Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance

by Hawk, Maya

  “I-I’m sorry.” I smile, a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “I thought the scrapbooks were cute. I found them in your old closet. I…”

  Nothing I can say will fix this moment.

  “I wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything…” My excuses rattle off my tongue one after another. “I don’t think you need to change. I-I just think…”

  “What?” He rises, and my heart falls. Titan turns, slamming his half-full coffee cup into a nearby trash bin. “You think I need to walk down some straight and narrow path again? So I can be good enough for you?”

  “No. Not at all.” I swallow a lump in my throat, and my cheeks flush as I feel the little old ladies at a nearby table watching us.

  “You don’t know me, Jordana. And you never fucking will.”

  With that, he’s gone.

  ***

  I’ve never been one to drink my sorrows away, but tonight I’m making an exception.

  I’m seated at the last stool on the left at a bar called Shooter’s in the newer part of town where the yuppies and recent college graduates hang out every weekend.

  This entire weekend has been a bust.

  I found out nothing at the fights. No leads. No suspicions confirmed. I tried chatting with some of the guys sitting around me but they seemed like a bunch of airheaded grunts who truly come to the fights because they’ve got nothing better to do on a Friday night.

  Besides, it’s not like anyone would tell me if they knew anything about a serial killer who beats up people outside of bars every once in a while.

  Titan was right. But at least I tried.

  And shit. Titan won’t speak to me. I thought we were having a lovely little chat over coffee and donuts and he went and took my comment out of context. I don’t think he should change. I just don’t think he should ignore the light parts of himself in favor of the dark.

  I take a swig of my appletini, kicking myself for stumbling over my words with Titan that morning. Had I been able to compose my thoughts a little better, I might be lying in his arms between rumpled sheets right now.

  “Hey, girl!” I swivel on my barstool, my best friend from high school, Naomi Rivera, coming at me with open arms and a smile wider than her made up face. “I’m so glad you called me tonight! I’d been wanting to hang out with you again ever since I heard you were back in town.”

  Naomi’s the kind of friend I can still have a good time with no matter how much time passes between visits. We always pick up right where we left off. I love her dearly, and she’s the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had.

  “How’s the internship going?” she asks, taking the seat next to me.

  “Good, good. How’s the jewelry store?”

  “Oh, you know.” She rolls her eyes, batting her hand where the glimmer of a diamond ring catches my eye. It’s on her right hand, a symbol that means she doesn’t need a man. She’s committed to herself and utterly and completely in love with herself.

  She and I both know better. If a man paid her any attention, she’d be at his feet in two seconds flat. I appreciate and admire her intentions though.

  “I still think it’s cool that you’re a manager at twenty-two,” I say.

  “It helps when your grandparents own the store.” She smiles, turning to the bartender to order a gin and tonic. Naomi turns back to me, placing her hand on my arm. “So, girl, how you been? How’s your Mama?”

  “She’s doing okay,” I say. “We’re all hanging in there. She’s dating a surgeon right now, so we’re living at a lake house on Blue Pond Road.”

  “Nice.”

  “They’re talking about getting married soon,” I say. “But I think they’re content to play house for a bit longer.”

  “You like him?”

  “He’s good for her. Mostly. Gives her a new sense of purpose I think.”

  “She still teaching?”

  “Yeah,” I laugh. “Somehow.”

  It’s a miracle Mama manages to pull herself together enough to teach at the college. She took a ten-month sabbatical after Jerome died, but her therapist thought it would be good for her to get back into the swing of things as soon as she was ready.

  I glance around the bar. More people are beginning to filter in. My gaze hones in on a guy in a khaki jacket and dark jeans standing by a high top table in the back of the space.

  “No fucking way.” I shove my drink.

  “What?” Naomi asks, attempting to follow my gaze.

  “Just someone I know from my internship.”

  I stare at Thad, who’s nursing a beer and chatting up a group of people our age. Out of all the bars and all the nights and all the odds, we end up at the same place at the same time. Standing behind him is another familiar face, though it takes a while for that smirky smile to register.

  It’s the guy from the fights last night – the one clinging onto Titan the entire time. I think Titan said his name was Kyle. Interesting that they travel in the same circle. Guess this town is smaller than I thought.

  I keep my back toward Thad. If luck is on my side tonight, he’ll scamper off to another bar and neglect to notice me here. I can only hope they’re bar-hopping tonight.

  “Those guys are kind of cute.” Naomi smirks, her hazel eyes flashing in the dark. “You know them, you said?”

  “Ugh.” My eyes roll back into my head. “Ignore them. Trust me.”

  “Oh, they’re harmless.” Naomi swats at me. “Maybe they’ll buy us a round?”

  Before I have a chance to protest, she hops off her stool and struts across the room to strike up a conversation with them.

  Mama always said bad things come in threes. This would be the third bad thing happening in my shitty weekend.

  I finish my drink quietly, all alone, and bide my time until the inevitable happens.

  “Look who it is.” A man’s voice jerks my attention a few moments later. I spin to see Kyle. He cleans up well, I’ll admit. A person would never know he operates an underground fighting ring in a seedy bar basement. “Your boyfriend know you’re out on the town tonight?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” God, I sound like a middle-schooler.

  “Ah, so you’re single.” He takes a mouthful of beer, his eyes dropping to my cleavage.

  “Don’t bother with this one.” Thad comes up from behind Kyle, his gaze punishing and locked with mine. “Pretty sure she’s not into men.”

  My jaw falls. “Seriously, Thad?”

  “Oh, she’s into dudes,” Kyle says. He speaks to Thad, but he looks at me. “She’s fucking a buddy of mine actually.”

  “Oh, yeah? That so?” Thad’s face morphs, subtly twisting like a territorial dog about to guard something he believes is his. “Who’s she fucking, cuz?”

  Ah, the two of them are cousins. I squint. I guess I could see it. They both have thin brown hair, long faces, mischievous blue eyes. Same lean build.

  “It’s none of your business, Thad.” I fire a response before Kyle has a chance to.

  “Name’s Titan,” Kyle answers with an evil leer. “Titan Blackstone. He’s a convicted felon too. Guess she likes ‘em bad. I’d say you’re not her type, Chief.”

  Thad’s face falls before transforming before my very eyes. His expression lightens. He’s happy. Too happy.

  “Titan Blackstone, you said?” Thad asks.

  I don’t answer.

  “I know him,” Thad says. “He’s on my caseload. Gabriela’s really. But he’s definitely on paper and definitely off-limits, Jordana.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat, but it comes right back. Thad’s blue eyes penetrate me. I’m not sure what he’s going to do with that information, but I don’t trust him.

  At all.

  I push past the guys and bump into Naomi on my way out. I give her a quick excuse about not feeling well and burst through the doors to hail a cab.

  A sick thickness swirls in my belly, as if all my secrets have just been exposed. Bad things are coming. I know it.

>   I feel it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY – TITAN

  “Saw your girl out Saturday night.” Kyle struts across the garage Monday morning wearing the kind of swagger in his step that tells me he probably got laid over the weekend.

  “She’s not my girl,” I say, grabbing a drill and getting to work.

  “Funny,” Kyle says. “That’s exactly what she said Saturday night.”

  My insides burn.

  The thought of Kyle touching Jordana…

  The thought of Jordana letting Kyle touch her…

  I blew up at her at the café last Saturday. I couldn’t help it. I’d been stewing all morning and it was only a matter of time before I boiled over. A man doesn’t exactly appreciate someone digging in their past, and I knew where she was going.

  I know I’m not good enough to be with her, but I don’t fucking need to be reminded. Everything she didn’t say was everything I already knew. The old me, that preppy jock, the one with his whole future ahead of him, is the kind of guy better suited for a girl like her.

  Not me.

  Not a convicted felon with a permanent chip on his shoulder and a vendetta against the world for ruining the good thing he had.

  “Don’t go acting like you got with Jordana,” I snap at Kyle. “I know her better than you. She’d never go home with your kind.”

  “Aren’t we the same kind?” Kyle says. “You and me?”

  “Hardly.”

  “That’s true, I guess. I ain’t never damn near killed a man before.”

  KJ passes between us, looking like he’s working when I know damn well he’s listening to our conversation.

  “Did you fuck her or not, Kyle?” My voice booms. I don’t have time for these bullshit fucking games, and I won’t spend the rest of my eight hour day with the mental image of Jordana’s perfect, fawn tits bouncing as she rides Kyle’s pencil dick.

  He laughs, as if he’s entertained by all of this. Kyle takes his sweet ass time before answering.

  “Nope,” he says, hanging his head. “Not yet anyway.”

  I drop my drill and walk up to him, getting in his face. His cheap cologne fills my lungs as I tower over him.

  “Don’t fucking go near her. You got that?” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Whoa, whoa. Guys.” KJ comes between us, his skinny fingers splayed across our chests. “Drop it. Let’s get to work. Not worth it.”

  I give Kyle one last warning in the shape of a pointed stare before returning to my bay. I won’t speak to him the rest of the day. He’s officially on my shit list.

  I need to get out of here. Find a new job. I can’t put up with this day after day. I need something more, something better. Lubes and filters and fighting isn’t what I want. It isn’t me.

  I’m two seconds from snapping.

  Kyle struts off, locking himself in his dad’s office where he likes to watch T.V. before his dad comes in.

  “Don’t worry about him,” KJ says. “He likes to think he’s got game, but we all know ain’t no women are trying to get with him.”

  “Your brother better watch himself,” I spit. “Not playing around.”

  “What, you going to hurt him?” KJ chuckles. “Get yourself sent back to prison over some stupid girl?”

  I shake my head. “Nah. Not trying to go back there.”

  “What would happen if you hurt someone?” KJ asks. His question is random, but then again, so is KJ. “Would you go back to prison?”

  “Yep. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t know how probation worked.”

  “It’s parole.”

  “See. I didn’t know there was a difference.” KJ scratches his ears that stick out a half inch too far. He reminds me of Dopey, the seventh dwarf. Scrappy. Scrawny. Skinny. Goofy. “What was it like on the inside?”

  “You don’t want to know, and I’m not particularly interested in reliving those times for you.” I step over an orange extension cord. “I suggest you watch a documentary if you’re that curious.”

  “Oh.” KJ hangs his head, and for a second I feel sorry for him.

  But I disengage from the conversation. I just want to put in my hours and clock out. I’m calling Jordana the second I get home. If I owe anyone an apology or an ounce of my undivided attention, it’s her.

  ***

  The knock on my door at eight that night sends a sharp zing across my chest and a pulse to my cock.

  She came.

  I wasn’t sure for a while.

  She tried to resist it, tried to make excuses.

  Then she finished the conversation with a non-committal response and hung up on me.

  I yank the door open, trying not to show my cards with a goofy-ass grin when I see her standing there trying to look mad at me.

  “Get your fine ass in here.” I pull her by the arm and back her against the wall, pressing my body against hers.

  Jordana’s dark eyes rise into mine and she bites the corner of her full bottom lip.

  “Sorry about Saturday,” I say.

  If I were her boyfriend, I’d have a dozen red roses waiting for her, but we’re not like that. We’re just a man and a woman, and I’m just trying to do the right thing since it’s the least I can do.

  “I didn’t mean it the way it came out,” she says, her voice barely whisper.

  I lean down, silencing her with a hard kiss.

  “Shh,” I say. “I didn’t invite you here to talk about it.”

  Her head tilts, and I taste her lips again.

  Spearmint and cherry lip balm.

  “Kyle bother you on Saturday?” I ask.

  She jerks away, as if she’s surprised I know. “Were you following me that night?”

  “Of course not,” I say. “Kyle walked in proud as a fucking peacock this morning, acting like he had you Saturday night.”

  Her jaw falls. “He did not have me Saturday night.”

  “Good,” I growl, stealing another kiss as my hands make themselves at home beneath the lace cups of her bra. Her tits fill my palms, sending a quick hardening to my throbbing cock. “Because you’re all fucking mine, Jordana…”

  My hands rake down her sides, then her hips, before dragging around to the back and cupping her cherry ass. I lift her thighs around me, carrying her to my bed and dropping her in the middle.

  She smiles, her dark hair splaying behind her. I unbuckle my belt as she unzips her jeans. It’s mechanical, automatic. Fucking is so much more efficient when romance doesn’t get in the way.

  I climb on top of her, spreading her legs wide as they’ll go and positioning the head of my cock at her tight pussy. One thrust and I’m in. One thrust and she’s mine all over again. She wriggles her hips as I find my rhythm, and we settle in together, losing ourselves in whatever the fuck this is we’re doing.

  Her fingers drag across my flesh as I plunge deeper inside her, and the second our eyes meet, I find it difficult to fight the warm sensation creeping into the center of my chest.

  This isn’t love.

  I’m not capable of loving.

  But maybe…

  Maybe it could be something.

  My thoughts scatter in all different directions, but my cock pleads for silence. I need to enjoy the physicality of this and not get caught up in the psychobabble bullshit aspect.

  I can’t attach meaning to this.

  I…just can’t.

  We fuck like rabbits the rest of the night, and I fill my head with visions of her bouncing tits and revel in the way her tight, wet pussy feels sliding up and down the length of my cock. Her sweet moans fill the small space around us, and by the time we’re done, we melt into the messy bed as our sweaty bodies evaporate into the cool night air.

  A moment later, Jordana rolls to her side, away from me. She’s never done that before.

  “What’s wrong?” My voice sounds annoyed. It kind of is. Leave it to a goddamn woman to ruin a sexy high by being all closed off for no good reason.

 
“Nothing.”

  I roll my eyes. It’s probably a good thing she can’t see me.

  “I know damn well when a woman says that, she doesn’t mean it.” I roll closer to her, running my hand along her bare arm.

  I hear her sniffle, and a second later she dabs at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.

  “You’re crying?” I ask, sinking back into the pillow.

  She says nothing, and I reach for her, rolling her into my arms though she’s stiff as a board.

  “Talk to me,” I say.

  Her eyes slowly drift into mine. “I don’t know why I’m crying right now.”

  “Yes you do.”

  She shakes her head.

  “You just don’t want to say it,” I add.

  She lifts a shoulder beneath my palm and draws in a long breath. “I don’t know, Titan. I guess I just really enjoy being with you. And I get the feeling that what I want and what you want are two different things. And…and…”

  “And what, Jordana?”

  “We can’t keep doing this.”

  My heart squeezes. Hard. Harder than I ever thought it would.

  “And why not?” I ask. “It’s just sex. Thought we agreed not to make it all complicated.”

  She pulls in another ragged breath. “Saturday night, when I was out and I ran into Kyle, he was with his cousin, Thad. I intern with Thad at the probation parole office.”

  “Okay, so…?”

  “Kyle told Thad I was sleeping with a convict,” she says. “And he mentioned your name. Thad said you were one of Gabriela’s clients.”

  “Oh. Fuck.” It all makes sense. I met with my parole officer, Gabriela Mercado, all of one time so far. Some tawny-haired douchebag outfitted in head to toe Lands End sat in with her. Never did catch his name.

  “Yeah,” she says. “So…”

  “He’s not going to rat you out, is he?”

  She nods. “He can if he wants to.”

  “What reason would he have?”

  Her eyes fall to my chest, like she doesn’t want to answer.

  “Jordana, does he have something on you?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “He’s upset that I wouldn’t go on a date with him.”