Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

  Todd's expression eased. “Was the sex bad?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? You go from him forcing me, to the sex being bad?”

  “So it wasn't?”

  I glared at him. “No, Todd, it wasn't bad. It was amazing. Toe-curling, in fact.”

  “Then what did he do?”

  I went through the whole thing, including what I hadn't told Carrie and Annabeth. Things like the completely mixed up way I felt about what was happening with Dax.

  “So you still don't know where he is?” Todd asked when I was finally done.

  “Nope.” The word left a bitter taste in my mouth. “And I don't even feel like I have the right to be pissed when he hasn't even called his mom.”

  “Do you care about him?”

  I leaned forward, resting my head on my hands. I could feel Todd's eyes on me and knew he'd wait for an answer. “Yes, but it's not like I really have any idea what that means. Like I said before, he's the first guy I've ever been with.”

  “Hon, it doesn't matter if he's the first guy or the twenty-seventh guy.” Todd's voice was gentle. “When you know, you know.”

  I looked up. “I told you about my grandma, how she thought she was in love with Chauncey Manning, and then he left her. Didn't even care that she was pregnant. She never got over it. She might've known how she felt, but he apparently didn't get the memo.”

  “Do you think it would've made a difference to how she felt if she'd known he'd leave?”

  “I don't think she would've slept with him,” I said.

  “It might've changed her actions, but do you think it would've changed how she felt?”

  I took a moment to consider the question. I'd never had a close relationship with my mom's parents. Grandma had never forgiven Mom for marrying a boxer instead of trying to “make something of herself.” I'd always thought it was a bit hypocritical of her since my parents had married for love. They'd been poor, but they'd stayed together and in love until the day he died. As I'd gotten older and found out more about the circumstances surrounding my mom's conception, I realized that Grandma had been jealous of what my mom had. No matter what her motivations were though, it meant I didn't have much of a relationship with my grandmother.

  But that didn't mean I couldn't put myself in her place. How would I feel if I found out that Dax had just blown me off completely? If he'd contacted his mom some time yesterday and told her that he didn't want me to know where he was? Would I regret the time I'd had with him if this was how things ended? If I discovered that the man I'd given myself to wasn't the man I thought he was?

  Even if all of that happened, I might regret having slept with him, but I didn't think it would change how I felt. Confused, yes, but I couldn't deny that there was something far more complicated than I liked going on here.

  “I can't think straight around him,” I confessed softly. “I mean it's like my brain completely short-circuits when it comes to him. In my head, I know we're supposed to be casual and that it's not a good idea to get involved with him. Then I see him, and all I want...”

  I let the statement trail off.

  “All you want is to jump his bones?”

  I laughed, grateful for the break in tension. “Yeah, that's about right. And trust me, if you'd had sex with him, that's all you'd want to do too.”

  He joined in my laughter but had a question at the end of it. “But it's not only sex, is it?”

  I shook my head. “It'd be easier if that's all it was.”

  “Tell me about it,” Todd said, rolling his eyes. “Sometimes sex makes things more complicated, but there are times when it's a lot simpler when that's all there is to worry about.”

  I finally let myself voice one of the things that had been worrying me. “Am I going too fast? I mean, I understand that I can't control my feelings for him, but am I rushing something that shouldn't be rushed?”

  Todd raised an eyebrow. “Didn't you sleep with him like two days after you guys met?”

  I flipped up my middle finger as he laughed. “I'm not talking about the physical part of it. I'd already been thinking about casual sex instead of relationships before I even got here, so I went into that with my eyes wide open.”

  “You mean emotionally.”

  I nodded. “Maybe I'm not wired to have sex with no strings attached, or maybe it's just him. What I do know is that every time I'm with him, he gets deeper.”

  The fact that Todd didn't focus on my unintentional innuendo told me that he understood that I was being serious.

  “So you're asking if I think you need to back off so you don't get any more emotionally involved than you already are.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And you want my advice?”

  I gave him a wry look. “As long as it's not to follow my heart, go for it.”

  “It's out of your hands right now,” he said, looking at me with so much sympathy and caring that tears pricked my eyes. “There's nothing you can do except wait for Dax to make his move. Either he’ll show up and give you some excuse about what he's been doing so you can decide whether or not to forgive his ass. Or you'll hear that he's being a bastard, and you can move on.”

  I dropped my face in my hands. “So your great advice is to do nothing?”

  He pulled them away, clasping them between his own. “My advice is to focus on what you have right in front of you, and if the shit hits the fan, know that I'll be there to kick his ass if you need me.”

  It was good advice. I'd been trying to put everything with Dax out of my head, but it hadn't been working at all. Now that I'd spoken to Todd about it, admitted the reality of the feelings I was struggling with, I felt lighter. Not really better, since I still didn't know that he was okay, but lighter.

  The feeling stayed with me as Todd and I walked back to the theater. We arrived at the same time as August Dumont, the other male actor in Collide. He was attractive, in a rough sort of way. Not like Dax with his tattoos and piercings, but more like those athletes who just had so much charisma that it took them to a different level. Appropriate since he was portraying a baseball player whose career was ruined by the same tragedy that brought the five of us together. Since the script didn't say what that tragedy was, we'd been discussing it among ourselves since the first day. Earlier today, August had joked about us keeping track of all of our ideas.

  “Ready to get back to it?” August asked as he fell in step next to me.

  “I am.” I was surprised to find myself answering honestly.

  “She's just looking forward to making out with me,” Todd said with a wink.

  “Yeah, that's it,” I said dryly.

  “I think you're the lucky one, Todd.” August bumped his elbow against my shoulder. At six and a half feet, his shoulder was too far above mine for me to reach with my elbow.

  “Thanks.” I gave him a stiff smile.

  August was nice enough, and he'd made it clear that he was interested in seeing me outside of work, but it hadn't even been a consideration. Aside from the reasoning I'd given him – that I didn't plan on dating anyone I worked with – I wasn't attracted to him. There was no spark between us, no heat. It hadn't stopped him from flirting, but he wasn't being obnoxious about it, so it didn’t bother me.

  Part of me wondered what Dax would do if he saw me with August. He'd acted like he was jealous of Todd, who wasn't even interested in me that way. Seeing August hitting on me should make Dax even more possessive, and the thought made something primal in me twist. I'd liked feeling claimed by him, and I now realized that should've been my first clue that I wasn't as indifferent to how things were going as I wanted to believe.

  Then again, if Dax was trying to blow me off, he wouldn't care about August at all.

  That thought didn't sit well with me, but I reminded myself that I had a job here and that Todd was right. Until Dax decided to make a move, I couldn't do anything about the situation. What I had control over, what I could do was become Gretchen and focus o
n the dream that had brought me to New York in the first place.

  Chapter Four

  Dax

  We got back to the city late enough that I was able to tell myself that it was better to sleep on the shitty couch in the shop than to go home, but I knew it was a lie. I was so tired that I managed to get a few good hours in before Little Eddie came in to open up, but that was about it.

  Between being crammed in a car for hours and then crashing on the couch, my joints and muscles were so stiff I felt like an old man. My head hurt too, but that was because I knew I had to deal with my shit today. The first thing on that short but brutal list was calling my mom. I should've gone home and talked to her in person, but I took the coward's way out and went into the office for some privacy for the call.

  She answered on the first ring. “Dax?”

  “Hey, Mom.” I closed my eyes and waited.

  “Are you okay?” Under her concern, the anger and disappointment made me sick to my stomach.

  “Yeah.” I knew she wouldn't push me for details, and a part of me actually hated that she wouldn’t ask because she didn’t want to know about some of the things I'd done. “Sorry for worrying you.”

  I meant the apology, but I knew she would still give me hell for it. That was how we'd always done things. I fucked up, kept as much of it from her as possible, and then apologized. She didn't ask questions she didn't want to know the answer to, and she chewed me out. Then we went back to the way things always were.

  Except this time, she didn't say anything. I looked at my phone, but the call hadn't dropped. The longer the silence stretched, the more nervous I got, the faster I paced. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

  “Mom?”

  “You need to get your shit together, young man.”

  Oh, fuck. Mom shouted at me when I deserved it, but when she started talking all quiet and flat, that's when I was really in trouble.

  “I don't know what you were doing, and I don't want to know, but you had all of us worried sick about you, and you’re too old to be pulling that.”

  She was right, and that was the worst part of all of it. I was twenty-four years old, and I needed to get my act together. I just didn't know how to do it. Without meaning to, I'd gotten in too deep.

  “You need to make things right, Dax.” Her voice was firm. “I love you, but I can't keep doing this. I can't spend my days and nights wondering if you're hurt or in jail or if you're just being thoughtless. It's not fair to the people who care about you.”

  It wasn't until she said that last bit, about people who cared about me, that I connected it to something else she said. Us. She said that I'd had all of us worried. Not just her. Something happened yesterday to change things to plural, and I suspected I knew what it was.

  “Mom?”

  “Like I said. You need to make things right.”

  She ended the call, leaving me staring down at my phone with what I knew was a stupid expression on my face. She hadn't raised her voice, not once, and she hadn't called me names or threatened to kick me out of the house. But what she did say was worse than any of that.

  I'd fucked up worse than I ever had before and knew that the only way to make it right was to tell the truth and try to figure out a way to get out of the mess I'd made.

  That was the right thing to do.

  The smart thing.

  Instead, I walked back out into the shop and asked Little Eddie what was on my schedule for today.

  * * *

  It was a good thing that I hadn't had anything complicated to do because I probably would've fucked it up. I wasn’t able to stop thinking about what my mom said. I'd known almost immediately that she and Bryne had met. Not because I'd had the balls to take Bryne to the house to meet Mom, but because I'd been an asshole, and Carrie had brought the two of them together. The timeline of the calls and texts I'd gotten were enough for me to figure out how things had gone down. Not that the chain of events mattered. It was done, and now I had to man up and face it.

  Which meant as soon as I was done with my last repair, I punched out and headed for the subway. I was filthy from work, still wearing the clothes I slept in, and probably smelled bad, but I was still going straight to Bryne. If I went home, I might lose my nerve, and I couldn't let that happen.

  When I recognized the car waiting at the curb, I realized I'd been spending way too much time standing by this car, waiting for Bryne. I gave the driver a little wave, ignored the knowing look he sent my way, and then went to the same place I stood the last time I'd waited for Bryne after rehearsal.

  I told myself I wouldn't get jealous when she came out with Todd. Then I remembered he was gay, and that I was the only man she'd ever been with. I didn't let myself think the next part of that, the part I wanted more than I'd wanted anything in a long time.

  The part that said I wanted to be the only man to ever know what it was like to be inside her.

  Then she walked outside between Todd and another man. The stranger had brown hair, blue eyes, was probably in his mid-thirties...and was definitely not gay. The way he was looking at Bryne made my blood boil, and it was all I could do not to tell him to get the hell away from her.

  I straightened, and that was when she saw me. Her eyes widened, and she stopped. Emotions flashed across her face, almost too fast for me to identify. Some were positive, but the one that settled there, I could only describe as beyond pissed.

  “Bryne?” The new guy put his hand on her shoulder.

  I took a step forward, but Todd was already there.

  “Hey, August, why don't you grab a cab with me.”

  I felt a flash of gratitude, but then this August asshole glared at me like I was the one who didn't belong, and all I could think about was kicking his ass.

  “Come on, Bryne,” he said.

  If he touched her again, I was going to break his fucking hand.

  “You guys go,” she said, her eyes still on me. “Dax and I need to talk.”

  As Todd practically dragged the other man away, I walked toward her. She held up a hand, and for a moment, I considered ignoring it. I needed to taste her, feel her. Only the fact that I'd never forced myself on a woman, and I didn't intend to start now, made me stop. Especially not with her.

  “What do you want?” She folded her arms across her chest and gave me a look that was even colder than the air.

  I jerked my head toward the car. “Let's talk and ride.”

  She rolled her eyes and got into the car, but when I climbed in after her, I found her sitting against the far door, a clear sign that she didn't want me to touch her.

  “Find us somewhere to park,” she said to the driver. “Somewhere near a place you can go for a cup of coffee.”

  “I don't think Mr. Manning would like that very much.”

  I could see part of the driver's face reflected in the rearview mirror, and it told me that he didn't like the idea of leaving me with her any more than he thought Bryne's uncle would.

  “He might not,” Bryne agreed. “But I need to talk to Dax alone.”

  I didn't think I was going to like what she had to say, but I knew I needed to hear it. Like my mom said, I had to make things right.

  Neither one of us said anything until the driver found a nearby parking garage, then left us alone on the second level while he headed out to get a coffee or whatever.

  “All right,” she said. “Now tell me whatever it is you wanted to say.”

  “I talked to my mom. She said you were worried about me.” That was a bit of a stretch, but it got to the point a lot quicker than if I'd tried to explain everything. “I wanted to let you know that I'm okay.”

  A few seconds of silence, and then she snapped, “Fuck you.”

  Not the response I was hoping for. “Look, I was helping a friend.” Not exactly a lie, though helping and friend were an even bigger stretch than my other statement.

  “And you didn't bother telling your mother?”

  “She doesn't li
ke my friend.” That, at least, was the truth. Or would be if she knew any of the guys. I slid over until there wasn't any space between us. “I'm sorry I worried you.”

  “Dax–”

  I ran the back of my hand down her cheek, smiling when she caught her breath. Her skin was so soft. The women who hung out at the shop, women like Cleo, they had skin like leather half the time.

  “Come on, Bryne, I said I was sorry.” I dropped my voice as I leaned in, trying to ignore the floral scent of her shampoo. “Let me make it up to you.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?”

  She sounded out of breath, and I took that as an invitation to put my hand on her knee. The leggings she wore were thin enough that I could feel the heat of her skin under them. I bit her earlobe as I cupped the back of her head. My hand moved higher, and I started to kiss my way down her jaw.

  “You'll have to do better than that.” She tilted her head back, and the part of me that was still wondering if she was going to push for more answers relaxed.

  “Challenge accepted.” I tasted the side of her neck even as I twisted my fingers in her hair. Salt and the flavor of her hit my tongue, and blood rushed to my dick.

  I pushed her skirt up, then shoved my hand down the front of her leggings, working them down to her knees. Her legs fell apart, giving my fingers room to move even as her leggings dropped to her ankles. The curls between her legs were coarser than the ones on her head, but they were still softer than mine. Some guys might not have liked the fact that she didn't wax or shave, but I'd seen plenty of bare cunts, and I didn't really like any of the women attached.

  “So wet,” I muttered as I pushed a finger inside her. “You wet for me, Bryne?”

  “Maybe,” she moaned.

  I raised my head, tightening my grip on her hair. “Maybe?” I shoved a second finger in with the first. “I can feel how fucking wet you are.”

  She glared up at me. “Maybe it's for you.”

  Fuck no. She did not just say that.