The Shameless Billionaire Series: Billionaire Romance Box Set (An Alpha-Male, Billionaire, Bad Boy, Bad Girl, Romance)

by Michelle Love

  “You mean because of who his father is?” I ask.

  “No, I mean because he has the chops, honey.” She places the other earring in and I wiggle my head to make the light capture them both. “Those songs he sings now, they’re not anything he’s written. Did you know that?”

  “Really? No, I didn’t. So whose big dick are those songs about?” I ask.

  Kyla answers, “Somebody named E.P. Fleming. Kip can write his own songs, he had one before he got into this rock group thing. You remember, he was on the U.K. version of that talent show that’s still popular. He went on using another name so no one would know who he really was.”

  “No, I didn’t know that and how do you know so much about him?” I ask as I stand up and turn around to see how I look from behind. I find the heels make my ass look terrific and it makes me smile.

  “I am an art major and I read about all kinds of art. By the way, how is that manuscript coming along? You haven’t let me read it in about a month. Don’t you want my help in the first editing of it?” she asks as she rummages through her closet to find herself something to wear to the concert and graduation.

  “I do, and I’ll get it to you this coming week. I have an interview with an agent at the end of June and I’ll want it as polished as I can get it, with your help, Kyla.” I say as I make my way out. I need to get to the table all of our committee is sitting at to make sure no one else takes it.

  One last look in the mirror and I find I’m looking pretty good, for me anyway. So away I go to listen to Mr. Pop Rock make some noise with his band. “See you at the concert, hurry up, I don’t want to sit alone very long.”

  “I will, save me a seat by you,” she says. I close the door and head out.

  I hope this doesn’t take too long!

  Kip

  The auditorium is a smaller venue than my band is used to playing. I’m watching from a door with a two way mirror as people file in and take seats in the stands. I have to choose a girl to sing to, and so far none have grabbed my attention.

  I signed autographs a while ago and no one caught my eye. The one I want to sing to will most likely not come to my show. She didn’t show up to get my autograph, and that tells me a lot right there. The thought of her makes my heart beat harder in my chest for some damn reason. I close my eyes and try to see her face again.

  A hand on my shoulder makes me open my eyes before I get a chance to conjure her image up, so I look back to see who’s messing up my day dream. Bobby stands behind me and points. “Look who’s here, mate?”

  My eyes follow his finger and land on Peyton as she sits at one of the V.I.P. tables in front of the stage. “Would you look at that,” I murmur.

  Her shoulder length blonde hair is curled and shiny. Diamonds sparkle on her earlobes and she has on a tight, red dress, that hugs her curves. Her light brown eyes with little green flecks sparkle almost as much as the earrings do. No make-up this morning when I first saw her, but now she wears some and the red on her full lips makes them look even more kissable.

  “Makes sense, she’s at the main table of the people who brought us here to raise money for that charity,” Bobby says. “Did Silas ever say which one it is?”

  My eyes never leave her as I answer, “It’s the one where kids with terminal diseases can make a wish for something and they make it come true. And she’s right there in the big middle of it. An angel she is, don’t you think?”

  Bobby smacks me on the back. “Come on, Kip!” he says. “You need to let Silas know who you want to sing to and you just found her.”

  Have I found her?

  I pace back and forth backstage as I’ve never experienced more nerves than I have right now. Peyton said she doesn’t like my music, yet she sits right up front where we’ll be able to look at each other. I can’t look at her as I sing about the things I know she thinks are crude.

  How will I avoid looking at her?

  The first three songs I have to sing are about me being a bad ass, something she commented on, and disliked. There’s nothing I can do about the set. The fourth song is the one I’m going to sing to her on stage. I’ve told the band to slow it down to make it more intimate. The words to the song are a bit sweet, much sweeter than anything else they let me sing.

  Please let her kiss me when the song ends!

  She’d be the first not to ask me to kiss her and that would be horrible. Surely she won’t leave me hanging like that on stage.

  God! What if she does?

  My stomach does flips as the band goes on stage and starts playing the first song. I swallow hard and put on my rock star attitude then walk onto the stage.

  Please let me get through this without freaking out!

  Peyton

  I’m at a table up front only because I’m part of the group which brought Kip Dixon to our college to raise money for my favorite charity. I’ll be graduating in a few hours with my Bachelor’s Degree in Liberal Arts, then off to my hometown an hour away where my parents are going to throw me a party.

  This night is going to be long, and I only have to make an appearance at this concert because of my association with the charity. Only a few songs will I stay for and I hope that arrogant fucker doesn’t attempt to look down here at me and make goo-goo eyes at me or I’ll leave even sooner than that.

  The band has slipped onto the stage in the complete darkness and the music begins. Everyone has shown up except Kyla, so at least I’m not alone at this table. The lights dim, and I find myself searching for the lead singer. I stop myself and shake my head to clear it.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Kyla touches my arm as she takes the chair next to mine, and says, “Who you lookin’ for, Peyton? Your boyfriend?”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “Stop being a pest, Kyla. I’m just wanting to get the first few songs over so I can leave.”

  She smiles at me, and watches me for my reaction as a spotlight flashes and the tall, muscled man with jet black hair, gelled into random spikes swaggers to the middle of the stage. I have to admit he’s a sight to behold, but I have to remember who and what he really is, a player, bad boy, rocker who cares for no one except himself.

  He’d make me a notch on his bedpost, but that’s all he’d make me.

  His voice seems pushed to the limit immediately as he belts out the first words of the song, and Kyla watches me closely. She leans in close to my ear and says, “Your eyes are twinkling, Peyton. He’s good, isn’t he?”

  “His leather pants fit like a glove,” I say. “They must be very uncomfortable.”

  Kyla shakes her head and smiles. “Yeah, that’s what you’re really thinking about when you look at his jeans.”

  Yeah, well, so what if I was thinking something else. I’ll never admit it out loud that I’m beginning to wonder if that bulge is real or not. I know the muscles in his legs have to be real and that six pack under his tight, white, T-shirt has to be real too. His crazy hot biceps are real that’s for sure!

  By the third song I have a new respect for the band as I can see just how talented the members really are, something which doesn’t come across on the radio versions of their songs. The idea that I might be wrong about him creeps into my head, not that it matters.

  I know I’m close enough for Kip to look down and see me, but he never bothers. It’s just as I thought, I was forgotten most likely before I even walked away. I think about something my father told me. Always trust your first instinct, it’s practically never wrong.

  So what if my first thought about Kip was that he was hot? My second one was that he’s a player, and that one has to be what matters the most.

  Someone tugs at my arm and I turn to find a short man with red hair. “Hi, Peyton,” he says, surprising me. “Could you come with me?”

  This must be something about the charity, so I allow him to lead me back stage. “What’s this about?” I ask.

  “Kip chose you,” he says.

  My eyebrows lift and my heart s
tops. “Excuse me?”

  “For the song he’s singing to a special young lady,” he says. “Surely you saw or heard about the song he’s going to sing to a girl for the charity. We decided it would help ticket sales, so added it to the set. Great idea, huh?”

  I nod as a pack of butterflies on steroids fill my stomach. “Do I have to do it?” I ask.

  The man smiles at me and says, “Aren’t you one of the people who put this whole thing together?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have to be a part of the entertainment. I’m not doing it for the publicity,” I say. “Just to get money to help the kids get their wishes.”

  I never thought this would happen!

  “Don’t know what to say, Kip said he’d only sing to you,” he says. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint our guests would you?”

  Would I? I mean, who cares if I disappoint the audience or not? Then I remember that I’m a bigger person than that and about the only female Kip can’t rattle. I wonder how he’ll act with a girl who isn’t all screamy and fainty as he sings to her. It might be kinda fun to watch him and see if he squirms a bit.

  I shake my head and look back as Kip struts around the stage. Heat fills my body, and I fear I might faint. I bite my lip, nervously as I wait for the song to end and my embarrassment to begin. A deep breath I take in to steady myself. It’s not Kip who’s making me so nervous, it’s the fact so many people are watching. Quietly I say to myself, “It’s for the kids, Peyton. Do it for them.”

  At least I look good. The bastard would pick me to do this, arrogant shit-head!

  After the song is over, the band plays softly as someone brings a chair on stage and Kip places a foot on it as he looks out at the audience. His leg is long and I can see his muscled inner thigh from here.

  He must work out a lot.

  “I haven’t done this in at least a year, but only for you, Texas State University,” he shouts then has to wait as the students scream for almost a full thirty seconds.

  I wonder if he did this just to get me back to him. This wasn’t planned before. Maybe I’m the one getting a big head. I’m sure it was planned, I’m not that special!

  He looks away from the crowd and towards me, seemingly searching for me as I hide behind the curtain. “As she is a big part of why we’re here this evening, I’m going to sing this next song to your very own, Peyton Reed.” The crowd goes wild as the red haired man pushes at me to go out to Kip who holds his arm out to me.

  As I’m pushed from behind the curtain our eyes meet, and I know I’m blushing as I walk out to him. I turn and wave at the audience then Kip envelopes me in his arms from behind. I look over my shoulder to find his face next to mine. “Hi,” he says in the microphone. “Remember me?”

  “Hello, and yes I do,” I say so quietly no one can hear me, apparently.

  “I need you to be a bit louder than that, gorgeous,” his words hit the microphone but fall warm on me ear, sending chills through my entire body.

  “Hello!” I shout, making the sound system squeal.

  Kip smiles and gives me a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to make you scream, baby.” The audience laughs and I turn a deeper shade of red. I’m sure my cheeks match my dress by now.

  The music begins to get louder, yet still flows gently. Kip lets me out of his arms and takes my hand, leading me to the chair. I sit down and he looks down at me and winks. The spotlight dims to that of a candle’s light and only the two of us can be seen by the audience I bet.

  His face, so full of make-up, comes close to mine, then he sings the first stance, “You know you want to.”

  No, I don’t!

  He looks into my eyes and I see flecks of brown in the deep blue of them. Another line he sings softly, “Girl it’s just me and you.”

  It’s so dark around us it seems as if we’re alone in the huge auditorium. “Close your eyes and I’ll make your dreams come true. Ask me to kiss you.”

  Oh, this song! Great, no girl has ever not asked him to kiss her by the end. The last one I saw on television was crying the whole damn time and even she asked him. Poor guy, she was all types of gooey I bet.

  A smile curls his shiny, black lips as he nods at me. I shake my head at him and smile. He moves to the other side of me as he trails his hand over my shoulders, leaving electric currents along them.

  Damn this guy is good, I have to admit. It’s no wonder he thinks he’s God’s gift to women everywhere.

  I turn to look at him as he leans in close, and sings, “My arms ache to hold you. Your eyes hold mine like glue. Come on girl, you know you want to.” He leans in closer to me, his lips nearly touching mine. “Ask me to kiss you.”

  Wow! His breath smells so good, like cinnamon. Crap! I hope mine doesn’t stink!

  Bringing my hand up between our too close faces, I place my finger on his lips, and shake my head again. He sighs and stands up then moves in front of me, as he drags his knuckles across my cheek, making my insides quiver, but I keep my emotions in check.

  My eyes follow him as he sings, “So what do you want to do? To yourself be true. I see the want in you. So just do it.” He leans in close again. “Come on, do it. Ask me to kiss you.”

  I think I’ll fuck with him a little bit, that sounds like fun!

  With a tilt of my head, I smile at him making him move in closer as he thinks I’m about to ask him, but I place my hands on his shoulders and shake my head again.

  He pulls back from me and walks away in what seems to be frustration, and sings, “Oh, baby, you don’t understand. All I want is to be your man. The rest of our lives by you I’ll stand.” He walks quickly back to me and falls on his knees in front of me. His free hand takes mine as he looks into my eyes. “Please, ask me to kiss you. I’m begging you, baby, ask me to kiss you before it’s too late. I can’t wait.”

  Just to mess with his head as I’m sure he’s messed with many a poor girl’s, I lean towards him and he smiles, sure he has what he’s asked for. “Ask me to kiss you,” he sings the last words of the song as he looks into my eyes.

  I wink at him and say too quietly for anyone else to hear, “No.”

  He drops his head on my lap as the spot light goes out.

  The crowd cheers and the applause sounds like thunder as Kip takes me by the hand and leads me off the stage in complete darkness. Instead of leading me to the door I came in, he leads me to his dressing room. Pulling me in, he turns and closes the door behind us, pushing his body up against mine as I walk backwards until the wall stops my retreat.

  His breath is hot on my face as he says, “Peyton, please let me kiss you.”

  Damn! I want to kiss him so bad, but I know what he wants, and that’s all he wants. I can’t do that to myself. But he seems so genuine, so real.

  My eyes search his for his real feelings, and I swallow hard. “Kip, I’m not like that,” I say in a whisper. “I’m no groupie.”

  He takes my hand and places it on his chest. His heart pounds beneath my hand. “You’ve made me feel more than I have ever felt.”

  Peyton, don’t fall for this! It’s how he gets all the women. He’s had so many women, girl! Don’t fall for this!

  I smile and pat his muscled chest. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t fall for lines,” I say. “Don’t worry you’ll find some girl this evening to trade bodily fluids with.”

  His forehead touches mine as he says, “I don’t want anyone else, Peyton.”

  Sure he doesn’t, until tomorrow, then he’ll want someone else and I’ll be left in some hotel, crying my eyes out.

  I stroke his cheek. “Your words won’t work on me, Mr. Pop Rock.”

  “I’m more than this,” he says as he plays with one of my curls. “Let me show you who I really am.”

  “Why?” I ask, genuinely confused.

  There’s not a damn thing special about me. I’m not tall like a model or adorably short, just an average five foot five. I’m not perfectly built as I have a rounded ass and some bi
g hips and don’t get me started on my boobs that are a little too big and make my waist look too small.

  My hair isn’t thick and luxurious, it’s kind of short and I’ve never dyed it, so it’s a light shade of dirty blonde. My face is average, light brown eyes and they’re a little too small as well. My nose is turned up and I hate it. My lips are too plump to suit me.

  “There’s something about you, Peyton.” His hand cups the back of my neck. “One kiss, just one, please.”

  If I give this player one kiss I know he’ll make me want him. I kind of already do, but I have a lot more integrity than he realizes. I’ve hung onto my V-card longer than most, and it hasn’t always been easy.

  Rock star Romeo won’t be my first that’s for damn sure.

  His perfectly almond shaped eyes glisten as he looks into mine, trying to read my mind I bet. His firm body holds mine to the wall and now I’m reasonably sure the bulge in his pants is quite real after all as it presses up against my hot and steadily getting wetter by the second personal pleasure area.

  If I allow this to go on any longer I’ll have a lot harder time telling him no. He leans forward and his lips brush my neck and my knees go weak. “One kiss,” he whispers in my ear and I want to give in so damn bad. My insides are begging me to give in and I suddenly have a new awareness of why all the women gave into him, he’s too damn hot!

  It takes everything I have in me, but I push him away, gently but firmly. “No, not one kiss. I’m sure you’re used to getting your way with women. I’ll not be one of those girls who make out with a pop star she’ll never hear from again.” I pull away from him and walk to the door, grabbing the knob, then turn back and say, “I tell you what, Mr. Dixon, if you really want to get to know me, for God only knows why, you can come to my graduation party later on tonight. I’ll give your manager my address. Feel free to bring your entourage, Pop Rock.”

  “I’ll be there,” he says then kisses his finger tips and waves at me. “Perhaps before the sun rises tomorrow you will decide to let me kiss you.”