THE DADDY NEXT DOOR: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Heaven’s Horns MC)

by Nicole Fox

  Davis laughed. “All I’m doing is helping her to make the right decision. Besides, she doesn’t need my help ruining her reputation. You two did that for me, all on your own.”

  Diane stepped in between the two of them, no emotion on her pretty face. “Davis, Logan. Both of you shut up before I throw you both out of my house.”

  But Logan could no longer hear her, no longer see her. All that was left was the sound of his blood boiling in his veins, the tunnel of red around his vision that cut out all of the world except for Davis.

  “I’m going to kill him.” Without his permission, Logan’s feet started to move toward him, his body an unstoppable train. He walked around Diane, her protests falling on deaf ears.

  Davis’s stupid, childish face looked so smug. Logan was ready to punch that expression right off of his spoiled little mug; this would be a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. But as he reached Davis, his hands balled into fists and his face full of rage, Francesca’s voice cut through his mind. “You shouldn’t be fighting Davis; you’re only giving him what he wants,” her voice said, so clear that he was tempted to look around and see if she was actually in the room.

  Sighing, Logan turned away from Davis, his voice still trembling with rage. “Look, man, say what you want, but Francesca doesn’t want you here anymore; she’s tired of being with a cheating, lying sack of spoiled shit. So just go, okay? You’re not going her any good by being here.”

  But it was pretty clear, at least to Logan, that Davis didn’t care about Francesca’s feelings at all. Especially when Davis took a swing at him, his fist barely missing as Logan jumped back. “Stop it, Davis, or I will kick your ass.”

  But Davis swung again, and Logan put up his fists. He wasn’t going to stand here and let this asshole take swings at him. So he swung a fist out, hooking his arm, aiming for the little prick’s temple, hoping to end it quick.

  Despite his lack of skill, Davis was fast. He ducked away from Logan’s fist, sliding across the floor and swinging his arms like a cartoon at Logan’s back.

  Someone screamed, something broke. The sounds of glass shattering filled the room, but still Logan kept his eyes locked on his prey.

  “What is going on here? Stop!” Francesca’s voice said from behind Logan. Instantly, he backed away from Davis, keeping his hands in a defensive position. But Davis wasn’t going to give up. He followed him back, his limbs swinging around in an imitation of karate movies that would have made Logan laugh if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

  “I said stop!” Francesca was in between them, putting her face violently into theirs. Davis pushed her aside, his eyes only for Logan. “YOU CAN’T PUSH ME, DAVIS; I’M PREGNANT,” Francesca suddenly screamed.

  But still, Davis remained focused only on Logan.

  Logan’s concentration, however, was completely gone. He turned to Francesca, his eyes huge in his face. “You’re what?”

  A fist came from his right side, smashing into his temple with the force of a car crash. The last noise Logan heard before the world went black was Davis chuckling.

  The little asshole thought he won.

  Perhaps he had.

  Chapter Thirty

  Francesca

  “Well, if nothing else, you won that horrible bet you made with your brother.” Diane was sitting on the outdoor couch, looking out across her land, a cigarette between two fingers. Back when Francesca was a child, Diane had been a hand model; it was the way she’d started her strange career. Her hands were still very beautiful, even though age was starting to swell her joints ever so slightly. Before all that, they had been a normal, middle class family, until her mother married some rich old man for his money.

  The Savoy Empire had been built off of that foundation, exploding into the reality show and fashion empire the world knew today.

  Francesca wished none of it had ever happened. She wanted to be an anonymous girl without a string of reporters looking for her every fault. She wanted the cameras out of her face, to not be followed around by paparazzi like ducklings after their mother.

  They sat in silence for a long time. Francesca didn’t care that she’d won the bet with Marston. She didn’t care about the extra money coming to her; no matter how many zeroes she added to her bank account, none of it mattered.

  Logan…

  But he wasn’t the father that her child needed. He’d proven himself unable to stay out of a fight for five minutes. The damned cameras had eaten it up, but Francesca could feel the stress of it filling her veins. No matter how unhappy it made her, her unborn child mattered more than what her heart told her.

  It was time to let Logan Pendergrass go.

  There was only one man who could make her feel more secure, who could give her baby the father it deserved. There was only one who could fix her reputation, too, putting her career and her show back on track this season. The market research was clear.

  That man was Davis Thorne.

  Sneering, Francesca threw her head back against the couch, her hand automatically going to her belly. She knew she wouldn’t feel anything just yet, kicking under the surface of her skin, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from trying.

  Diane was studying her when Francesca looked back over at her mother. “What is it?” she asked quietly, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “What are you going to do now?” Diane looked like she was aching to tell Francesca exactly what to do, mostly out of habit, but was holding back to see what she’d decide on her own. Smoke spilled out of her nose and mouth.

  Francesca glanced down at her shoes. “I’m going to put my life and reputation back together. If the show wants Davis, we’ll give them Davis back. I’m going to build a family for the TV audience until they love me again.” She sounded a little like a robot saying it, her voice empty and lifeless. “I need to put everything back together,” she repeated, more like she was trying to convince herself rather than her mother.

  Diane frowned, taking another long pull on her smoke. The acidic smelling scent of the cigarette reminded her acutely of Logan; it cut deep into her ribs, piercing her heart. But she ignored the pain. She had to look forward to the future.

  The pain would fade soon, leaving her with nothing but wonderful memories and a quiet life with her child.

  And soon, Logan would forget her, too.

  # # #

  Logan

  “I’ll never get her out of my head.” Logan took a long swig from the Jack Daniel’s bottle, drowning his sorrows in deep brown liquor. Even after a good part of the bottle, the pain of losing Francesca still cut him deeply. He was bleeding out all over the dirty carpet of this shitty motel room, his heart empty of anything but pain.

  “I should apologize for everything I’ve done.” But he remembered Francesca’s wild outburst, her screaming at him. “How dare you start a fist fight like a criminal in my house!”

  Francesca was right; she didn’t need a loser like him tangling up her life. She didn’t want a criminal for a husband or a biker for a father.

  After he’d woken from Davis’s sucker punch, he’d looked over to the couch, finding Davis comforting Francesca as she cried. She’d let him. She’d let Davis fucking Thorne comfort her after their fight. That he had started.

  It was proof that Logan didn’t belong in Francesca’s glittering, intense world. He belonged back on the east coast, no matter how much it felt like his heart was being torn from his chest. Pressing his face into his hands, Logan could feel bile rising in his throat. “She wants a man like Davis, who will help to put her name and her life back together. At least for the crowds.”

  Although he knew that Davis would never make Francesca happy, he was too selfish and slimy, at least her sterling reputation would be buffed of all of its tarnish with Davis’s squeaky clean reputation. He may have been an asshole, but he was a law-abiding, charity-running asshole that the public adored.

  It was pretty obvious that “the public” had never met him. If they had,
they wouldn’t think such nice things about him.

  All that left Logan alone in a dirty hotel room, waiting for his flight out the next day.

  “I can’t let it end like this. She deserves an apology.”

  Screwing the top back on his bottle of liquor, Logan dialed her number from the hotel’s phone. He felt dizzy with regret.

  “Francesca,” a familiar voice said on the other line, her voice empty. She sounded hollow, and Logan’s soul cried out at the sound of that beautiful voice gone flat.

  “Don’t hang up, Francesca. I just want to — Come by my hotel, without the cameras. I want to say goodbye.”

  There was silence for a long time on the other end. After a million years of nothing, her voice finally came back on the phone. “Alright, Logan. Give me the address. I will meet you in an hour.”

  After they hung up, Logan sat down on the bed in the musty old hotel room, staring at the door and waiting.

  She would come soon.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Francesca

  Francesca stood in front of the hotel room number that Logan had given her, feeling like she was tearing herself to pieces for this meeting. Her hand was poised to knock, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Seeing him one last time: is it worth the pain?

  “Yes,” she realized after a moment. “I want to see him again, this once. I need to memorize the lines of his face, the sound of his voice.”

  Even though it pulled at her heart to do it, Francesca knocked, holding her breath as she waited for him to answer. When Logan opened the door, she still wasn’t quite ready to see him again. It hurt to see his face, so empty and lifeless. The chiseled jaw of his was tight, his eyes void of emotion.

  Logan gestured for her to come in, closing the door behind them. Francesca turned to him, but Logan had pressed his forehead to the hotel’s door like he couldn’t stand to see her face again.

  Foundations crumbling under her feet, Francesca had to force herself to stand up straight, to look him right in the eye when he turned around to face her.

  “I’m sorry, Francesca. I’m sorry for everything. I — You were owed an apology, in person.” Logan stepped away from the door and turned around, his eyes like ice. She swallowed hard, but managed to keep her eyes locked with his. “I never should have come home with you; I never wanted to make your life harder. I’m going to leave, go back home to the MC.”

  She was quiet for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice came out ragged and unhappy. “I don’t — I mean, thank you. For the apology. I never wanted to — ” she started, then stopped, unable to keep talking. Tears overwhelmed her, cutting off her words.

  “It’s okay, Francesca. I’m going to find something to do with my life that will make you and our child proud, even if you don’t want me as part of both of your lives.”

  Hearing him speak so nonchalantly about their child carved deep cracks into her heart, wounds that would likely never heal. “I want you part of your child’s life, Logan, but not until you clean your act up. I can’t have a criminal around my kid that thinks nothing of starting fist fights in my living room. That’s not a role model.”

  “I agree. I’m going to do whatever it takes.” Logan stepped toward her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her face. Francesca had to close her eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers, blocking the sight of him so close to her. But there wasn’t anything she could do about the scent of him, the spicy cigarette smell that permeated his skin. She inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he smelled, so close to her as he was now.

  Because after this, she would most likely never see him again.

  “Promise me you’ll give me a chance to prove myself,” he whispered. Before she could answer, his lips eased over hers, his fingers buried deep in her hair. She wanted to push him away, lecture him about how inappropriate this kiss was in their situation, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  This was the last time they would be together, and she decided to let him have her one more time.

  His mouth traced every inch of her, his arms and hands wrapping close, massaging her skin. Shivering, Francesca cried out his name again as they came together, bodies pressing close. Mouths pressed together not in hunger, but in quiet contemplation. There was silence between them; no words passed their lips. There was nothing that could be said to make the situation any better than it was.

  Francesca sat down in his lap, her naked legs wrapped close around his waist. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she held him close, feeling the head of his cock probe her willing opening. She wrapped her arms close around him, pressing her face into his muscled shoulder.

  They moved together, Logan wrapped tight around her like bonds. For the last time in her life, Francesca felt whole, protected. She felt loved and cherished. Every inch of Logan’s body seemed to worship hers, his eyes lit up with awe at her body and her soul.

  Nothing was as bitterly beautiful as this moment. Never again would Francesca hold him, but this was the perfect memory to carry with her for the rest of her miserable life. Francesca wished he could stay, that they could build the life together she had always dreamed of. But he was a bad boy on a bike, and nothing in the world could change that. And although his rebel image lit her body on fire, bad boys made bad fathers. It was time to let him go, for good.

  I love you. She tried to whisper it, but the words wouldn’t come. They hid behind her tongue as she moaned instead, feeling the length of him slide in and out of her willing body. She was hungry for him, and wanted to feel every last inch of him. She wanted to feel the hot splash of his cum inside, feel the feather-light caresses of his fingers down her back.

  He gave her all of that and more. So much more…

  # # #

  Logan

  “I’m sorry, Francesca. I’m sorry I’m not who you wanted me to be. That I’ll never be the right man for you.”

  Francesca was straddling his hips with her perfect legs, her face buried in the curve of his shoulder. All he could do was hold her, make love to her, and then let her go. But he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet; first, he needed to make her cry his name. No matter what, he wouldn’t leave her without pleasing her first. One last time.

  He couldn’t tell her how much he cared, he couldn’t explain what was spilling through his mind, but he could show her. He kissed his message into every inch of her skin, his mouth drawing out moans and gasps of pleasure that filled him with lust, love, and something bittersweet.

  I love you, Francesca. I’m so sorry… He traced the words across her breasts with his mouth, caressing and teasing, making her gasp as his tongue brushed over the tips of her nipples.

  Laying her down across the bed, Logan looked down on her with a sadness that filled his chest to bursting. She lay before him, spread wide and welcoming, her pussy dripping juices onto the bed’s sheets. Her hooded eyes were glittering with pleasure. Her perfect breasts formed peaks in the cool air, her usually tidy blonde hair tangled on his pillow.

  A pink blush lit up her whole body, her arousal bringing her blood to the surface of her skin. He ran his eyes over every line of her, painting the portrait of her body on his mind to pull out and admire when she was long gone from him.

  Then, he leaned forward and pressed a passionate kiss to her clit, exciting a yip of pleasure from her perfect, pink, cupid’s bow lips. Her eyes closed, tears spilling from the corners, dragging her mascara down the sides of her face in two, dark lines.

  She shivered with emotion as Logan licked all the places she liked to be licked, sliding over her and inside of her until she shook with it, shouting his name with all of abandon he’d wanted to give her.

  Eyes glowing with desire, Francesca tackled him to the bed, throwing her legs over her hips and piercing herself, sliding his cock into her unbelievably tight womanhood. She still throbbed with the ache of her last orgasm. It was perfect.

  Then she was off, riding him with fervor. She thr
ew her head back, her hands cupping her own breasts as she cried his name. Logan took firm hold of her undulating hips and guided her body as she pumped him furiously, her pussy clinging to him as though begging him never to leave.

  When they came, they came together, the world shattering around them like a stained glass window, the pieces of the world glittering in the brilliant light of their love. They collapsed to the bed, sweat-soaked and panting. Words that couldn’t be spoken tainted their lips, and both remained silent.

  When the shattered world began to put itself back together again, Francesca got up. Tears slid from her beautiful, green eyes as she found all of her clothing, putting each piece back on as Logan watched from the bed.