.

  “Who’s the reason why you can’t think straight?”

  I don’t say anything, and Tom interrupts, “Maybe I should fuck her so you see what it feels like?”

  The mouth on the fucker.

  I want to punch his cocky grin but know full well he’s egging me on to get some sort of reaction from me.

  “A wise woman once asked me if I believed in karma. I do. Fuck me up, that’s fine. But if you touch her, I will pretty much rip your balls out and feed them to the coyotes.”

  “So then whip out your balls and we’ll call it even,” Benny challenges, followed by a roaring laugh.

  Tom joins in, and then it dawns on me that I can finally relax. These boys will always be my brothers. We had our rough patch but we’ve gotten through it. I just need to chill the fuck out and let all of us be. Have faith in our friendship and make better decisions moving forward.

  And stop screwing around with strange women because you never know what’s around the corner.

  “So, should we tell him the news?” Benny looks at Rose. She nods, and I wonder what the big surprise is.

  “We’re having a baby,” she announces with a contented smile, happily holding onto Benny.

  I’m happy for them yet sad at the same time. A baby means that Benny will be tied down with parental duties and zero time to hang out with Tom and me.

  “Congratulations,” I say with a smile. “Who would have thought… Benny, a dad.”

  “Don’t diss my dad skills, I can change a diaper like a boss.”

  “Dude, you’ve never changed a diaper,” Tom chuckles.

  “Nope. But I cleaned up your shit, Tom… when you sharted in my car.” Benny howls then walks over to give me a hug. “I miss you, man.”

  “I miss you too, bro,” I respond, patting his back.

  “Geez boys, don’t get all Brokeback Mountain on me,” Tom complains, scowling at our display of affection.

  “Aww, someone’s jealous, come here,” I tell him.

  Tom runs to us and throws himself on top of us, just like back in college. He has some weight on him—it’s those damn steroids he takes all the time.

  “So, Noah boy is in love, huh?” Tom pushes my chest, forcing me to use all my strength not to fall over.

  “Yep... and it sucks,” I finally admit out loud.

  “It ain’t so bad.” Benny smiles, making his way back to Rose. Argh, the two of them are too cute for my liking. It only makes me miss Morgan more. And I hate that I miss her. It’s a sick carousel of emotions.

  “Well, can’t wait to meet her,” Rose says.

  “We’re not together... it’s complicated.”

  She chuckles softly, grazing Benny’s arm as she speaks, “Someone once told me that love can do crazy things to a person. I’m sure, you’re acting pretty crazy right now. Take a moment to stop and think long and hard about what you want before it’s too late.”

  I still remember the moment when I told her that. And now, the shoe’s on the other foot.

  I hang out with them for a little while longer before saying goodbye. We promise to catch up in the near future, but for now, I have only one thing on my mind.

  Morgan Bentley.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Just my luck, the flight is delayed. Another reason why I hate flying. I’m taking the red-eye back to California to finally take charge of my life. I know I want her, I just don’t know what I’m going to do or how to go about it. I thought that five hours on the plane would give me the answers I so desperately need, but between the screaming kids and the woman who excused herself a million times to use the restroom, I’m no closer to a desired outcome.

  No clue whatsoever.

  What makes this non-plan more difficult is the fact that I have no idea where Morgan lives. The only person who can help me is Scarlett.

  It’s late at night, just after eight, when I drive at her place and pull up to the gate. The guard calls the house, and Scarlett’s quick to let me in. As soon as I park the car, I step outside and walk with ease to her front door. Upon pressing the doorbell, she opens it within seconds, dressed only in a white negligee slightly covered in a matching white robe.

  Fuck, she must have company.

  My eyes narrowly avoid her ample tits, staring directly at her face instead.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Noah.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say looking around. “You obviously have company.”

  “No company, just you and me.”

  It clicks, finally. And I’m at a loss of what to do. If you had placed me in this exact situation two months ago, I would have bent her over the expensive marble hall table and fucked her pretty little ass. But she’s Morgan’s sister. And I’m failing to understand her eagerness to please me knowing what happened between us. When we had almost fucked after the red-carpet party, she had no clue Morgan and I were somewhat together, telling me she was too preoccupied with work to see what was happening between us.

  She places her hands on my chest, caressing my shirt, and releases a soft moan. “Noah,” she murmurs, her bright red lips teasing me. “I know you’ve fantasized about me. I know you pushed the book deal to get closer to me. You want me? I’m all yours.”

  She pulls me by the hand toward the kitchen. Only the light underneath the cupboard is switched on, leaving the room quite dim. Sliding her robe off, Scarlett jumps onto the countertop, spreading her legs open, giving me a widespread view of her pussy. I stare, in shock, then shift my eyes nervously to the fridge.

  What the fuck is going on here?

  I’m never one to be rendered speechless, priding myself on my excellent skills in situations just like this. But I’m completely stumped right now. No different than a sixteen-year-old boy losing his virginity for the first time. Awkward Jim in American Pie would sum this situation right up.

  Her hands find their way around my backside, pulling me in closer to her while my body stiffens on cue.

  “Fuck me, here, on this bench. Make me scream your name,” she moans, tilting her head back.

  Here, before me, is Scarlett Winters.

  The most desired woman in the world.

  Men want her, women want to be her.

  And I want Morgan.

  Plain and simple.

  I grab Scarlett’s wrist and pull it to the bench, restraining her. Just as I’m about to ask her
how she could betray her sister and expect me to follow, I hear a gasp behind me. I turn around, dropping her wrist to be met with Morgan’s hostile face.

  “Morgan,” I call out as she runs from the room.

  I sprint through the house chasing her outside until I’m within reach and pull her arm, stopping her.

  She begins to fight me, thrashing her arms about while yelling profanities. “Let me fucking go, Noah,” she cries as I try to restrain her

  “Morgan, please. What you saw is not what you think.”

  “You’re fucking my sister! I know what I saw!”

  “I wasn’t fucking your sister. Please, Morgan. Look at me,” I beg, bending slightly so our eyes are at the same level.

  I can see the pain in her eyes, mixed with anger and hostility seeping through her veins as I clutch onto her hard. She’s dressed rather casually in a pair of jeans and a white tank, yet still looks as beautiful as the first day I saw her. I’ve missed her so much, and wish she’d understand that I didn’t touch her sister and would rather be touching her.

  Making sweet love to her for the rest of my goddamn life.

  She refuses to make eye contact but stills her body enough for me to be able to talk.

  “I didn’t fuck her. Would you just fucking listen to me?”

  “Why, Noah?” She removes her arm from my grip. “You choose never to listen to me. Then you gave me an ultimatum. Why should I even think about listening to you?”

  “Because I love you.”

  There—I said it.

  The three special words I’ve never said to a woman before. And now that I’ve said them, I want to shout it out loud for everyone to hear. Relief washes over me and I expect everything between us to be okay. After all, how could it not be since I’ve finally given her what she wants?

  Her stare is wide and quizzical, her laugh that follows strangely dark and disturbing. I’m confused by the way she’s reacting. Shouldn’t she be in my arms telling me she loves me too?

  “You have a lot to learn about love, Noah.” She silences herself while watching my confused expression. “It’s quite easy to tell someone you love them. What’s difficult is actually showing someone you love them. And until this very moment, I’m yet to see anything which would make me believe that you love me.”

  I find myself pulling away, offended that she thinks my words mean nothing after I’ve finally confessed the truth. “And would the same not go for you, Morgan? What have you done to show me that you love me? You’re still married. And I’m pretty certain you still sleep in the same bed with your husband even after I found out the truth,” I say with distaste. “I should be asking you the same question.”

  “You’re right. I’ve done absolutely nothing but carry the guilt inside for the last two months. I’m sorry you think that I’ve done nothing because apparently, it’s never about me rather about everyone else and what they want.”

  Running my hands through my hair, it’s my turn to laugh at her comment, at how frustrating she can be. “You can’t blame anyone else but yourself. You make the decisions. You dictate your own life. You can’t keep using everyone else as an excuse, Morgan.”

  And as if I struck a chord, shaken her beliefs to the very core, she stares back at me with downcast eyes, before the truth really does hurt. “You know what, Noah? You’re right,” she says, confirming the truth. “I should live my life for me. Make my own decisions. And I’ll start by making one right now.” She moves closer, placing her hand on my chest to feel the beat of my heart. It’s beating rather loud, thumping like mad. And with just one touch, it begins to slow because her touch alone is what it’s been waiting for.

  “I love you, but sometimes love isn’t enough,” she says faintly. “Walk away from me now. Figure out exactly what it is you want from me. Because I’ll tell you this…” She stalls her words, keeping my curiosity piqued. “If you come back to me and tell me you love me, I’ll take those words to heart and never let them go.”

  I resist raising my hand to caress her face because I do love her. But throughout all this, she’s finally begun to understand me and knows that I need to do some soul searching because I can’t give her all of me right at this very moment. There are too many unanswered questions, and I need answers before I take her into my arms and never let her go.

  I choose to walk away, not because I’m weak but because I need to find strength.

  And two weeks later, I find it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I sit in the car watching the man who’s the husband of the woman I love. The day is slightly overcast, or perhaps it’s the LA smog I’ve grown accustomed to. Either way, it does nothing to help my already dejected mood.

  There are many people around him, from assistants helping with hair and makeup to the models themselves being photographed. With the camera in his hand, he switches angles, and moves in closer while taking shots. He appears to be comfortable in his element, smiling happily and directing the models into different poses.

  He could also be smiling because he’s married to the woman you love.

  Tracking down Wyatt has been more difficult than I had anticipated. With Morgan and I apart and Scarlett refusing to talk to me after her sexual advances, it gave me no choice but to contact their dad, Max.

  We had a very long chat about the situation. Apparently, Morgan had confided in him very early on about her feelings for me which is why he knew of us being together at the barbecue. The more he spoke about his relationship with Morgan, the more I realized he’s just like my mom. And funnily enough, it wasn’t just about me seeking his approval but equally him seeking my approval to date Mom.

  You can only laugh at such a twisted outcome.

  My shoes walk awkwardly against the sand, digging in as I make my way over to where they’re shooting. An assistant asks me if I’m part of the shoot, attempting to usher me toward the makeshift wardrobe.

  “I’m here to speak to Wyatt Bentley,” I say flatly.

  She walks over to where Wyatt’s standing, and sure enough, he turns around to see me. He yells at the models to take five, removing his camera from around his neck and handing it to the assistant. With bare feet, he steps over to where I’m standing and extends his hand.

  “Noah.” He smiles politely.

  I don’t know why I shake it—it feels like a handshake with the devil. Or perhaps that’s what I perceive in my head. I hate him because he has everything I want. Yet, hate is such a strong word for a man I know nothing about.

  He motions for me to follow him to a quiet café which sits along the busy pavement. Venice Beach is bustling with many different walks of life, surprising me everywhere I turn. I’ve only been here once many years ago, but it’s obvious not much has changed.

  We enter the building, and he orders a coffee, offering me something to drink. I order a coffee too, but my insomnia is weighing heavily on my shoulders. The café’s small, only a few scattered tables inside the air-conditioned area. Aside from the employees, there’s only an elderly couple—possibly tourists—who sit quietly near the window admiring the outside view.

  “So,” he says. “Let’s talk.”

  I don’t know where to begin. The conversation has replayed over and over in my head, yet here I sit without words. I know I’m sitting here across from him because he’s the key to Morgan and I being together.

  “I need to understand your relationship with Morgan. This is complicated…” I trail off.

  He takes a sip of his coffee, leaning back on his chair as he eyes me dubiously. He’s roughly the same height as me, not as cut up but still quite muscular. His light blond hair is trimmed reasonably short, and I didn’t notice before, but he has a tattoo on the side of his neck. I can’t make out what it is, but I pray it’s not her damn name.

  “When I first met Mo, she was exactly like me, so carefree and just wanting to have fun. We met on some wild weekend in Vegas and despite your reluctance to hear this, it was purely sexual and not
hing more.”

  I despise him calling her Mo. It makes me extremely jealous. More than the mention of their purely sexual relationship. His face, along with the rest of this room, is a nice target to punch my fist into. But I have to hold back, curling my fists under the table and keeping my rage at bay.

  “When her best friend was unresponsive from some date drug, we were forced to wait by her side at the hospital until she woke up. It was the worst forty-eight hours of our lives.” He recalls the memory but not without reliving the pain that’s etched all over his face, drinking more coffee to compose himself.

  “I’d just broken up with my ex-girlfriend of two years and when you start questioning life because you think someone is dying next to you... I acted cowardly and ran back to her. It was only one night but that’s all it took.

  “But I moved on. Mo was fantastic and we just fell in love with each other and life. We decided to get married on a whim. It was going great till we found out that Addy was pregnant.”

  The waiter comes over, offering us a refill which we both kindly accept. After a quick break, he continues, “Morgan was upset and I thought she would walk away, but she didn’t. Michael was born and everyone fell in love with him. Morgan especially.” His smile says it all. Morgan’s a kind and generous-hearted woman despite her evil-queen persona when she’s around me.

  “Around two years ago, Morgan noticed that Michael had particular behaviors that appeared different from other children at his daycare. He communicated but not as easily as the other children. The both of us narrowed it down to him developing slower. But then we began to notice other things. How when he played, he became fixated on certain things rather than pretend playing like the other kids.

  “For the three of us, we were first-time parents, so we didn’t really question it further, assuming his behavior was simply different. It was his teacher who first raised concern. Telling us he had difficulty socializing with other children. From there, we decided to seek help while he was still young. He was diagnosed with high-functioning autism.”