British Bachelor: A Hero Club Novel

by K. K. Allen

  “Perhaps I’m just jealous the chump got closer than I have.”

  Chills whooshed over my body at his words. I tilted my mouth to his ear. “He’s not here right now, is he?” I swallowed, shocked by my burst of confidence. “It’s all about your perspective.”

  I pulled back slowly, almost expecting to see Liam wearing a shocked and appalled expression, but that wasn’t what I found at all. His gaze slipped to my lips then locked on my eyes with an expression so intense it completely stole my breath. “I think my perspective is pretty perfect, actually.”

  My whole body seemed to come alive in that moment. We were so close, and I wanted nothing more than to lean in and close the gap between us.

  “Can I get you two anything else?”

  The voice of our server was like a splash of cold water. We pulled apart, my heart still speeding in my chest, then we let out simultaneous laughs.

  “I think we’re good,” I told the man with a smile.

  “Are you sure?” Liam asked, finishing the rest of his wine.

  I nodded and reached for my wallet. “I want to show you one last thing before we head back.”

  He touched my hand that had grabbed my wallet and shook his head. “I’ve got this.” Before I could argue, he was handing cash to our server and helping me up. “Lead the way, love.”

  From there, it was a short distance back to the riverwalk, where we made our way to one of the arched bridges. The air smelled of a campfire, and smoke swirled about the air, all while an eclectic soundtrack played over the crackling of wood and the chatter of the crowd. It was completely dark out, save for the firelight on the water, which had stolen Liam’s attention.

  “What is this?”

  I smiled and pulled him to an open spot at the balcony. “WaterFire. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Liam nodded, completely transfixed, staring out at the water where a riverboat that carried passengers passed one of the fire pits in the middle of the river. The fire had already been lit, and a man in the boat leaned over the fire to add wood to it.

  “How many fires do you think there are?” His gaze traveled down the river to each of the fire pits.

  “I think I read somewhere that there are over one hundred.”

  “This is incredible.”

  I nodded. Living in Providence, I could easily take this stuff for granted and forget it was there. “I guess you’d call it a spiritual communal ritual. It was created in the midnineties as a symbol of Providence’s renaissance.” I didn’t pretend to know more than what I’d heard over the years, and Liam didn’t question the art of it all. He simply leaned into the night show and watched as the soundtrack changed and more boats traveled by.

  The crowds thickened, packing in around us, and Liam gave up his spot at the balcony for a family and stood behind me. Somehow, above all the senses that WaterFire captured, all I could see, hear, smell, or feel was Liam. He wrapped his arms around my middle and pressed his lips to my cheek, causing me to smile and sneak a peek at him over my shoulder.

  He wore that intense gaze again. The one that, back at the café, told me we were on the verge of kissing. But this time, when I started to close the distance, he closed it first.

  13

  Liam

  She tasted like campfire and wine—smoky, hot, and completely capable of making me drunk after one taste.

  I grazed her bottom lip with my teeth, my head spinning with visions of Chelsea wrapping those same lips around other parts of me, especially the part of me that was twitching below my belt. It was no longer possible to be cautious with my thoughts or hands or mouth—to save her any more than I ought to save myself from a fling that could only end in disaster. All I wanted was this moment and the next, all with her, all of her. What would happen in two weeks or a month didn’t matter. What she still didn’t know about me could wait. Nothing mattered except for this kiss that sparked the air like the flames that licked the river water below us.

  With my hands on her waist, I spun her body to face me, then I palmed the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into a kiss that I never wanted to end. She clung to me, her fingers gripping my sides like she needed the leverage to keep herself upright. When her tongue darted out, slipping between my lips and touching mine, I groaned and grew harder between her legs.

  I pulled away, sucking in a breath and searching her eyes. They were glazed over, her mouth parted, and even under the night sky, I could see pink staining her cheeks. She was glowing, beautiful, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand in that park another minute without ripping off her clothes.

  “Want to get out of here?”

  She nodded quickly, and I smiled before pulling her from the balcony to the riverwalk, where we rushed back to the car. Once we were inside, I leaned over the console, stealing another kiss as she tried to start her car. I placed my hand between her thighs and squeezed her bare leg, growling when I realized it would be at least another ten minutes before I could take off every scrap of fabric that kept us apart.

  She let out a light laugh, this time successfully starting the car. I threw myself back into my seat, groaning at the erection still fighting my pants.

  When we got on the road, I calmed down a little, enough to switch on the music to distract me from the sexy woman behind the wheel. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so turned on, so desperate to get a woman naked. On British Bachelor, I’d made out with plenty of the women, nearly all of them, in fact. But I’d only gotten close to sleeping with two of them. In the end, I’d slept with none of them, something the viewers would never in a million years believe.

  Every single viewer who commented on my social media accounts before I shut them down had something to say about “guys like me” who just went on the show to “get Insta-famous” and “rich.” None of those comments applied to me, but no one would look deep enough to know the truth. Instead, the women from the show had become victimized heroes who should have won medals for putting up with a scam artist like me. And that just touched the surface of how I had been labeled after the final taping aired.

  Before the show, I’d slept with women, but I couldn’t remember it ever feeling like this.

  Chelsea parked her car in front of the garage beside the entrance to the pool house then turned to me. “This is crazy, right? We’ve known each other for four days.”

  I reached out to take her hand, reveling at how small and dainty it was in mine. “You’re overthinking it. Let’s go inside, pour some wine, put on some music.” The corner of my mouth tipped up in a smile. “And then…” I leaned over, brushing my lips against hers. “I’ll let you touch my giant willy.”

  The sound of her laughter made me smile. This was how it should be—natural, easy, completely right.

  “It’s no joke, love. Just think, you’ll have something to talk to Gwen about the next time you stop by the tearoom.”

  She laughed again, swatting me with her hand. I caught it and dragged it down my chest and onto the fabric of my trousers. As I stared deeply into her wide silver-moon eyes, I cupped her hand around the subject in question. While the size of any man’s willy, big or small, was in the eye of the beholder, I was confident enough to know Chelsea wouldn’t be disappointed. When her small hand squeezed, I kissed her firmly and breathed her in.

  “Come with me,” I whispered when I finally pulled away.

  I made the first move to exit the car and took her hand when she approached. We passed through the main gate then through the pool gate and went straight to her pool house.

  After entering, I shut the door and locked it behind me before leaning against it and letting out a breath. “C’mere.”

  Chelsea stepped up to me, the top of her head just reaching the top of my chest. I tilted her chin up, gripped her waist, and pulled her flush to my body. Slipping a hand beneath her blouse, I ran a finger against her silky-smooth skin, growing harder at the touch.

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  Her
quiet words made me freeze because I didn’t understand what she meant. “Done what, love?”

  Her breath shook as she exhaled. “I mean, I’ve only slept with guys who I’ve dated—not strangers. I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

  I shook my head, her words rattling me more than I knew they should. “We haven’t known each other long, but I’m certainly not a stranger. And who said anything about this being a one-night stand? I’m happy to fuck you for as many days and nights as you wish.”

  My comment brought a smile to her lips, but it faded as her gaze filled with doubt.

  “Chelsea.” I tipped her chin up again. “I’d very much like to take you to bed but only if you want me to.”

  “I do.”

  Her quick answer gave me a burst of confidence, and I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Well, then—”

  “I just don’t want to find out you’re a psycho or anything.” She blushed at her comment then shook her head like she was embarrassed. “I mean, I know you’re not a psycho. But you haven’t even told me why you left London so abruptly. Was it a girl? An ex? Is she a psycho?” Her eyes widened as if she’d just hit the jackpot. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

  I laughed at the sudden random fire. “I’m not married, and there are no psychos on the loose. That I know of.”

  “Then what is it, Liam? What aren’t you telling me?” She searched my eyes like she was desperately trying to find something wrong with the situation.

  The more she questioned it, the more I did too. I didn’t want to risk something good ending, all because of the show and the media’s twisted truths.

  “Why are you staying at the Hogues’ when they aren’t even here?”

  I tried my hardest to let her questions roll off my back, to keep things light and playful, but the truth was each question was just another brick in the wall being built between us. Her concerns were fair, but the fact that she was having any was the exact reason I needed to end whatever infatuation existed between us before things got too heavy. Chelsea had a life in Providence. My life, while messy and complicated and very public, was back in London. She deserved better than to get dragged into the mud of my life, especially when she was just getting started figuring out her own.

  When I didn’t answer her after a few moments, she took a step back and sighed. “Tonight was a mistake.”

  Her words stung more than anything a bunch of reality-television fans could ever say, but I also knew my place in this mess. I couldn’t answer her questions. Therefore, I knew I deserved whatever punches she threw at me. “Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Maybe you’re right.”

  I thought I saw her bottom lip quiver, but it was over so fast I might have imagined it. She gestured to the door at my back and raised her brows. “You should probably go.”

  I swallowed, taking a moment to sort through my thoughts. I had to find a better way to handle the situation, but I didn’t have time to think it through. Instead, I stood upright, turned, and left through the same door I’d entered from with Chelsea. This time, she slammed the door behind me.

  14

  Chelsea

  Yesterday was the most productive writing day of my entire week. I locked myself in my house, turned on some ambient noise, and typed like I was trying to save my life. Not a single distraction came between me and my writing. Every so often, Liam would sneak into my mind, and I would shove him right back out, replacing him with the character version of him in my book.

  I finally left my house the next day to get some fresh air and exercise, entering Spill the Tea a little past nine in the morning. My dad wiped down a table near the entrance while my mom stood near the front counter switching on the televisions.

  “Hey, Dad.” I greeted him with a hug.

  He was a stout man, a former pro wrestler, who made up for his height with his build, and he gave the best hugs ever. My entire body warmed from his embrace, and I let out a smile when we parted.

  “Hey, Bug.” My dad had nicknamed me Bug when I was a curious little girl who was always digging around in our backyard, collecting insects, chasing fireflies, and searching for worms. “How’s your week off?”

  I shrugged, taking a seat at the table he was cleaning. “Not as relaxing as I thought it would be. It’s funny, but I was almost more productive when I was trying to juggle my time between nannying and school.” I left out the writing part and immediately felt a pit in my stomach for what I’d been keeping from my parents. “Dad—” I started, but we were interrupted by my mom, who came up to join us.

  “Hey, sweetie. What brings you by so early?”

  I looked between them, knowing I had a reason for my impromptu visit that my subconscious was clearly responsible for. “I need to talk to you two about something.”

  My mom registered my serious tone and sat beside my dad, a worried look on her face. “Is everything okay?”

  I nodded. “Better than okay, actually. I just—well, this is hard because I know how much you two have supported my education and have encouraged me to get my doctorate, and I’m so grateful for all of it. But business school just isn’t for me.” I darted a glance between them. “I quit my internship two months ago, and I dropped out of college.”

  “You what?” my mom shrieked.

  My dad rested a hand on her leg and leaned toward me. “Chelsea, that’s quite the news. What on earth were you thinking?”

  I sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I was thinking that I was spending all this time putting hours into a career that I knew I wouldn’t enjoy. I want to write books. I want to spend my days exploring all the stories that have been building inside me.”

  “Honey,” my mom admonished. “You’re almost thirty years old. You know we’ve been patient with your pacing in school, but to just quit and throw away years and years of college? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you couldn’t have completed your master’s program. You were so close.”

  I’d anticipated this reaction, but that didn’t make the conversation easier. “I will finish school one day. I promise those credits won’t go to waste. But a master’s in business is the wrong direction for me. While I figure out the right direction, I want to nanny, and I want to write.”

  “I think that’s fair.”

  My head snapped in my dad’s direction. “What?”

  He shrugged, focusing on me and ignoring the panicked glare from my mom. “I think it’s your life, Chelsea, and we will always support you in whatever you choose. Perhaps we pressured you into choosing a field that didn’t suit you, and for that I’m sorry. I think you should give this writing thing a shot.”

  My mom did a double take between us. “Jeffrey, you cannot be serious right now.”

  He sighed and leaned over to take my hand in his. “Can we make a deal?”

  I nodded, slightly hesitant since I didn’t know what terms he was about to propose, but his reaction was more than I’d hoped for already. I would try to meet him somewhere in the middle.

  “At some point in the next five years, you’ll go back to school for whatever it is you want to pursue, and you’ll finish your doctorate. It would be such a waste if you let all that time go.”

  I nodded, unable to hold back my giant grin. “You have my word that I’ll go back. Perhaps for creative writing or a literature degree. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you two sooner.” This time I focused on my mom, who still seemed to be managing her shock. “I want you to be proud of me, but I also need to be happy and proud of myself. I needed to take this leap.”

  Just then, the sound of a familiar voice caught my attention. My pulse spiked, and my heart crashed like cymbals in my chest as I turned to search for Liam. His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere in the tearoom. I hadn’t seen him enter, but I knew without a doubt that it was him I was hearing. It was the same voice that had haunted my sleep, the voice that had crushed me when he’d agreed with me that our kiss had been a mistake.

  After a fu
ll sweep of the room, I confirmed that no one had entered. Then my eyes caught on the image playing on one of the small televisions in the corner of the room, and every bone in my body chilled.

  A man who very clearly looked like the Hogues’ houseguest escorted a woman into a fancy restaurant. At least that was how it appeared. She was drop-dead gorgeous, blond, and wearing a stunning yellow evening gown. It was as if their outfits were planned. He wore a dark-blue suit with a yellow tie that matched her dress, and his natural curls were perfectly styled instead of the devilish mess I was so used to seeing.

  The woman had long blond hair that was tied up in a loose, elegant braid. Her light-green eyes practically swallowed the camera whole on her next close-up. Everything about her was perfect, every damn thing. Liam leaned in for a kiss.

  I squinted because, for a second, I really did think I was losing my mind. The Liam look-alike on television appeared to match Liam’s physical traits to a T, but his style was all wrong and didn’t belong to the Liam I knew at all.

  Suddenly, everything was starting to make sense—Liam’s secrets, the way he’d backed off last night when I’d asked too many questions. He didn’t want me to know something about this show. But why?

  Like a train wreck waiting to happen, I watched the Liam on TV smile at the blond woman in the sparkly dress like he was completely in love with her. The way he stared down at her so adoringly, I wouldn’t have doubted if that were the case.

  My stomach clenched as my heart squeezed in my chest. What the hell is going on? I felt like someone was slicing me with a swift blade, and the pain was slowly setting in, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away long enough to save myself. The damage was done. I didn’t know what was worse. The fact that Liam clearly wasn’t who he said he was, or the fact that it was now excruciatingly clear how much I liked him and all the reasons why I shouldn’t.

  I knew he’d been keeping something from me. My gut had told me so. The red flags had been flying in front of my face since the day we met. Yet, I would have ignored every single warning if he hadn’t been so quick to walk away the other night. I would have slept with him, and I was certain my feelings would only have grown from there.