Loving a Bad Boy (Bad Boys Western Romance Book 4)

by Susan Arden

  “C’mon asshole,” he growled.

  “Bet she’s got a sweet as shit pussy,” Drew goaded him right back. “Ever fucked her ass? Can’t decide what I’m going to do first.”

  “Motherfucker, word in Annona is you can’t get it up for shit,” he bit out.

  Drew jeered and jabbed forward in a choppy strike. But standing on the edge of a sheer drop, Rory didn’t have many options. He sucked in his gut just as the tip sliced across the front of his shirt and felt the burn across his skin and the ooze of blood.

  Sommer screamed and in turn, he gritted out, “Baby, get back.”

  “We could’ve settled this. Both of us happy. Popped both her cherries. Yours. And called it a day.” Weaving the knife in front of his face, Drew lurched and Rory feinted to the side.

  Striking air, Drew spun around. “Not too late. It’s as easy as a coin toss on who gets what part of Sommer.”

  Rory clenched his jaw. “I warned you.” He pivoted and swung his elbow upward, clipping Drew’s jaw that cracked. At the same time, he wrenched Drew’s wrist, his focus targeting the shiny metal of the blade as it dropped to the ground. Angling his shoulder, barreling forward he dropped Drew, taking this shit to the walkway. Knocking that fucker off his feet, he followed up with a punch as they both swung and grunted, grappling over the ground. Rory threw his fist, slamming Drew in the face and followed up with three more until he was certain the asshole wasn’t a problem.

  “Enjoy having your jaw wired shut. If you want to live to tell about it, stay the fuck away from Sommer.” He pushed off Drew as he lay sprawled on the walkway.

  “Rory—” Sommer rushed forward.

  He reached for her. “Baby, Are you all right?”

  “In three seconds I will be.” She glared at Drew and he watched her swing her foot. For a second he thought she was going to kick the fucker. She didn’t. Instead she kicked a cell phone and sent it flying over the cliff into the rocks below as she hissed, “Stupid moron!”

  “Come on, baby. Let’s get out of here.” Rory piloted her forward, along the narrow walkway

  She touched his side and cried out, “You’re bleeding!”

  “Just a scratch.” He glanced at her, jutting his chin. “Sommer, I’m fine.”

  “How do you know? Let me take a look, McLemore.” Sommer scrunched her brow, tugging up his shirt, refusing to budge. She lightly trailed a finger over his ribs. “You’re cut. It’s not deep but needs to be bandaged.”

  “Satisfied?”

  “Not in the least since you’re hurt.”

  “Baby, I’ve taken worse from horse bites.”

  “Still…” She stared at him, then shook her head. “Thanks. For coming.”

  With his anger thinning, not gone but not strangling him either, he glanced down at her by his side, and let go a heavy breath. “Baby, I missed you too much to hang around back home.”

  “And you just hopped 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.”

  Sommer, shimmered alongside him out in the brightly lit circular drive. He was wrong about her dress. It wasn’t a slip of material. It was some mind-tripping version of liquid gold that molded to her curves, showcasing her body. She looked like a lifelike statue, a goddess, and he had to remind himself to shut his mouth.

  “That guy’s an unbearable jerk. I can’t believe I lost a friend because of that fool.” She tugged on his arm. “Please. Let’s just go.”

  “Sugar, there are all types of jerks including demented ones.” They strode to the edge of the stone path where she paused with the straps of her heels dangling over her hooked finger.

  “I guess so. Give me a sec. I can’t go there barefoot.” She bent over to slip on her shoe. “We’d better let Ivy know that we’re leaving. Can you text her?”

  The front of Sommer’s dress dipped away from her breasts, giving him an eyeful of her tight pink nipples. Everyone nearby wasn’t about to enjoy the view. Without thinking twice, he pulled her upright and frowned.

  “Are you trying to break me?” he rasped like a goddam caveman, unable to take his eyes off her as she leaned against him and continued trying to slip on her shoe.

  Sommer peered up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Texting Ivy isn’t my first concern. Are you bare under that dress?”

  A wave of her long hair partially blocked her expression from his view as he held onto her soft body. “Cowboy, this dress is standard in this town.”

  “That isn’t an answer.”

  She sighed. “Fine. I’m wearing panties. Kinda.”

  What the hell did that mean? He’d gotten a load of her itty-bitty scraps of lace that filled his spank bank. “I’ll deal with your shoes and you text Ivy,” he grunted and knelt, sliding his fingers down her smooth skin, taking her ankle in his hand. Staring at the tiny buckles on her shoe straps and then her long legs, he lost his concentration. “These buckles are a might tiny. Less isn’t more from where we’re from, darlin’.”

  “McLemore, this isn’t what you expected to have to deal with in Hollywood. I owe you, big time.” The sound of her voice soothed away the jagged edges of his need to find her.

  Her skin was silk against his palm. He wanted to find a place for them to be alone, where he could spread her legs, tasting her sweetness until she moaned, and then screamed his name.

  *

  Two shoes later, he had Sommer by the hand, and steered her toward the front of the valet line prepared to call a cab or Uber. As he pulled out his cell, Sommer leaned in and said, “A taxi pulled up. No one around is making a move.”

  “We are. C’mon, darlin’. Looks like our lucky break.”

  Grabbing the back door for Sommer, he met the expectant stare of the driver.

  “Where to?” the man asked.

  “A hotel. The best one,” he replied, climbing inside.

  “One of the Four Seasons. Eleven miles from here,” the driver supplied without having to stop and think. “It’s considered one of the best in the city. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

  “That’ll do.” Rory shut the door as the driver started talking rapidly into a mic at his jaw.

  “We’re going to a hotel?” Sommer’s cheeks were flushed and she looked incredible, clasping his hand, and pulling him closer to her.

  “Yep. I want to be alone with you. Not someone’s house guest,” he said.

  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. A possibility that had his dick snapping to attention as his muscles knotted in anticipation and spurred from years of pent up hunger. The craving to haul her to him, encircle his arms around her and never let her go, swam like liquid fire in his blood.

  “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.” Her golden eyes sparkled inside the dimly lit cab. “There’s no discussion on that point.”

  A twinge twisted along his ribs. They still had to talk. He had to tell her the news of why he’d come to L.A. “Baby, I need to relay some things, but that won’t take all night.”

  “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.

  “Sommer—”

  “If this is about us…” Her chin quivered and she broke ey
e contact. “About 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. He tugged her chin back to him, caressing her skin with his thumb. “I’m here because I love you. And we need to discuss family business.”

  “Oh,” she wavered as worry lit her eyes. “Is my mom all right?”

  He sighed, “Yeah, she’s okay. It’s not like that.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re being cryptic. Tell me straight. What happened?”

  Staring into her eyes, he held her hands, pumping lightly. “Nothing yet. Sugar, we’ll be at the hotel soon. It’s not far, and then we can talk. Privately.”

  “All right.” Her brow furrowed. “But 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.”

  “From what little I’ve seen, it’s teeming with traffic and a load of people. Going every which way and no way. All at the same time or seems that way,” he observed, but redirected his attention back to her.

  “You nailed it.” She remarked wistfully without saying more.

  Her tone made him question her motive of backpedaling. Traffic for someone like Sommer was a minor detail. She traveled to places where transportation amounted to riding on the back of a donkey. She didn’t just pack up and leave due to crowds, unless something went down.

  “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 provocative look not even a monk would be immune to. “Please, can’t you tell me something? 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 painful 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 razing his mind. He held Sommer, touching her fingertips, kissing the back of her hand, and slowly, 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. It 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 to the curb. 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 28

  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 single-dimpled grin, one he’d sported ever since she could remember. He gifted her with a glimmer of amusement, shining in his sapphire eyes. A frisson of excitement ignited a flame 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.

  Along Rory’s arms and neck, sinewy cords contracted as he leaned over the desk and signed the registration form. Her muscle memory reacted to his broad shoulders that stretched the seams of his shirt and the gravelly tenor of his voice as he spoke. Deep down in her belly the coil of aching need spiraled. She bit her lip to stop from caving after an involuntary shiver rippled under her skin and the space between her legs clenched.

  Tonight we’re going to make love. They had so much history together, but standing in a hotel lobby in Los Angeles, if was as if she were seeing him for the first time. Sommer’s heart pumped harder and she breathed faster, until their gazes met. Locked.

  “Sugar, you ready?” he asked.

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

  She’d loved him for so long, but each day wasn’t the same as the last. 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. Tonight, she didn’t want to wallow in worry about Mike and his jackass proposal. If just for the night, she’d put it on the shelf and deal with it tomorrow.

  “All set.” He displayed the key card.

  She’d been lost, tracing her fingers along the edge of the marble countertop and jumped, her mouth suddenly dry. “Great,” she squeaked.

  She attempted to reel in her sudden case of nerves. Staring up at him, she felt as if 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.”

  “Bandages, peroxide, antiseptic ointment. Tylenol. “She tried to think of what they’d need to tend to his wound.

  “Stop, Mom,” he chided her. “What can I get you?”

  “Umm.” A laundry list flashed…a very dirty laundry list, and she bit her lip. Sommer, not that one! “Let’s grab some toothbrushes.”

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

  Glinting heat darkened his eyes and made her breath quicken. She whispered back, “Not a few. Make sure it’s a big box, McLemore. Plus, everything I mentioned about bandages.”

  Chuckling, he kissed the side of her head and replied, “Will do, firecracker.”

  On the way to their pit stop, she paused. “This lobby is so different than anything I’ve seen back home. I want to remember it.”

  She swiped her fingers through the moist mist floating at the edge of the fountain in the center of the mezzanine, turning to Rory and planting a kiss on his full lips. For a beat they stood, observing the hustle-n-bustle. The lobby was jaw-dropping—from the pale pink marble floors to the massive columns and sleek velvet furniture with ornate chandelier
s overhead. She could sit and people-watch for hours in a place like this, if it were on any other night.

  Her mind flew. Sizzling darts tingled along her waist from his fingers. As he came up alongside her, his warm breath caressed her neck. “We’d better get going.”

  “Right.” She moved without looking where she was going. All at once, he pulled her back against his rock-hard body.

  “Whoa, sugar.” He laughed against the side of her head as a lady sauntered by with three snowy 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 observed, guiding her forward when the procession moved passed.

  She tugged on his hand to slow down in front of the vibrant floral spray that popped from the table. “These are gorgeous.” The flower arrangements were Facebook post worthy—if she’d had her phone. “Sorry about my cell. I forgot my charger. 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.”

  “Here. Charge whatever you want to the room. Unless you enjoy torturing me, get something less revealing.” Rory winked, fishing the hotel card out from his pocket. “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.”