Breaking A Bad Boy Page 25

  “What the fuck? These things have thorns,” Drew yelped, falling into the greenery.

  Rory laughed short and low. If that dickhead only knew the extent of control he’d exercised, staring down at him. Without waiting for the cocksucker to stand up, he leaned over and jabbed him in his chest. “You come after us with any more of this shit, and I’ll make sure you don’t forget that when I say to stay away from Sommer, it’s not a goddamn suggestion. It’s a fucking law, dipshit!”

  He rose and reached for Sommer, leading her away. “Baby, I missed you too much to hang around back home.”

  “And you just hoped on a plane? You’re something else, cowboy,” Sommer chided him softly and stopped walking. He faced her just as she dropped her shoes and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Guess we both are. Come on,” he said, squeezing her within his arms. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We need to talk.”

  RORY was wrong about Sommer’s dress. It wasn’t a slip of material. It was some mind-tripping version of liquid gold that molded over her ass, melded to her torso, and showcased her tits. She looked like a lifelike statue, a goddess, and he had to remind himself to shut his mouth.

  Drew walked by and saluted. “Dude, call me if you’re up for sharing? It’s as easy as a coin toss on who gets what part of Sommer.”

  Rory clenched his jaw, muttering, “I warned you.” He pivoted and swung his elbow upward, meeting Drew’s jaw that cracked. He followed up with a punch, knocking that fucker off his feet. He stood over Drew as he sprawled down on the walkway and growled in a low voice, “Next time, pay the fuck attention.”

  “He’s an unbearable jerk. I can’t believe I lost a friend because of that fool,” Sommer groaned and tugged on his arm. “Please. Let’s just go.”

  “Sugar, there are all types of jerks,” he retorted, raking his fingers through his hair and gritting his teeth. He walked Sommer to the edge of the stone path where she paused.

  “I guess,” she hissed, bending over to adjust her shoe. “I’d better let Ivy know that we’re leaving. Can you text her?”

  “That’s not my first concern. You wearing a bra?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off her body as she leaned against him and slipped on her shoe, the front her dress dipping away from her tits, giving him an eyeful, as well as anyone else who might amble up to them.

  “Do you really want to know?” A wave of her long hair partially blocked her expression from his view as he held onto her soft body.

  “Hold on. How about you text Ivy and I’ll tend to your shoes,” he grunted and knelt down, taking her ankle in his hand. Staring at the buckles on her shoe straps and then her long legs, he lost his concentration and growled, “These are so tiny.”

  “Not what you expected to have to deal with.” She laughed above him, and the sound of her voice soothed away the jagged edges of his need to find her.

  Her skin was silk against his palm. He now needed to get her dressed and simultaneously undress her. He wanted to find a place for them to be alone, where he could spread her legs and sink his tongue into Sommer, tasting her sweetness until she moaned, and then screamed his name. Droplets of sweat sprang outward, dripping trails down the side of his face that he wiped off with the back of his arm.

  Two shoes later, he had Sommer by the hand and was leading her toward the front of the house when a taxi pulled up. “Hell. If our luck can just hold up a little longer.”

  Rory held the door for Sommer and met the expectant stare of the driver. “Where to?” the man asked.

  “A hotel. The best one.”

  “One of The Four Seasons. Eleven miles from here,” the driver replied without having to stop and think. “I’ll take you to the best in the city and you tell me.”

  He nodded. “That’ll do.”

  “Where are we going to?” Sommer asked, her cheeks flushed and she looked incredible, grabbing his hand, and pulling him closer to her.

  Her dress wasn’t doing much to cover her legs or take his mind off the fact that they were headed to another hotel. Only this time, he didn’t know if he’d have the willpower to resist doing what he’d fully intended the last time he and Sommer were together. He wanted to finish what they’d started and begin their life together. The fact that his dick wanted in on this decision had his insides knotted from years of pent up hunger. The craving to pull her to him, encircle his arms around her and never let her go, roiled deep in his blood. He swore under his breath and struggled to inhale. Still jacked up from flying, searching for her, and dealing with how he’d found Sommer, his whole body felt like he was made out of fucking marble—he was so tight and on edge.

  “A hotel. Do you want to get your own room?” he asked, watching her lick her cherry-colored lips. He had one idea: kissing, sucking, biting the trail of moisture along her mouth. For the love of God, he prayed she’d say ‘No.’

  “Rory, we’re spending the night together,” she replied fervently, her eyes glittering inside the dimly lit cab.

  His cock jerked at her answer. “I need to relay some things, but that won’t take all night.” Hell no. What would take all night would be him tasting every single centimeter of her irresistible body. He was hard as a hammer and ready to piston between her pretty legs until both of them were worn out and their voices hoarse from hollering.

  But first, he had to tell her the news of why he’d come to L.A.

  “I see.” She bit her lip and met his eyes with her amber gaze, so beautiful his chest squeezed with what he had to tell her. Her chin quivered and she broke eye contact, her lashes batting. “About us and everything that’s happened? You could have called and saved yourself a trip.”

  As if hit by a bolt of lightning, he understood what she thought he was saying. That he came to tell her they were over. “Not about us. About your family and mine.”

  “Oh,” she wavered. “I don’t understand. You’re being cryptic. What has happened?”

  “Nothing yet. Sommer, we’ll be at the hotel soon. It’s not far and then we can talk.”

  Her brow furrowed. “It takes forever to go a block in this city. Regardless of what you have to say, officially I want to go home. I don’t like it here.”

  “It’s teeming with traffic and a load of people,” he observed, but redirected his attention back to her. She didn’t just pack up and leave unless something happened. “Everywhere. Or did something happen back there? More than what you originally said.”

  “At the party—no. Nothing. I was just trying to deal with this stain and Drew walked in on me. I meant all around. We are so not in Kansas anymore,” she said and twined her fingers between his, glancing up at him with a look not even a monk would be immune to. “Please, can you tell me why you came all this way to talk about family stuff?”

  “Not here. Sugar, let’s find a place where we can relax.” His voice tightened as he stared back at her, his thoughts littered with the details of what he had to share.

  For a few miles, the taxi rushed at a breakneck speed down the winding hills, and he stopped trying to control the thoughts churning in his mind. He held Sommer, touching her fingertips, kissing the back of her hand, and suddenly he felt the tension ease from both him and her. She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing familiar sounds as her scent filled his lungs. In the back of the taxi, they sat in silence, but the moment restored him.

  The darkness of the hills gave way to busy and busier streets. “Beverly Hills,” he read the sign. Shops, restaurants, and hotels lined the streets awash with light and people strolling down the sidewalk.

  “Not exactly what I was expecting,” she said. “People don’t come up for air over here.”

  The taxi rolled up to a red light and the driver pointed. “Wilshire Hotel. Still okay?”

  The hotel looked to have about a dozen floors with off-white exterior walls and lots of metalwork, and was what his mother and sister would classify as fancy. Posh. He glanced over to Sommer and squeezed her hand. “Look all right to you?
”

  “More than all right,” she whispered.

  The driver glanced at them from the rearview mirror and laughed. “There are others. Livelier, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “No,” she spoke up, canting closer to him. “Quiet is perfect.”

  “You folks just get here?” the driver asked.

  “Yep,” he replied, remembering his bag was in Haden’s car and her stuff was over at Ivy’s. “But we’re winging it tonight.”

  “A little piece of advice. Don’t let this town rule you. If you do, it’ll eat you up and spit you. That’ll be twenty-six bucks.”

  Rory paid the driver and opened the door, climbing out and pulling Sommer up by her fingers. She smiled at him with a look of delight that intoxicated him. He brought his hand to her chin and inhaled her fragrance, his thumb gliding along her bottom lip. “Let’s get a room, order up some room service, and talk.”

  CHAPTER 19

  NOT THAT SOMMER would ever admit that the crude suggestion Drew aka spawn of Satan had flung was factual, but there was a tiny sliver that she wondered about: Rory’s ability to be at the right place and the right time in her world. Was it Lady Luck for her or him…maybe them? Together. Each a complement to the other.

  She watched him at the desk, pulling out his credit card and smiling over at her with an irresistible dimpled grin, one he’d sported ever since she could remember. He gifted her with a glimmer of amusement, shining in his sapphire eyes, and a frisson of heat ignited a blaze within her. As if he felt the spark too, his pupils dilated and his whole expression transformed into a barely veiled look of intimate hunger. Her blood didn’t just race; it burned in her veins.

  If they were alone, she’d know just what to do. But standing in the lobby, she engaged in a round of self-talk with the theme of needing to reel it in, and hit the button for normal—not act like her whole world was about to shatter apart into teeny weeny little pieces.

  The sinewy cords along Rory’s arms and neck contracted as he leaned over the desk to sign the registration form. Viscerally, her muscle memory reacted to his flexing and bowing body with a coiling deep down in her belly. She bit her lip to stop from caving after an involuntary shiver rippled under her skin and the space between her legs clenched.

  Tonight he’s going to fuck me.

  Long.

  Hard.

  Rough.

  They had so much history together, and to be standing in a hotel lobby in Los Angeles, was she fixating on him? Or seeing him for the first time? For each moment she stood there, her heart pumped harder and she breathed faster, until their gazes met. Locked.

  “Sugar, you ready?” he asked.

  What did this all mean? Oh I think I know exactly what it means!

  “Just a second, Mr. McLemore.” The desk clerk held up a card. “I’ll need your signature for your Wilshire VIP card.”

  She grew impatient, stamping her mental foot and told herself to simmer the heck down. She’d loved him for so long, but each day wasn’t the same as the last. He was her ultimate adventure. A heady sensation filled her, like she was riding a wave around Rory—a wave that rose thunderously, carrying her up, up and away.

  But not away from him.

  Oh no, he was right beside her on this wild ride, and she trusted that he’d never let her fall. Of that she was sure. She didn’t want to think of Mike and his jackass proposal. Tonight had nothing to do with anyone else, besides herself and Rory.

  She traced her fingers along the edge of the marble countertop, deciding there would be no plans. If they got to the room and she felt inclined to sip a glass wine, she would. If she felt like standing on her head, she would. And if she felt like stripping naked and riding on Rory McLemore as if he were a bucking bronco, then she damn well would!

  “All set,” he said, displaying the key card.

  She jumped, the breath shooting out of her, and her mouth suddenly dry. “Great,” she squeaked. Is this my version of smooth?—oh brother. She attempted to lick her lips, staring up at him, and feeling like the floor was about to give way.

  “Need anything down here?” Rory jutted his chin over toward the sign for the hotel store. All the while he kept his eyes on her face. “We’re traveling light.”

  She tried to think of what they’d need. A laundry list flashed…a very dirty laundry list, and she bit her lip. Sommer, not that one! “Let’s grab some toothbrushes. I don’t suspect they have those up in the room.”

  “Good call,” he said, coming closer and lowering his head to her ear. “I need to pick up a few things myself.”

  She swallowed, wondering if he was saying what she believed he meant. Oh. Hell. Yeah! Glinting heat darkened his eyes and confirmed her suspicion, prompting the affirmative cheer to replay loud and proud in the background of her brain. Hell yeah!

  “Let’s go make a pit stop. This lobby is amazingly beautiful to just walk around.” She paused as her knees wobbled, and she feigned interest in the fountain in the center of the mezzanine. The lobby was jaw-dropping—from the marble floors to the columns, and she could sit and people-watch for hours in a place like this…if it were on any other night.

  Her mind raced from the sizzle coming from Rory’s fingers along her waist and she moved without looking where she going. All at once, he pulled her back against his hard body and the chiseled contours outlined by this clothing.

  “Whoa, sugar.” He laughed as a lady sauntered by with three snow white dogs, stalling her and Rory’s movement. A parade of poodles. Tiny little things, wagging their tails, yipping madly, and contained on rhinestone leashes. “Those could box in a stallion,” he replied then guided her forward when the procession moved passed.

  She tugged on Rory’s hand to slow down. “These are gorgeous.” The flower arrangements were Facebook post worthy—if she’d had her phone. “Sorry about my cell. I forgot my charger and it’s so old, no one at the apartment had one that fit.”

  “None of that matters now. We’re together. That’s what counts.” He brushed his warm mouth across hers in a kiss she’d remember without needing to take a selfie.

  Walking into the corridor, she paused as they passed by the store with women’s clothing. She didn’t have anything to change into and glancing at her reflection in the glass, she drew her brows together. “Do you think I could get something to wear for tomorrow? Nothing fancy. This dress is so very not appropriate.”

  “Gladly. Darlin’ you look incredible, but get something less revealing. Unless you enjoy torturing me.” Rory winked, fishing the hotel card out from his pocket. “Here. Charge whatever you want to the room. I’ll meet you back here. Anything else you want from the other store?”

  “Toothpaste, mouthwash, and whatever you were thinking. That’s it.”

  He chuckled, sure and easy, tweaking her nose. “Glad I asked. Take your time, baby.”

  “Not too much.” She squeezed his hand and noticed the sign. It was nearing eleven L.A. time. “This one is about to close.”

  She entered, but then hesitated inside the brightly lit store. Suddenly all around her—or so it seemed—the mirrors reflected the dismal state of her dress. Nothing short of an eyesore, and she cringed. She hadn’t gotten the stain completely out, and now the dress was wrinkled, misshapen from the scrubbing she’d executed, and hung loosely on her. Damn, she hoped it wasn’t ruined.

  Immediately, she realized how out of place she was in her fashion disaster, and went to backtrack. Too late. She met the arched brow stare of the salesperson. A man with a greying goatee who had been folding a shirt at the counter, and he stood frozen, his lips pursed. He shook his head from side to side—slowly, his eyes moving down her.

  “Oh girl,” he said with a twang. “You poor, poor thing.”

  “Do you have something that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg?”

  “Hmmm. You do have a spectacular pair of arms and legs. And you’re a Texas cutie?” He slapped his hand down on the counter. “Don’t play me now.”


  “Born and bred,” she whispered. “I’m not doing the Lone Star proud tonight.”

  “Well come on in. We don’t have much time.” He sauntered up to her, giving her a once over. “Curvy little thing. Size six?”

  “On my good days.” She grinned, amused by the look on his face.

  “Gah!” He flapped both his hands, as though waving away her words. “Girls would poke each other’s eyes out for a few of your curves, honeybunch.”

  “Not this evening. I spilled a drink down the front my dress.” Disappointed by the memory, she smoothed her hands down the front. “In case you didn’t already notice.”

  “We’ve all been there. Only I didn’t look as yummy as you still do. An unattractive splotch from a glass of red wine in Venice. On a white linen suit to die for…that sucker never came clean. You on the other hand, look scrumptious, and at least you have a story to take back home.” They both laughed knowingly.

  “True,” Sommer agreed.

  “Just checking in?” The gentleman asked.

  “Yep. I don’t need a dress for tonight…something for tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “Got just the thing. What part of the great state do you hail from?”

  “Annona,” she replied. “And you?”

  “I’m from down south. Hill Country. A little slice of heaven called Wimberley.” He lifted a red dress. At first she wanted to shake her head. She didn’t want anything that would draw attention. Nothing to get her more noticed than she’d already experienced.

  “Not far from Austin,” she returned, biting her lip.

  He nodded. “So you know, even after nine years in the big city, I’m still homesick. How about this one, doll? Red would be scrumptious with your lovely blond hair and that skin tone. And it’s not wild. A-line and on a figure like yours…give it a shot.”

  “It’s really darling,” she said, touching the soft material. “Points for not being next to nothing.”

  “Husband. Jealous?”