Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

by Kat T. Masen

  My eyes open slowly—strained. Wesley is sitting on the armchair near the window. I pull myself up, rubbing my tired eyes. The same time it all comes back to me—the restaurant, Wesley and Liam’s arguing, the breakup afterward.

  “What are you doing here?” I croak.

  “I think we need to talk,” he growls, abandoning the chair and standing over me beside the bed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I leave for two minutes, and you’re here with another guy who happens to be your boyfriend?” His anger morphs into a jealous rage, his fist meeting the wall with a ferocious punch.

  I leap off the bed, shocked at his sudden outburst. A minute ago, he was staring at me, calm and eerily silent. Now I have a dent in the wall that my landlord will crucify me over.

  “What did you do that for?” My high-pitched voice does nothing to hide my panic. “Do you know how much that will cost me? Of course not, you have no concept of what it’s like to have nothing and work hard for every cent you own.”

  “To let out my frustration,” he shouts again, pacing the room back and forth. “You never said you were in a relationship.”

  “I said it was complicated.”

  A laugh escapes him—delirious and unwelcoming. He stops the manic pace, positioning himself in front of me with an overpowering stance.

  “This is the problem. You don’t open up about you.” He points his finger into my chest, eyes blazing. “You can say all you want about your complications, but you don’t tell me why or who. I mean, for fuck’s sake, do you have some lovechild back home? Are you part of a traveling circus act? Who the fuck knows!”

  Now it’s my turn to pace, a reaction from the pile of questions he’s just thrown at me. This isn’t how I envisioned this night going. I should be mourning the loss of a man who has been my steady rock the past few years, not fighting a battle with this crazed lunatic.

  “I left home because my mama forced us. She has advancing Alzheimer’s, and so we can keep our house and afford her care, I had to move somewhere where we can earn more money. I lost my job back home. There’s nothing else for me to do. She’s staying in a care facility.” My voice fades, leaving it at that until I realize he’s followed me to the window where I unthinkingly gravitate to.

  “Liam and I have been in a relationship for years. When I left, I promised him that we would just be. I didn’t commit to anything more than that.”

  “So, you’re still together?”

  “No, I mean yes. I said it was complicated…” My head begins to hurt, a migraine imminent from the stress of today. Shutting my eyes tight, I wish the pain away, opening them moments later with the same pain in the back of my eyes and circulating my head.

  “Did you fuck him?”

  “When?”

  “Now, today, whatever!” His eyes continue to haunt me, this jealous beast who is trapping me in the corner of my room.

  “No, he wanted to, but I…”

  The warmth of his hands suddenly grips my face, lips pressed firmly against mine as he pins my body against the window. The glass is warm, the heat coming through from outside. His tongue rolls against mine, hard and with force, sending a stream of sensations to every part of my body and making me ache everywhere for him.

  It’s just a kiss.

  How does he do this?

  Wesley pulls away, only just, keeping his lips extremely close so I can feel his breath against my skin. I want to tell him to go away, we probably shouldn’t be doing this, but this newfound lust that I have guiding me makes it difficult to think about anything besides his lips.

  “I come home, and you’re here with another man, who says he’s your boyfriend. You can expect I will go wild.”

  “But he’s not my boyfriend…” I finally admit it. Liam said goodbye, and I let him walk away. I can sugarcoat this in my mind as much as I want to ease the guilt, but the reality is crueler. There is no escaping it no matter how much I try.

  “I know… because I am.”

  My face pulls away from him, confused. “You are?”

  “Why do you sound surprised?”

  “Because don’t you ask these things? You can’t assume you’re in a relationship.”

  “Maybe, in high school. My thoughts are crazy when I’m around you. And when I’m not around you, they’re wild. I fucking missed this smart mouth of yours when I was gone. So, if that isn’t enough to be your boyfriend, then maybe this is…” He gets down on his knees, his hands wrapping around my legs, eyes wide staring up at me with a sexy grin. “I want you.” With a slow burn, his hands wander up and down against the back of my thighs, causing my legs to shake with pleasure.

  “What if I say no?”

  He kisses my thigh, the moan escaping my mouth as his lips linger against my heated skin. “I’d say we’d have to find a way to cure that mouth of yours, and I’m sure I could find something to stick inside.”

  “Okay, fine. Since you’re practically begging me.” I roll my eyes, hiding my elation at this over-the-top cutesy conversation where the baddest boy in town just asked me to be his girlfriend.

  It is stupid, ridiculous, yet, I don’t care. If there’s anything that Wesley has done right, it’s make me forget. When he’s this close to me, it is all about him.

  Wesley Rich in the spotlight.

  He continues to slide his hands up my thighs, positioning them, so he’s firmly cupping my ass. Slowly, he eases his way to a standing position, his body pressing against mine.

  “I don’t beg. You will have said yes.”

  “Oh please, cue the bad-boy talk.”

  He tilts his head in amusement, displaying a wide grin and teasing me by biting his lower lip. I’m drawn to the way his teeth gnaw on the corner of his mouth, much like an animal ready to pounce on his mouthwatering prey. His grip around my ass tightens until his hands slide lower and around the front. His long fingers brush against my panties, causing me to suck in my breath as the sensation begins a rippling effect of pleasure.

  “Like I said…” His head is buried into my neck, his warm breath against my skin. “You will have said yes.”

  I clutch his hair in my hands, desperate for him to continue and disappointed when he distances himself. My panting is uncontrollable, yet I raise my brows, silently questioning why he pulled away.

  “But not here.”

  “When?” I blurt out, desperate and forthcoming.

  “I want you to come with me to an event tomorrow night. It’s a fundraiser at my mother’s house.”

  “Your mother?” I step back, curious as to why he wants to go and with me of all people. According to the Internet, they don’t have a relationship. “I didn’t think you guys spoke?”

  “We do, sort of. This is for charity. So, I would like to go. Will you be my date as my girlfriend?”

  The cute, adorable, wants-to-raise-money-for-charity Wesley, is a side of him I haven’t seen. I’m still in awe. This guy in front of me wants to be with me, no other reason, just because he wants me. This fantasy world that my brain has created for itself bursts from the reality of the world around us, the people around us.

  “But what if someone tells Emerson about us?”

  “So let them.”

  “I can’t jeopardize my job,” I tell him firmly, backing away. “I’ll go, on one condition.”

  Wesley stills his demeanor, looking slightly agitated that I have mentioned Emerson.

  “No photos of us, together. I will go as a different name. I don’t want this leaking out. I have my mom to think of and Flynn. You need to understand, please.”

  His arms are folded, and any minute now, I’m expecting Mr. Rage to let me have it.

  He surprises me with a bemused smile. “Any name, huh? Like… Ivana Cumalot?”

  I’m unable to hold my laughter, clutching my stomach while I encourage this childish behavior. “Helda Dick.”

  “Anita Cox.”

  We both laugh until we slow down enough to catch our breath.<
br />
  “How fancy are we talking?”

  “Don’t worry, I got you covered.”

  “It’s fine.” I turn away, pretending not to care but knowing full well I will be judged. “I can go buy a dress.”

  I’m mentally thinking about my bank account, about the check due to Mom’s facility tomorrow and my rent due next week. I have received a few paychecks since I started and managed to put away some money for a rainy day. I’m not sure if this constitutes a rainy day.

  “Would you please let me cover this? Besides, I know most of the owners on Rodeo Drive.”

  “Rodeo Drive? That’s not me.”

  He throws his hands into the air with frustration. “Look, I know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear. Just go pick anything. They owe me. In fact, I’ll send you to a shop that owes me big time. I wear their shit all the time, and that’s how they get their sales. Stop frowning and just do it.”

  Flynn’s voice echoes through the apartment, calling my name.

  “I need to go. Tomorrow?”

  “Wait, you don’t have to go. Can’t you stay?”

  I want to ease my concerns. Put to bed everything I have read about him and start our newly formed relationship on a fresh slate. But he’s fidgeting and desperate to leave. It’s not worth the argument.

  “Tomorrow.”

  Wesley kisses my lips one more time before leaving the room. He stops outside, chatting to Flynn before the main door closes shut.

  Flynn steps inside my room. “I didn’t know you were friends with Wesley.”

  I sit on the bed, tying my shoes. “You don’t talk to me. Anyway, it’s a bit more than that.”

  “You’re banging him?”

  “No!” I grab my cell and purse. “Why does everyone assume I’m some whore who just sleeps around?”

  “Calm the fuck down. I like Wesley. He gets this crowd. Liam left?”

  I fall backward onto the bed, allowing the tears to fall. “I hurt him. I didn’t mean to. Everything is so different. He says I’ve changed. I’ve become one of them.”

  Flynn sits beside me smelling of stale beer. “C’mon, it’s hard. They just don’t get it. He’ll move on. You guys just weren’t on the same page despite what I said earlier. Sorry, Mills.”

  My brother giving me relationship advice is odd. When did he turn into this mature man? Back home, he was the boy who sulked in his room while playing emo beats on his drum.

  “You think?”

  “Wesley will be good for you. The thrill-seeker to bring you out of your shell.”

  “I’m not in a shell. I’ve already lived that crazy life. You were too young to remember. I’m happy this way.” I don’t sound very convincing, and if anyone can see through me, it’s my baby brother.

  He laughs, slapping my knee. “You’re one step away from joining a pottery class.”

  “You know, pottery students around the world will take offense to that. Wesley is different. He invited me to some event. I have to go buy a dress. I really don’t want to buy anything, I have to send some money to Mom.”

  Flynn leaves the room, coming back moments later. “Here.” There are a few hundred-dollar notes in the palm of his hand.

  I sit up, cautiously eyeing the pile of money. “Where did you get this from?”

  “Gigs.”

  “I can’t take this.” I push his hand back toward him.

  “You can. It’s the least I can do for being a pain in the ass.”

  “Okay.” I take the money with a thankful smile. “But just promise you’re not doing anything illegal.”

  He places his hand on my head, purposely messing my hair, much to my annoyance. With the pillow by my side, I grab it and whack him with it, just like old times.

  “I promise.” He winks, before walking away and singing the lyrics to Gold Digger, just to rile me up.

  ***

  Three in the morning is by far the deadliest time of the day. My thoughts make this loop of chaos as I lay wide awake thinking about yesterday’s events.

  I’m in a relationship with Wesley Rich.

  That moment of elation is gone, and panic slowly seeps in.

  I have so many unanswered questions.

  This isn’t going to be a standard run-of-the-mill relationship. Wesley is a Hollywood superstar. Paparazzi follow his every move, which means sooner or later, I will be their target.

  He also has baggage—a ton of it.

  I have Mama and Flynn to think of.

  Then there’s Emerson.

  Without further thought, I grab my cell and send him a text.

  Me: I don’t think I can be your girlfriend. I’ve thought about it, it just won’t work.

  I don’t expect to receive a response at this hour, but the bubble lingering on the screen alerts me to the fact he’s awake too. A huge part of me wishes he isn’t. If I’ve learned anything about Wesley, he’s a determined man, and he doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants.

  Wesley: Damn, I already tattooed your name on my chest.

  Me: Please tell me you’re joking.

  Wesley: Why the cold feet?

  Me: I think we’ll be complicated.

  Wesley: By ‘we’ you mean me?

  Me: No. I’m just not ready for another relationship, and the media will follow me and I don’t want that.

  Wesley: So you’re giving up, already?

  Every part of me wants to say yes, goodbye, Wesley. Walk away, carry on, and go back to just being me.

  But there’s something underlying, some unknown feeling that comes in waves and consumes me to the point I know I’m not thinking straight but have zero power over whatever it is.

  Me: Okay, listen, we just need rules in place. You know, like can we make a list so there’s no miscommunication between us.

  Wesley: I’m listening…

  Me: Firstly, no one can know about me. I don’t want Emerson finding out.

  Wesley: What else?

  Me: My number one priority is making sure I can provide for my mother. My family is everything to me.

  Wesley: Is that it?

  Me: And we need to be honest with each other. No lying, no hiding stuff. I don’t have time for bullshit.

  Wesley: Okay, I can abide by your rules. Now can I list mine?

  Me: I’m listening…

  Wesley: I don’t want you talking to Liam. If you’re with me, you don’t need to be chums with your ex.

  I’m naïve to think his rules wouldn’t include Liam. Letting out a sigh, I shuffle and lay on my side, staring out the window while thinking about Liam. I hurt him, no doubt, and there will be no chance he’ll talk to me any time soon. By the time he gets over this, me, we can be friends. By then, hopefully, Wesley won’t care anymore.

  Me: What else?

  Wesley: That’s it. I’m not going to be the second man in your life. Been there, done that. If you’re going to be with me, it’s only me.

  Me: Fine, are we done?

  Wesley: Yes… better now?

  Me: Goodnight.

  Wesley: Goodnight… girlfriend.

  I place my cell on the nightstand then pull the sheet over me.

  Wesley Rich—my boyfriend.

  The whole idea seems outrageous.

  Yet, that wave, full in its glory, washes over me and just like that, my entire body aches for him.

  I only want him.

  And that thought alone terrifies and excites me.

  There will be no turning back.

  I am his.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The house is located on a quiet street in Bel Air.

  I’ve never seen a house this huge, sprawling across several acres, appearing like a luxurious castle rather than a home. On the ride over, Wesley speaks briefly about his mother, married to husband number six, a man who invented some digital device that’s used on planes, hence the wealth. If I think Emerson’s home is big, this is on another level.

  The community is gated, and even after w
e pass the security check, there is another large wrought-iron gate that has two men manning the entrance. Wesley is fidgeting, pulling out a cigarette in the car. I’m not fond of his smoking, and my girlfriend duties may not include nagging. I decide, for now, I will keep my mouth shut.

  My focus is on my dress. I’m extremely uncomfortable. There is way too much boob showing. The black bodice is low-cut, draping down my chest and matches with a sheer skirt. The lady in the store said it accentuated my wide hips. It isn’t the most awful comment she made after I got the Julia Roberts’ treatment à la Pretty Woman.

  “Did I tell you how sexy you look tonight?” He leans into me, running his tongue down the middle of my exposed chest. “You taste just as nice.”

  I want him inside of me. I’ve never felt this sexual attraction to a man who makes me so irrational.

  Do people have sex in cars with drivers just doing their own things? God, how I want to answer my own question.

  My lips make their way to his, and with the click of my seat belt, I remove it and straddle him. I grind myself against his crotch, watching that devilish smile playing on his lips. Our kisses become deep, my desperate moans escaping into his mouth as our bodies heat up.

  “You need to stop, or we’ll never get out of this car.”

  “So what?” I clasp his face, bringing it close to me so I can taste him again. I hate the smell of cigarettes. I want to tell him that. And despite my disgust for nicotine, I’m becoming addicted to the taste of him.

  I clear my thoughts, though with much difficulty, and then, a slap of reality knocks me fierce. “It’s too much. It’s not me.”

  I climb off him, laying against the seat and taking a deep breath. He pulls me back onto him, a slight struggle as my dress tangles on the heel of my stiletto. His stare—deep and with intention—only makes me more self-conscious.

  I’m not like any of the Hollywood women. I pluck my eyebrows and never professionally wax anything. I think life can be solved with a razor and tweezers. Once, Phoebe made me go to a beauty salon so she could get false eyelashes for prom. I remember sitting there, flabbergasted. The lengths that women go through to beautify themselves. Mama once told me that women would kill to have my lashes.