Bossy Bastard: A Hero Club Novel

by J. L. Perry

I wheel our suitcases up the cobblestone path as Emma fishes in her purse for her keys. It’s been a long day, and we’re both running on adrenaline.

  “It feels weird coming home without him here,” she says, opening the front door.

  “He’ll be home soon enough.”

  She flips on a light in the foyer, and I follow her down the long hall toward the back of the house. My eyes flicker over the railing on the staircase leading to the second floor as we pass, and I smile. It’s made from branches off a tree. Very cool.

  We head into the kitchen. “I’m not sure what food my father has, but let me make you something to eat.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say, although I’m starving. I had something light to eat on the plane, but that was almost twelve hours ago.

  “Are you okay with grilled cheese? I’ll go to the store tomorrow.”

  “Sounds great.”

  I take a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and watch her move around the kitchen. “I like these,” I say, pointing.

  “The stools?”

  “Yes.” They have a wooden top, and the legs are also made from rustic branches off a tree.

  “My dad makes a lot of country furniture.”

  “Does he sell it?”

  “Yes. I’ll show you his workshop and studio in the morning if you like… it’s out back.”

  “I’d like that. Is that what he does for a living?”

  “He used to work in the mines, but yes, that’s what he does now. He loves making things, it’ll never make him rich, but he makes enough to get by.”

  She fries the cheese sandwiches in butter on the griddle.

  “Thank you,” I say when she puts the plate down in front of me.

  “Is juice okay? I can make you a coffee if you like.”

  “Juice is fine.”

  “I’m going to head upstairs and have a quick shower,” she says, handing me the glass.

  “You’re not eating?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Emma, you have to eat.”

  She dips her eyes to the floor. “I’ll have something in the morning. I don’t have the stomach for food right now.”

  “Come here.” Reaching for her hand across the bench, I guide her around to my side.

  I drag her onto my lap before picking up half a sandwich. “Take a bite.” I hold it up to her mouth.

  She rolls her eyes. “I see you’re still as bossy as ever.”

  I chuckle. “Open.”

  Emma huffs before taking a tiny bite off one corner.

  “You can do better than that.” I slide my free hand around her small waist, holding her in place. “I’m not letting you up until you at least eat this half.”

  She takes it out of my hand. “Fine.”

  Pulling my shirt over my head, I slip out of my shoes and take a seat on the edge of her bed. My eyes drift around the room. It’s simple and very pink, a typical girl’s room I guess, complete with ruffled curtains. She has a few posters on her wall, and stuffed animals line the end of her bed. There’s a shelf on the far wall crammed with books, and by the looks of the spines, they’re well-read. A corkboard hanging above her desk catches my eye. It’s covered in photographs.

  Standing, I cross the room to get a better look. I smile as I study an image of a small Emma, probably around five years old, she’s sitting on what I presume is her mother’s lap. It’s easy to see where she inherited her beauty.

  There are photos of Emma with her dad—in one they’re working on a car. She’s got grease on her face, and I find myself smiling as I look at it. The others are of her with a variety of different animals—one where she’s on horseback, one of her feeding a baby calf with a bottle, and another with her arm wrapped around the neck of a large pig. I wonder if that’s Jessabelle. Obviously, her love of creatures goes way back. It’s nice to get a glimpse into her past.

  One picture in particular grabs my attention. I remove the pin holding it in place, bringing it toward my face for a closer look. She’s wearing a pink dress. Her prom dress. Ah, so that’s what capped sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and applique are. She looks beautiful and so happy. She’s beaming. I glide the tip of my finger over her smile. My heart hurts for that young girl. If only she knew what awaited her that night and how much her life was about change.

  I hear the water in the bathroom turn on, and all I can do is think about her naked body behind the closed door. I’m a perverted fuck. Her father is lying in the hospital, and I’m standing here silently lusting over her.

  It’s hard to believe that yesterday I couldn’t get within an inch of her, and now I’m in Utah, standing in her childhood bedroom.

  I pin the picture to the board and walk to the bathroom door. I release a lung full of air as I rest my forehead against the wood, and that’s when I hear her crying.

  She held herself together all day, and I should give her the privacy she needs to let it all out, but I don’t want her to face this on her own. Emma’s suffered in silence in the past, but she doesn’t need to anymore. I’m here now.

  I open the door before I get a chance to talk myself out it. A lump rises to my throat when I see her sitting on the floor of the shower stall with her legs pulled up around her chest, and her head cradled in her hands as wracking sobs consume her tiny body.

  Slipping out of my jeans, I head toward the shower. I leave my boxer briefs on because I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. I simply want to comfort her. I hate seeing her like this.

  I open the door and step inside, bending and pulling her to her feet. My arms hold her tight until the tears finally stop.

  I cup her face in my hands. “Talk to me, Em.”

  “I feel like my world is spiraling out of control, and I’m losing everyone I care about… Duke, you, my dad. I just… I just don’t think I can handle anymore.”

  My thumbs glide over her cheeks. I’m not even sure which ones are tears, but I feel compelled to wipe them away nevertheless.

  Our eyes lock as I cup her face. “You haven’t lost me, Em.” My mouth collides with hers, passionately but briefly. “Tell me you still want me because I fucking need you. I’m miserable without you.”

  Her hand moves between us, sliding down the front of my boxers. “I don’t care if you’re gone tomorrow. Right now, I need this… need you.”

  I groan as her fingers grip my aching cock, stroking it. My lips trail across her jaw as my hands snake down her body. I can feel her ribs through her skin. She’s definitely lost weight. Tomorrow I’m going to stuff her full of calories, I don’t care what she says.

  Gripping her tight ass, I lift her off the floor. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  Pushing her back against the tiles, I grind my cock against her pussy. She moans as her fingers tangle in my hair.

  “Fuck me, Ashton,” she says against my mouth.

  “Em.”

  “Please.”

  “I don’t want to fuck you. I want to make love to you.”

  She draws back, and the look she gives me sets me on fire, making my heart kick into overdrive. I never want her to stop looking at me in that way. It’s at this very moment I know I’ll never be able to go on without her.

  “I hunger for your body, Emma, for you. I’m scared to touch you because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop if I do.”

  “Then don’t… don’t stop.”

  My lips meet hers as my thumb circles her clit. And the instant I slide inside her, all the hurt and uncertainty I’ve faced in the last two weeks vanishes.

  I’m home.

  She’s my fucking home.

  “Fuck, you feel so good,” I say, drawing back and plunging back in until I’m balls deep inside her paradise. “So fucking good.”

  “God, I’ve missed you.”

  I still, and my heart swells at her confession. As much as I’d hoped she had, I was petrified I’d lost her.

  She tugs on my hair. “Don’t stop.” I chuckle into he
r neck and thrust into her again, and again, and again. I can’t get enough. “Harder.”

  My hands grip her hips, holding her in place as I start moving at piston speed.

  Faster.

  Deeper.

  I give her my all.

  The room is filled with cries of pleasure and the sound of our bodies slapping together, skin on skin.

  Her legs tighten around my waist, and I can feel them trembling. “Yes, that’s it. I’m coming. Oh God, I’m… I’m…” Her head falls back, and her mouth parts as the most beautiful sound falls from her lips. That, combined with her tight pussy clenching around my dick, send me spiraling toward my own release.

  We’re both breathless as we stay unmoving for the longest time. I want to tell her I love her, but the words remained lodged in my throat.

  Her body is still pinned against the wall as I slide out.

  And then the realization hits.

  No condom.

  Fuck!

  I’m left alone with her for five minutes, and the last of my remaining rules flies right out the damn window.

  The panic hits me full force as I take in a deep breath, trying to calm my raging heart.

  How could I be so reckless?

  “Are you okay?” she asks, cupping my face.

  “I’m fine.” I force out a smile as I rest my forehead against hers. The last thing I want is for her think I’m having regrets about what we just did. Well, I am, but not for the reasons she may think.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day.” I step back, placing her legs on the floor. “Turn, let me wash you and get you into bed.” I place a soft kiss on her shoulder when she does as I ask. I can’t risk her watching me a second longer. I’m afraid if she does, she’ll be able to see the sheer terror that’s now clawing at my insides.

  It’s after three in the morning by the time I climb the stairs that lead to Emma’s bedroom. She could barely keep her eyes open while I dried her after our shower. She was out like a light the moment she got under the covers. I told her I was going to make sure the house was locked up, but in reality, I needed some space. Some time to regroup and try to settle the rampant clusterfuck in my mind.

  As soon as I lie down beside her, she rolls over, and my heart constricts. Even in her sleep, she gravitates toward me.

  My feelings for her are deep. Deeper than they’ve ever been. To be with someone, I mean really be with them—on a level other than physical—is something I’ve never experienced.

  Until her.

  Even what I once felt for Anastasia doesn’t compare. Not even close.

  Rolling onto my side, I watch her sleep. My hand reaches up as my fingers lightly brush back the strands of hair that have fallen over her face. I don’t know where things will go from here, or what tomorrow will bring, but I’ll be there by her side no matter what. I won’t make the same mistake again.

  My arm slides around her waist, drawing her closer. I bury my nose in her hair and inhale her sweet vanilla scent.

  It calms me.

  She calms me.

  She gives me hope.

  Hope for the future.

  For a life I once dreamed of having but lost.

  I close my eyes and let the darkness pull me under.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ASHTON

  I’m startled awake when I hear a loud bang downstairs. I can’t tell you the last time I had a full night’s sleep, I feel like I’m constantly on edge. Ever heard of the expression, ‘sleep with one eye open’? That’s basically what’s become of my life.

  “I know you’re in there, Ash. Open up.”

  I blow out a long breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. This shit has to stop. Throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed, I snatch up the gray sweatpants hanging over the chair and step into them just as the banging starts up again.

  There’s no point trying to ignore her, she’s not going away. She never goes away. My anger grows as I stalk down the hallway, descending the stairs.

  “What do you want now, Anastasia?” I snap, swinging the front door open. “You can’t keep turning up here all hours of the fucking night.”

  “Who’s in there with you?” I’m still half asleep, so she manages to push past me, entering my home before I can stop her. “I know you’re not alone.”

  This woman is bat-shit crazy.

  “There’s nobody here,” I say, reaching out and snagging her wrist before she makes it to the staircase. “And even if there was, it’s none of your business. We broke up two fucking months ago, Ana. Move on already.”

  Tears fill her big blue eyes, and the dark bags underneath them are visible against her stark pale skin. Her face is gaunt, and her once perfectly groomed blonde hair looks like it hasn’t been either washed or brushed in days. She’s let herself go since we split and in no way resembles the vibrant beauty I met all those months ago.

  I sigh as my gaze moves up the cathedral ceilings in my main foyer. I’m not falling for this again. She’s not guilting me into taking her back. I’m done. I’m not in love with her, I don’t even think I like her anymore. She’s become ever more unstable in the past few months, and if I’m completely honest, she scares the shit out of me.

  I drop her arm, scrubbing my hands over my face. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I feel like I’m living in my own private hell. I’m always anxious, never knowing when she’s going to pop up or what she’s going to do next.

  She uses my distraction to dash up the stairs, and I don’t bother giving chase. She’s not going to leave until she knows with all certainty I’m alone. I’ve had no intention of being with another woman. This crazy bitch has turned me off the opposite sex. Well, for the interim anyway.

  When I finally catch up, I find her in my bedroom. Once she sees my bed is empty, she moves to the ensuite before heading to my walk-in closet. She’s not going to find what she’s looking for because I’m alone.

  “Satisfied,” I say as my patience wears thin. There’s no getting through to her. Even Grayson tried to sit down and have a deep and meaningful conversation with her. His words fell on deaf ears.

  She’s obsessed.

  I’m starting to wonder if she’ll ever let me go.

  If I’ve learned anything over the past six months, it’s she doesn’t listen. It’s her way or no way, and she’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants.

  And I mean nothing.

  I stand in the doorway of my bedroom as she approaches my bed. Grayson’s been pressuring me for months to get a restraining order against her. Maybe I need to finally bite the bullet and do it.

  “I love you, Ash,” she says, sinking onto the edge of the mattress. “I can’t live without you. Don’t you understand that?”

  I blow out a long breath. “We’re over, Anastasia. Over.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I mean every single word. How many times do we have to rehash this? I don’t want to be with you anymore, you need to accept that.” I throw my hands in the air. “You need help, Ana. Can’t you see how unstable you are?”

  “Stop saying that. Why does everyone say that?”

  My gaze moves to my feet. “Because it’s true.”

  “I don’t need help… I need you.”

  “Well, you can’t have me.”

  She straightens her spine and gets that’s crazed look in her eyes. It’s a look I’ve become accustomed too. “I’m pregnant, Ashton.”

  Those three words were not what I was expecting her to say.

  Three little words that manage to suck all the life out of me.

  Becoming a father is something I want one day, but not now and not with her.

  “You’re lying.” It wouldn’t be the first time she made something up to try and get me to take her back.

  She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a white stick, holding it out in front of her. When I don’t move, she rises from the bed and walks to
me.

  I just stand there rooted to the spot.

  Please don’t let this be true.

  “I am. I took a test this morning. I’m having your baby, Ash. We’re going to be parents. We’re finally going to be together again… be a family.” I flinch when she runs her hand down the side of my face. “I love you so much.”

  “Ashton… Ashton, wake up.” My eyes spring open as a feeling of dread washes over me. “Shit, you were having a nightmare.”

  It takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust, and I feel immediate relief when Emma’s sweet face comes into view.

  “Em,” I say, pulling her into a crushing hug.

  “Are you okay, you’re shaking?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I lie. I suppressed those memories deep down inside me many years ago, but what happened in the shower spooked me. It must’ve brought them back to the surface.

  Emma draws back, running her hand down the side of my face, and it takes everything I have not to flinch like I just did in my dream.

  She’s not her.

  She’s not her.

  “Tell me about Anastasia,” she says.

  Her words shock me. Did I call out her name in my sleep? “How do you know about Anastasia?”

  “Grayson,” she says.

  “He told you about her?” I ask, my anger rising.

  “He didn’t tell me anything other than if I ever got a chance to speak with you again, to ask you about her. He said it may help me understand you better.”

  I blow out a frustrated breath. I don’t talk about Anastasia with anyone. For me, it’s a closed book, a part of my past I don’t want to revisit.

  “Talk to me, Ashton. Help me understand.”

  There’s something about this woman that makes me want to bare my soul. Maybe because she shared her own struggles or for reasons entirely different. I have no clue. In a way, I can relate to her. Our pasts are nothing alike but, in some ways, similar. A common bond.

  I pull her back down to me, resting the side of her face on my chest right above my erratically beating heart. I clench my eyes shut as my fingers softly glide through her long hair.

  “We met on a photo shoot. She was a model. I was twenty-three… she’d just turned twenty. In the beginning, things were great. She was beautiful and fun to be around. She had a wild side, a real zest for life. I’d never met anyone like her. For a time, we were happy. Truly happy.”