Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  “When? When did you reach out to me?”

  He keeps quiet, rubbing his neck with the palm of his hand while staring at the ground.

  “Exactly. So don’t tell me how stupid I am. It’s bad enough I now have this on my shoulders. You putting me down doesn’t empower me when I need all the strength I can get right now. I’ve fucked up. I trusted him and look where it’s gotten me.”

  “I’m sorry. What a fucking asshole,” he yells, much to my surprise. “Do you want me to call my people?”

  “Your people?” I question, confused. “To do what?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Cut his dick off doing a Lorena Bobbitt?”

  He cringes, his posture falling over as if he knows what that feels like. “If that’s your wish.”

  “Your people can really do that? Who are these people?”

  “People.”

  I sigh, then let out an unexpected cry.

  I hate him.

  I want bad things to happen to him.

  I want lots of people to make his life hell.

  The bastard has hurt me more than I thought imaginable. I’m embarrassed that the whole world watched me fall in love with an asshole. And now the whole world will watch as my life falls apart.

  What about George?

  Will he live with me?

  Is there such thing as a custody battle for dogs?

  Will he stay with Wes every other weekend? Poor George! He doesn’t deserve to be raised in this type of environment. I wonder if there’s a support group for pugs being raised in a broken home.

  In the heat of the moment, I grab my cell out of my purse and throw it into the lake.

  What have I done?

  Oh crap!

  It clicks seconds later as the ripples in the water disappear.

  I run without thinking and dive straight into the water then remember the lake is filled with many creepy creatures. It’s not too deep where I land, and in the distance I hear Logan’s voice who’s angry and annoyed, followed by the splash beside me.

  I bob down again, searching for my cell with tears battling against the water and my sobs muffled.

  I scream. I yell. I curse at Wesley Rich for breaking my trust. For tearing my heart into a million pieces and for making me believe what we had was love. And when I pull myself up for air, Logan’s standing in front of me, breathing heavily with my cell in his hand.

  “Are you psycho? Seriously, Emmy!”

  “Don’t call me that,” I shout back in his face.

  “Well, you are. So, the dickhead cheated? Move on. He didn’t deserve you to begin with. Marriage is for the weak. Don’t fall into that whole love bullshit. You can have a good life without it.”

  “What would you know?” I argue, ungrateful he found my cell. “You’ve never been in love. At least, I took a chance.”

  “Geez woman, will you listen to yourself? Here’s your damn cell. Don’t throw an expensive phone in the lake.” He pushes it toward my chest, eyes wide and fueled with anger.

  “You’re all the same, that’s the problem,” I mouth off, not sure where I’m going with this because anger only sees one path—destruction.

  “You need to cool off. I’m surprised this cold water ain’t doing that. And for the record, Emmy, we’re not all the same.”

  “Yes, you are. It’s all about the pussy. The more you get the bigger you feel. There’s no good men out there who actually believe in love and being faithful. Ash will fuck up. He’s just like you, can’t keep his dick in his fucking pants.”

  “Emerson,” he rasps, holding onto my wrist and watching me carefully. “You’re angry. You have every right to be angry. Just don’t destroy the people who love you because of how he treated you. He’s the dick. He doesn’t deserve you. End of story.”

  “Doesn’t deserve me?” I laugh again. “Who am I? I don’t even know who I am. Everything I do in life is for everyone else. Make everyone else happy. Entertain the world. My whole life is in the tabloids. Nothing I do is private. I’m sick of it, sick of it all! And it’s my fault. Dad warned me and I didn’t listen. I was so pissed off that you and Ash left me to be big stars that I wanted to rival you.”

  “And you did,” he admits with a smirk. “You’re the most wanted TV star. I know men that jerk off just talking about you.”

  I cringe, aware that something foreign has brushed against my leg. “That’s gross,” I say flatly, calming down. “Well, it depends who, but still… you really like to paint that picture and distract one’s thoughts.”

  “I’m just saying you’re gorgeous.”

  I keep my breathing still until the slimy, furry thing brushes against my leg again and I scream, jumping into Logan’s body and wrapping my arms around his neck. Without even thinking, I also wrap my legs around his waist scared half out of my mind.

  “Oh. My. God! What the hell is that? An anaconda?”

  His arms lace around my entire body, protecting me from the beast. “Emmy,” he whispers, the sound of his smooth voice calming my racing heart. “Stop living the lie. Do something for you. You owe it to yourself.”

  This is the most serious conversation we’ve ever had. I’m waiting for him to laugh, or give me a wet-willy and drop me into the beast’s mouth. But it doesn’t happen.

  “I’m scared,” I admit in the softest voice.

  “Of what?”

  “That you’ll give me a wedgie.”

  The stupidity of the situation has slapped me in the face. First, I throw my cell like a tantrum-throwing toddler. Then, I find myself in the arms of Logan Carrington, who no doubt, is plotting something wicked in his sadistic mind.

  Between the moon which reflects off the water and the darkness that surrounds us, the sounds of his hitched breathing echo enough for me to remain still. In some crazy way, my heart begins to beat wildly, mirroring his breathing.

  “Will you just shut up for once?” he grunts out with a sullen glare. The complete opposite to the calm demeanor he showed only moments ago.

  I exhale as if his threats don’t affect me, challenging him because he hasn’t changed one bit. Still, a stubborn know-it-all who thinks he’s king. Rule the world and everyone around him must bow down.

  “Yeah? Well… make me,” I say in defiance, holding my arms out so we stare face-to-face.

  Something in the way his eyes bore into me, warns me again that Logan never plays fair. He always takes things to the next level. His hand slides down my back and over my ass. My dress is floating, and with one move, his palm is against my bare cheek after he scrunches my panties aside in his hand. It doesn’t help that my reflexes are slow. With my hands ready to push him away, the jolt of my body from his fingers brushing against the entrance of my pussy startles me—the moan barely at bay as he repeats the movement again.

  Is this happening?

  You’re dreaming...

  This is some sort of nightmare that you’ll wake up from soon... like now... or now... or now.

  Wake up!

  My mouth falls open, pressing against his ear from the pressure of him drawing our bodies close together. And just when I think my imagination has played wild and crazy tricks on me, his lips move to my collarbone, biting down on my skin.

  “Logan,” I whisper, strained and holding back the pain from his bite. “What are you doing?”

  Not answering my question, he buries his head in my neck and grips harder. I have no idea what’s going on and feel helpless because I’m unable to stop it.

  This is wrong.

  This is weird.

  Why am I not fighting back?

  His fingers dance around my entrance, and in one quick move, he shifts my panties to one side and they glide effortlessly inside causing me to suck a breath in and arch back while my body melts into him. His pace quickens and my blood begins to heat, my skin steaming in the cold water.

  My body begins to act on instinct, succumbing to the fire in my belly that’s rising slowly and cloudi
ng any rational thoughts. With small but quick moans, my arms wrap around his back tighter, desperate to avoid eye contact while he continues to slide in and out.

  The waves of the water allow my hips to sway freely, in sync with every thrust.

  My stomach begins to flutter—the fire is beyond control—and is followed by a swirl that builds up and makes my whole body react. I’m sensitive to every touch and movement. Biting down on the tip of his shoulder I lose control, my teeth digging into his skin as the ache mixed with fire ignites on every surface of my skin and barrels through me in one explosive orgasm.

  With my eyes closed, I ride the contractions that wrap around his finger and immerse myself in the pleasurable sensations that have overcome me. The rise and fall of my chest evens out, reality setting in as to what I’ve done.

  What we have done.

  I don’t have any words. I’m speechless. Incoherent.

  Basking in an intense orgasm from just one finger.

  The finger that belongs to the one man you vowed never to touch. And he vowed never to touch you.

  So now what?

  “I n-need to g-go,” I stutter nervously, embarrassed and looking for an escape.

  “Emmy,” he calls softly, gripping me tightly in his embrace.

  Squirming my way out of his grip, I muster every ounce of strength in my body and swim away as fast as I can, desperate to escape what’s just happened.

  The water becomes shallow as I stand to run away, but I’m completely soaked with water and one other thing.

  Guilt.

  Chapter Five

  “Reality is a cold hard bitch.”

  ~ Emerson Chase

  Bang. Bang.

  Thump. Thump.

  The vocals are loud, piercing my eardrums while my eyes stare directly at the ceiling. The sun is peeking through the blinds, reminding me of another beautiful spring day. With summer just around the corner, the air has become warmer removing that morning chill.

  It’s unusually warm this morning, my large bed socks becoming overbearingly hot. That, coupled with the constant pain in my head, leaves me frustrated and increasingly hostile.

  After all these years, Dad hasn’t changed one bit. He prides himself on being an early bird, the kind of person who wakes at 5:00 a.m., and has done more in the first two hours than I could achieve in one whole day.

  When we were kids, he would blast music through the house at 6:00 a.m. forcing us all up.

  Today’s no different.

  Mom used to complain, being a night owl like me. Yet, years of being married—to the most stubborn man ever—has her changing her ways. She hates to admit it, but she told me she gets more writing done first thing in the morning than she does at any other time of day.

  I have to admit I’ve changed over the years, finding myself waking up early to get in a run or hang out at the local coffee shop before the swarms of paparazzi find me.

  Great when you’re on the West Coast.

  The East Coast time difference totally kicks my butt.

  I love Bon Jovi. I aced Livin’ on a Prayer singing karaoke at pub crawls back in the college years. However, I don’t enjoy it when I’m nursing the biggest hangover, ever.

  Turning my body sideways, I snuggle on my side glancing at the pile of clothes I left on my bathroom floor.

  Wet clothes.

  From the lake.

  The lake where Logan...

  Don’t say it!

  You’ve forgotten all about it.

  Okay, I’m calling bullshit on myself. You haven’t forgotten about it. You slept. You slept because you cried yourself to sleep due to life being so fucked up and you have no clue what the hell happened last night.

  Wesley Rich cheated on your gullible ass—that’s what happened.

  And, you hate yourself for enjoying what Logan gave you.

  The soft pillow is perfect to bury my face into and try to block out the images that haunt me as last night replays over in my mind.

  I’m angry—livid. To the point where nothing makes sense.

  One could assume that my state of mind is bordering insanity, and I’m one step away from swatting the imaginary flies away from my face.

  Thinking about the moment I saw that image of Wesley and how terribly sick to the stomach I felt, and how all I could think about was every promise we made to each other and how easily he’d forgotten them.

  I bite on the pillow and let out a frustrated scream, knowing no one in the house can hear me with the loud music playing. The second I do, I regret it instantly as sharp pain ricochets straight through my temple causing me to wince and let out a muffled cry.

  I begin to open my eyes again—forced to face reality.

  My cell sits on top of my nightstand, dead and unable to turn on. Your own fault.

  Leaning over the side of the bed with great difficulty, I remove my iPad from my bag. Dragging it up and onto my lap, I shuffle into a sitting position and tap on my inbox to start reading an email.

  Emerson,

  I know you’re angry and not taking any calls. You know I don’t like to take sides, I work for both you and Wesley.

  But, he’s an idiot.

  I’ve negotiated a deal with a photographer, and have our lawyers drawing up contracts now. 2 mill and he’s gone. It’s our only way out of this.

  Talk when you’re back home.

  Cheers,

  Nina

  P.S. I spoke to Wesley this morning. He’s been trying to call you.

  The temptation to chuck my iPad across the room crossed my mind. But I’m done throwing my expensive electronics because of what he’s done.

  Two million dollars?

  Fuck! Money we worked hard for, down the fucking drain. I don’t even want to think about how that affects our investments, it’s the last thing on my mind right now.

  I can tell by Nina’s tone she hasn’t slept. Probably the biggest scandal to rock her portfolio since one of her clients impregnated some illegal immigrant who babysat his kids.

  My head falls back on the headboard. I have two choices here—one, l work with Nina and fix this fucking mess or two, bury my head in the sand like an ostrich.

  There were so many things to think about, but my head’s aching and my stomach begins to growl. To be honest, I’m surprised I even have an appetite given the amount of alcohol pumping through my bloodstream.

  I climb out of bed knowing there’s no way I can continue to sit here and do nothing. If I sneak downstairs now, I can possibly avoid Logan. I didn’t even ask where he, Ash, or Alessandra were staying because I was too caught up in my own mess to think about any of it. I assume they’re staying here and that thought makes me want to retreat back to bed.

  There’s no chance in hell I can look at Logan again. We can also kiss our friendship goodbye. Last night was many things, and regret is one of them.

  As I step into the bathroom, I strip down to nothing and stare at myself in the mirror. The reflection shows my pale skin, a few scratches on my leg from the random creature who attacked it. I run my fingers along my collarbone and notice a small bite mark on the top of my shoulder. The tips of my fingers run over the minor groove and my senses heighten. His teeth had bitten so hard it’s left a small, purplish mark against my pale skin.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on the throb between my legs which is persistent and ravenous. How did I let this happen? Was this a pity fuck? It wasn’t even a fuck, merely a finger fuck for God’s sake.

  Jesus! I got off on one finger.

  Opening my eyes quickly, I twist my body and turn the faucet allowing only cold water. I need to wash this away. The hurt, guilt, and desire for someone who should never ever be in my thoughts.

  Logan Carrington? What the fuck were you thinking!

  I linger in the cold shower blissfully unaware of my surroundings until I hear the lawnmower outside. Wow! Dad’s really pulling out all the stops. Quickly getting out, I dry myself and dress in my denim shorts and a white ta
nk with a unicorn on the front. I purposely wear my bikini underneath, hoping to catch some rays later when everyone’s gone.

  When Logan is gone... that’s what you mean.

  My hair is wet and tangled, which I manage to brush and tie up into a bun. I had it cut recently to the length of my collarbone, something Wes hates because he loves long hair.

  Before I leave the bathroom, I pick up my damp and reeking of lake water clothes from last night. Throwing them into the basin, I run the water allowing the dress to soak before handwashing out the grime. Poor kitties. Their faces look sad and riddled with guilt.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk to the door and place my hand on the handle. I haven’t thought about what I’ll say if I see him. It’s only 7:05 a.m. and the boys train every morning for two hours. They won’t be home until eight. That gives me forty-five minutes to grab breakfast then find somewhere to hide. So much for not being an ostrich.

  I make my way to the kitchen. Only Mom is inside, sipping coffee and reading some book with a chick on the front titled Hooker.

  Great, nice reminder of your cheating fiancé.

  “Thinking of switching professions?” I tease, sitting on the stool facing her. When my ass touches the hard wood I’m quick to flinch, uncomfortable and sore.

  Don’t go there. Not in front of Mom.

  What if she can hear your thoughts? She will forever judge you for what you’ve allowed him to do.

  Mom places the book on the table, careful to keep her bookmark in place. She’s dressed in a light blue buttoned shirt and white tennis shorts, her hair is swept back into a tight ponytail. “Good morning.” She smiles, sliding the box of cereal my way and follows with a cup of black coffee just the way I like it. “You got home late last night. I’m guessing you crawled home considering the dark circles around your eyes?”

  I nod, lips pursed with my hands wrapped around the warm mug.

  “I see nothing much has changed with the three of you. Instead of staying out and sneaking in candy, you’ve swapped it for rounds of alcohol.”

  I nod again, choosing my words carefully. “Except, now we have a fourth member,” I say loosely.

  Mom’s eyes fall to her cup, and only now I notice she has dark circles too. They’re not as prominent as mine, but enough to notice she probably spent most of the night crying. I feel terrible for not being a better daughter and supporting her.