“They could turn out with your sarcastic mouth and love for putting me down,” Raul admits.
“Would that really be any better?” Chloe asks.
“Probably not, but I want to try anyway,” Raul admits.
Chloe playfully smacks Raul chest and turns her back to him again. She looks out to the water and guides his hands around her waist. Raul lets his head rest on her shoulder.
“Where would we live?” Chloe asks.
“We could live here?” Raul tries.
“Too much violence, and I can’t teach here.”
“Then, maybe we could live in Minnesota. They have pools, right?”
Chloe pinches Raul’s arm and leans her head back.
“Of course they have pools, where do you think I train in the winter?”
“I thought you were an ice queen impervious to frozen water.”
“And to think, I fell in love with a cookie that doesn’t have any chocolate chips in it.”
“What does that mean?” Raul asks.
“It means; your joke was not that cute or smart.”
“I am usually smart, though.”
“Sure,” Chloe mocks.
Raul squeezes her tighter, making Chloe giggle at his tantrum. It feels right being in his arms and getting to spend her last night in Rio with him.
“Will you come visit me in Minnesota soon?” Chloe asks.
“Probably in about three weeks. Need to get everything in order here so that I can leave the country and get a visa.”
“So technical, it really turns me on,” Chloe jokes.
“Should I start telling you about how the sun doesn’t revolve around me, but that the Earth revolves around the sun?”
“Keep talking, Copernicus,” Chloe breathes.
Raul releases Chloe and breaks into a fit of laughter. She turns around and sees him hunched over, grabbing at his abdomen.
“Do you really know that guy’s name?”
“Heliocentricism is nothing to joke about, Raul,” Chloe admonishes.
“I’m sorry,” Raul says.
Raul straightens back up and moves closer to Chloe. Her heart is pounding in her chest, knowing that life feels easy around Raul and that she can finally be herself with him.
Chloe lays her head against Raul’s chest and listens to the beating of his heart. Raul rubs his hands up and down her back, caressing her butt every once in a while. Chloe can feel the air grow thicker around them and her heart beating faster. Then she gets an idea.
“Are you wearing SpongeBob again?”
Raul presses himself against Chloe and starts kissing on her neck. She melts into his embrace, loving the way he knows just where to kiss to make her feel beyond amazing.
“You will just have to wait and see,” Raul murmurs.
Chloe feels her body grow excited at the prospect of them having sex again. Last time they fell asleep after the massage; this time Chloe plans to make Raul never want her to leave him. She turns around in his grasp and meets Raul eye to eye. Her hands find his belt and undoes it as he keeps eye contact.
“Last time you didn’t get the chance to have someone play with you until it was time. You get to go first.”
Chapter Twenty
One Year Later…
Chloe spots Raul next to her parents in the stands, waving a poster with her name plastered across it. She speeds up her final stretch, gaining on the man in front of her. Chloe just nearly passes him and takes second as she crosses the finish line. She can hear Raul yelling out over everyone else in the crowd.
The air feels cold as Chloe walks out of the lake, but it doesn't last long because Raul is right there with a towel. He wraps her up and plants a kiss on her lips. Chloe smiles up at him and wraps her arms around his neck, getting his shirt and shorts wet, too.
“Who would have thought you were better than male distance swimmers too?” Raul jokes.
“Well, I wanted to make sure you felt really inferior,” Chloe flirts back.
“It worked,” Raul admits.
Chloe is soon pulled from Raul and into the embrace of her parents. They are jumping in a circle and pull Raul into the celebration. They are a happy little bunch until Chloe pulls away to go to the award ceremony.
It is a swift ceremony and Chloe is handed her award for second place, causing the loudest cheers of the day to come from the man she loves and her family. Chloe's face turns red because of them, but she has a smile slitting her face open.
“Congratulations,” Chloe says to the two men on the stage with her.
They all shake hands and Chloe descends into the arms the waiting Raul. He sets her down after spinning her in a circle. He then immediately drops down onto a single knee in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Chloe asks.
“I am about to ask you to marry me.”
“You better say yes,” Chloe's mother calls from off to the side.
Chloe laughs and, currently speechless, nods her head in agreement.
“Can I have a verbal answer please,” Raul jokes.
He pulls a small box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a diamond encircled by small sapphires. The ring fits perfectly onto Chloe’s finger as she breathes out her answer.
“Yes, Raul, yes.”
It doesn't take long for the crowd around them to break into applause and for Chloe to grow instantly embarrassed, but her excitement about the day outweighs everything else.
“We are going out tonight to celebrate,” Chloe's dad announces.
Chloe is ignoring him while she hugs onto Raul and plants her own kiss onto his lips. Raul mimics her actions and holds onto her tightly.
“I suggest we get changed. Wet clothes are not that fun,” Raul laughs.
Chloe release her fiancé and they all head toward the cars. Chloe can't stop looking at the ring on her finger, amazed that just the year before she was winning bronze at the Olympics and now she is engaged to the asshole she met there.
“You know, Kylie is going to be upset she wasn't here for this,” Chloe admits.
“True, but I had your dad record it so we can send it to her.”
“She may still be angry that you did not coordinate this with her schedule.”
Chloe pulls her wetsuit top down to reveal a bikini top and bottoms. She finishes drying off at the car and slips a pair of shorts and event shirt on. Raul stares at her throughout the process, making Chloe blush.
“You do know you get to see me for the rest of your life, right?” Chloe mocks.
“Yet, I still cannot get enough of the love of my life.”
Chloe hugs Raul and gives him a final kiss in the lips before jumping into the passenger seat of the car.
“I love you, too,” Chloe chimes.
In Love with the Bad Boy
Veronica Cross
In Love with the Bad Boy
Copyright 2016 by Veronica Cross
First electronic publication: November 2016
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.
In Love with the Bad Boy
Chapter 1: Caroline
The walk in closet was littered with beautiful designer dresses, but none of them were rig
ht. There were tens of thousands of dollars in clothes on the off-white heated tile below her feet, and yet as Cynthia took one outfit after the other off the mahogany trimmed closet fittings, pulled each on and danced a little in front of the mirror to see every angle, she shook her head. She took a breath to calm herself. She was being ridiculous after all; it was just Christmas dinner with her family, she told herself, and an old friend. She took another deep breath in and touched her light brown hair to see if her curlers had cooled. They needed a bit more time. She examined herself in the mirror. She had always loved her slightly curvy figure, and although she had put on a little bit of weight since graduating law school three years ago, it fell into all the right places and only made her look more womanly. She looked better than she ever had.
“Is this okay?” She hadn’t noticed Glen come in and his question startled her a bit. Her husband stood before her dressed in his usual manner, charcoal grey slacks and a light grey shirt. The bland combination perfectly complimented neutral brown hair that was combed into a side part. He had classical features, which made him handsome in a way that grew more obvious as you got to know him.
“Of course, Glen. You look completely appropriate.” The response is a unique one, but where Cynthia knew some people wanted to hear that they looked handsome or radiant, Glen wanted to hear that he looked appropriate. He wanted to be sure he fit in and was suitably prepared for the occasion.
When they first started dating, she had given him compliments liberally. As soon as she saw him, she would tell him how handsome he looked, and his response was always the same. He would look a little confused, and ask, “Is it, you know, too much?”
“So, who’s this David joining us for dinner?”
“Coop,” she corrected him quickly, “well, yes, David Cooper. But he goes by Coop.”
“Coop… aren’t we getting a little old for nicknames? David’s a strong name. He’d be better off reverting to that. From what I heard from your mother, your father had to really push his partners to get him a real job at the firm; he should really show some thanks by cleaning up a bit. It’s amazing they hired him at all with all those tattoos—”
“He had a real job,” Cynthia cut him off, “he’s an artist.”
Glen paused.
“Your mother also told me you two dated for a while.”
Glen’s comment hung in the air for a moment, and Cynthia was immediately embarrassed by how defensive she had been of Coop. Not wanting her husband to think she still harbored any emotion for her ex, she continued quickly to cover her tracks.
“Oh, I’m surprised she even mentioned that. We went out a few times, years ago,” she waved her hands dismissively, minimizing their relationship as much as she could, “summer before law school, I think. I’m not even sure.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up tonight. Wouldn’t be appropriate,” he said, as he took a tie off the wooden rack affixed to the wall next to the full-length mirror.
“Especially in front of his fiancé.”
That last word sucked all the air out of Cynthia’s chest. Her mother hadn’t mentioned that detail when she said Coop was back in town. A fiancé. Her mind raced.
When she heard he had bought a house in their neighborhood she had thought it was a big step for him, but had chalked it up to him giving up his freelance artwork and getting a steady job at her father’s firm. But learning that he was engaged… Cynthia could still remember the soft, authoritative way his hands felt when they held her. She could still feel the gentleness of his lips the first time they touched hers. Even now, after all these years, simply thinking about him sent waves of heat through her body. She breathed deep. A fiancé. What was she like? Probably young… definitely beautiful. She sighed and scanned her closet again. Nothing here would be right.
“Cynthia?” Glen asked, holding a tie up in front of his shirt.
“No tie, Glen,” she answered, a bit more agitated than she had meant.
“Ok, well, I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready,” Glen mumbled quietly, already retreating into the hall.
Cynthia sat down on the plush leather armchair in their closet and surveyed her wardrobe. None of this would be right. She had to impress, but in an effortless way. Anything she had left over from her single days was too obvious. She wanted to show Coop what he was missing, but it would be so embarrassing if anyone could tell that’s what she wanted. The only pieces she had bought recently were appropriate for work. And anything that she could wear as a public defender was too straight-laced for Coop’s taste.
It’s funny how much things change. She got up and ran her hands through her dresses. If she had married Coop, this closet would look a lot different. This belonged to someone who wanted to be taken seriously in a male dominated office, not someone who embraced their femininity and sexuality as she had when she was dating Coop. But all this also belonged to someone who survived on a bit more than a freelance artist’s salary. As much as she complained about Glen being boring, it did mean he was dependable, and it was that dependability that led to the job that he landed at her father’s firm right out of college. And that was what gave her a closet that was bigger than her first apartment.
After a few more minutes of searching, she dug up a red dress that could work. She pulled it on. It was conservatively cut but clung to her body in all right places. Standing in front of the mirror, she slid her hands down her sides. For the first time in a long time, her curves were on display. It was refreshing. Feeling confident, she pulled black pumps off a shelf and stepped into them. They made her legs look endless and perked up her butt. To finish it off, she found the perfect shade of red lipstick. She sat at her vanity in her bedroom and carefully applied it. She let down her curlers and examined the final result. She looked better than she had in years. She grabbed her black quilted Chanel bag and went downstairs.
Glen was standing in the hall with his hands in his pockets, coat on. He was holding her coat in his hands; he had clearly been waiting for her. Cynthia smiled softly as she paused at the bottom of the stairs and waited for his reaction. Glen handed her jacket to her and turned to leave.
“Ready?”
The pumpkin pie Cynthia had bought yesterday steamed in her hands, keeping her warm as they walked across the street and two doors down to her parents’ house. Earlier that day, she had carefully taken it out of its package and placed it in one of the pie dishes that she and Glen had gotten as a wedding gift. She reheated it in the oven for ten minutes before they left.
She remembered registering for the dish years ago with Glen’s encouragement. They spent the day smiling and imagining their life together, choosing expensive pie plates and excessive throw pillows to fill out their new home. Three years later, the plates were sitting in a cabinet unused and the throw pillows were stacked in their window nook. A few of them still had the tags on.
Cynthia had actually tried to bake a pie once. She was an hour into her efforts when Glen came home after golfing with some clients. He examined the situation from the foyer. Cynthia was laughing helplessly, covered in flour, the dark granite counter top littered with eggshells and measuring cups. She saw Glen in the hall and stretched her arms out to him, inviting him to join her as she was trying to salvage the dough she had made a mess of. He stared at her for a few seconds.
“Oh, Cynthia… try to get this taken care of,” he said, and he went upstairs to read.
Cynthia rolled her eyes as Glen rang the doorbell. He couldn’t shake his manners if he wanted to. She pushed by him and opened the front door, which her mother recently had painted white, and went inside.
Because she had grown up in it, it had taken her returning from college to recognize the decadence of the home. Every detail was perfect enough to be ripped from the page of a magazine, carefully placed by a decorator and maintained by a housekeeper. They had mainly used neutral tones, but had splashes of color incorporated into the palate as well, which added a refreshing jolt of the unexpected eve
ry so often. This was fitting for her mother, who was calm and cool right up until she really had something to say.
Tonight, the home was immediately welcoming. Everyone else had already arrived and was milling around the living room with drinks in their hands. Tinsel and live garland was affixed to all the trim, giving it an incredibly festive feel.
Cynthia tried to look casual as she scanned the room until she found Coop. Her chest tightened and her face got hot when she found him. Age had certainly been good to him. He had filled out a bit, looking stronger and more like a man than he had years ago. His silky dark brown hair was shorter than it had been, but was still just as thick. Now, it hung just below his ears. It was a more grown up style, but still edgy. His green eyes were as full of happiness and life as they had been years ago. They showed his true nature which, despite the rough look he portrayed with his rock star attire, long hair, and sleeve of tattoos down his left arm, was soft, gentle, and kind. The tattoos were new. Cynthia didn’t recognize them. They reminded her that he had been absent from her life for years; and yet… seeing him now, it felt like just the other day she was running her hands through that hair and sneaking into the bathroom off the hallway to have her way with him. She wondered what else about him had changed.
Coop’s faded, ripped jeans stood out in the sea of business casual stuffiness that filled the living room. He did, however, opt for a long sleeved button down in lieu of his usual black tee shirt. That must be his “grown up” look. The sleeves were still rolled up enough to show off his tattoos, though. He was talking animatedly to a woman slightly obscured from Cynthia’s view.
Her brother interrupted her gaze by knocking into her with a bear hug.
“Hey, Ryan,” she laughed. She forgot how much she missed him. He was the male version of her. People always guessed that they were twins, but Ryan was two years younger, and refused to let her forget that. He was stockier, too, but had the same light brown hair and brown eyes as she did. Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek, complimented her dress, and removed the pie from her hands, hurrying to the kitchen with it. A bow-tied member of the staff her mother had hired for the occasion took her coat.
Romance: Pummel Me: A Boxing Romance Page 13