Sex On The Beach: Bad Boys Club Romance #1

by Olivia Thorne

  Katie couldn’t give a damn about any of that. She was as far removed from the day-to-day rumor mill and celebrity obsession of Los Angeles as you could possibly get.

  San Francisco women seemed bitter about men in general. And obsessed with how much money you made, because they reeeaaally wanted a house in Palo Alto, where the cheapest one-story ranches went for $3.5 million.

  I realize all my generalizations are completely unfair. I’m sure there are a ton of women in San Francisco and LA who are incredible. And I suppose it’s my fault for living in a bubble where I only associated with people who were like me.

  Which gave me pause… because the one thing all those women had in common was me.

  Maybe that’s why Katie was such a breath of fresh air. She was different from me in so many different ways. Educated, yes, but not in tech. Totally different background. Small-town America versus big-city California.

  (Yes, I’m aware Wichita is hardly a small town – but when your metropolitan area has fewer people in it than a couple square miles of Los Angeles, then you’re close enough to a small town for me.)

  If I’m going to be really honest, there are a lot of things about me that aren’t so pleasant. I can be a real dick sometimes. Moody and self-centered and grumpy.

  Katie wasn’t like that. She would get angry if I stepped over a line, and she could get intensely emotional – but she never used sarcasm as a weapon, or manipulation to get what she wanted. Other than that whole business about her ex-fiancé, she was open and honest, almost to a fault.

  I couldn’t say that about most of my male friends, let alone the women I’d dated.

  I made fun of her about being from Kansas, but to tell the truth, I wondered if growing up in a small city had inoculated her against the rampant me-me-me-ism I saw in so many women – and maybe even myself.

  But that’s where the problem lay: I was still me, and I’d experienced a shit-ton of bad things. One horrifically bad thing in particular.

  And that one bad thing made it hard for me to trust women easily. Maybe even trust them ever again.

  I was worried about how learning about my money might affect her. If she really knew who I was, or how much I was worth…

  Plenty of other women had only been interested in that house in Palo Alto, or what I could do for their movie careers.

  That’s why I didn’t tell her. That’s why I kept my secret.

  But it was starting to weigh on me.

  Especially when she looked at me with those trusting eyes, and I knew I wasn’t being open with her.

  It was killing me… but I kept silent nonetheless.

  55

  Even if you couldn’t share it with the woman you were falling in love with, there was one upside to being extremely wealthy: hiring your own private security team.

  It came in handy one night when we were coming back from the crack cocaine ice cream parlor. We were strolling along, laughing and trying to lick our cones before they melted, when I got an uneasy feeling.

  As we turned the corner onto my street, I glanced over my shoulder.

  About seventy-five feet back, three figures were following us at a distance.

  In the glow of a window, I could tell that one of them was a white kid with cornrows.

  Shit.

  I’d been so happy the last two weeks that I’d completely forgotten about them. The cops had never called to follow up, but I’d just assumed they’d picked them up at some point and would call when they finally got around to prosecuting them.

  Guess not.

  We were about a hundred feet from my rental house.

  “Let’s go down to the beach!” I yelled out in a happy voice, loud enough that anybody within a hundred feet could have easily heard me.

  Katie looked at me strangely, then laughed. My out-of-nowhere cheerfulness and Vic-like speaking volume was unusual, but she seemed to accept it as just ‘one of those things.’

  “…uh, okay,” she agreed.

  There was about two hundred feet between my place and the boardwalk. In that two hundred feet were a lot more shadows and one huge, sketchy alley. The thugs had plenty of time to pick us off – if we actually walked down to the beach.

  That wasn’t my plan at all.

  I got my keys out of my pocket and strained my ears for the sound of running feet behind us. I didn’t hear anything.

  Good. They were waiting, biding their time.

  If need be, I’d fight them – but if everything went according to plan, that wouldn’t be necessary. My only concern was whether or not they had a gun.

  Once we reached my house, I pushed Katie up against the six-foot high fence as though I was going to kiss her.

  “What are you doing?!” she asked, giggling, as I leaned in.

  But really, I was just using our bodies to shield my right hand as I slipped the key in the lock.

  “Just listen and do exactly what I say,” I whispered. “When I open the gate, take the keys, run inside the house, lock yourself in, and call the cops.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “What?!”

  But by that point I’d flung the gate open wide.

  I hauled her inside, slammed the gate closed, and shoved the keys into her hand.

  “RUN!” I yelled.

  Outside on the street came the sounds of pounding footsteps.

  Katie looked at me in fear.

  “GO!” I shouted.

  She turned and fled, dropping her ice cream cone on the ground.

  I looked down, saw a rock the size of a baseball sitting in a flower bed, and picked it up.

  That’ll do.

  Katie was already at the front door and scrambling to unlock it when the first blows came on the other side of the fence.

  She turned around in terror.

  “IAN!” she screamed.

  “GO!” I shouted at her.

  She got the door open, but she didn’t go inside. “IAN, RUN!”

  Hands appeared on the top of the gate, like someone was trying to climb over –

  I slammed the rock down on them as hard as I could, and the owner yowled in pain. The fingers slipped out of sight.

  Unfortunately, the next pair of fingers appeared fifteen feet further down the fence.

  “I’ve got a gun!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  All of a sudden, there was a chorus of voices on the other side of the fence.

  “HE GOT A GUN!”

  “RUN, MAN, RUN!”

  “OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT – ”

  The hands disappeared, and footsteps tore down the street as fast as they could go.

  Katie stared at me. “What did you do?!”

  “Go call the cops,” I said, motioning her inside.

  “Did you shoot them?!”

  I gave her an Are you kidding me? look. “Did you hear me shoot them?”

  “No, but – why’d they run away, then?”

  “I guess they believed me. Go call the cops!”

  “Come inside!” she pleaded.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” I said as I opened the gate.

  “IAN, NO!” she screamed.

  “It’s fine – call the cops!” I ordered, and closed the gate behind me as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  I heard her panicked voice on the phone with the police, though she still didn’t close the front door.

  Stubborn.

  Right in front of my house sat a black panel van. Its side door opened to reveal a muscular bald guy dressed all in black with a shotgun in his arms.

  I put a finger to my lips, and he nodded.

  “We scared them off, sir,” he whispered.

  “Thanks. Is somebody following them?”

  “Yeah, we called our mobile team. They’ll follow them and tase them, then hand them over to the cops.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “The cops won’t have a problem with that?”

  “One of the guys tailing them was in the LAPD for fifteen years. He’ll smo
oth it over.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sorry, Mr. McLaren, we didn’t know they were a problem, or we would have intervened sooner.”

  “Not your fault. I forgot all about them – I was thinking the problem was her ex-fiancé, not those assholes.” I turned back towards the gate, then remembered something. “When you talk to the cops, remember to tell them that I don’t want my, uh, lady friend knowing about your guys’ involvement.”

  “You got it, sir.”

  “And keep your eyes open – the ex is still around.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. McLaren.”

  I nodded, then opened the gate and went back inside.

  Katie was still at the door on the phone. She started crying when she saw me. “Oh my God – PLEASE come inside!”

  “Okay, okay!” I said as I jogged up the steps, swept her inside, and locked the door behind us. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. It’s fine.”

  She hugged me tight and buried her face in my chest. “Was that them? The guys from that first night?”

  “Yes. But the cops are going to get them this time.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I have a feeling.”

  “Please don’t ever do that again.”

  “What, try to keep you safe?”

  She looked up at me, tears shining in her eyes. “I get what you were doing when we stopped at the gate, but you should have come inside with me.”

  I smoothed her hair and smiled at her. “Okay… there won’t be a next time, but if there is, I promise I’ll stay with you.”

  She laid her head against my chest again. “Thank you.”

  We stood like that, holding each other and her refusing to let me go, until the cops came.

  They’d caught the thugs about six blocks away. All three were wanted on arrest warrants for assault and robbery, so we probably wouldn’t even have to go to court to testify against them.

  Also, the cops never mentioned the former military guys in black who’d had the three punks trussed up on the sidewalk like Christmas turkeys.

  56

  Katie told Aisha all about it the next day, and suddenly I was a big hero. I stayed modest and told them the truth – that law enforcement had done all the hard work – but it didn’t matter. I got treated like a king for a couple of days.

  Sex was even more amazing after the ‘incident.’ She stared into my eyes the entire time we made love – which was hotter than I could have possibly imagined. Watching her come and hearing her moan was always a huge turn-on for me – but watching her come as we stared at each other? Seeing her eyes roll back into her head as she tried so hard to keep her gaze locked on mine? It was almost spiritual, like nothing I’d ever experienced during sex before.

  I made her come over and over, and kept from coming myself, just so I could see the ecstasy in her eyes as she stared into mine.

  When I finally came, I did the same: I looked into her eyes – and then she climaxed at the same time, too. I swear, it was almost a religious experience. Afterwards we just lay there in each other’s arms, staring deeply into each other’s eyes, kissing every few minutes and stroking each other’s skin, but not saying a word.

  I never wanted it to end.

  Which is pretty much how I felt about the entire two weeks.

  All in all, I was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. Completely in love, completely at peace, and completely fulfilled. Two weeks of utter bliss with the woman I loved.

  Shortly after that is when it all went to hell.

  57

  Katie

  We were watching a movie at my house one night – me, Ian, and Aisha – when there was a knock at the door.

  “Who’s that?” Aisha frowned as she got up.

  My stomach immediately knotted up in fear. I looked over at Ian –

  He squinted his eyes and shook his head, like Naaaah. “Don’t worry.”

  “How do you know it’s not Rick?” I whispered.

  “Because I know.”

  “I’m still gonna hide until I know for sure.”

  He swept his hand out like Be my guest.

  I ran for the kitchen, then peeked around the corner to watch.

  Aisha opened the front door. “Uh… can I help you?”

  A familiar voice boomed out, “Hey beautiful! Is Ian here?”

  Ian closed his eyes. “Oh God.”

  “There he is!” Vic stuck his beaming, bearded face around the doorjamb. “I’d know that disgusted sigh anywhere!”

  Ian glared at him.

  “Mind if I come in?” Vic asked Aisha nonchalantly as he barged right past her.

  “I mind,” Ian snapped.

  “It’s not even your house, bro. Excuse me – brah.” He lowered his voice to a very audible stage whisper and jerked his head back towards Aisha. “Another hottie on the side? Does Surfer Girl know?”

  I stepped out of the kitchen. “Yes, I do.”

  Vic rubbed his hands together. “Ooooh – kinky.”

  Aisha closed the door and looked at Vic like she didn’t quite know what to think of him – which was understandable. Walking in the door like that might have been rude, but he was very good-looking, incredibly buff, and had a massive amount of charisma.

  Which helped aid and abet his assholish womanizing, I suppose.

  “Who’s this?” Aisha asked.

  “A pain in my ass,” Ian grumbled.

  Mine, too, I thought.

  “What do you want?” I asked Vic.

  “To invite you to a wedding,” he replied.

  I frowned. “Whose, yours?”

  He doubled over laughing. “Hahahahahahahaha!”

  When he finally stopped, he wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh my God, that was funny. No, no – a mutual friend’s.”

  “Who?” Ian asked.

  “Jim Hoffman. You remember him?”

  Ian grimaced. “He and I aren’t friends.”

  “Maybe not, but a lot of cool people are going to be there. You should come.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I think so,” Vic said cheerily, and flopped down on the couch next to Ian.

  “Who’s Jim Hoffman?” I asked.

  “An old acquaintance from the Bay Area,” Ian said quickly, like he was trying to cut Vic off at the pass.

  I was going to remark on it, but Aisha’s eyes bugged out and she babbled, “Wait a second – isn’t he, like, the owner of that streaming site? They’re giving Amazon and Hulu a run for their money with new content!”

  “One and the same,” Vic beamed.

  I turned to Aisha. “How do you know that?”

  “Everybody in Hollywood knows that,” she said, like I was the high school girl too uncool to know that her outfit was passé.

  Vic yawned. “Yeah, Jim’s talking to Spielberg about producing a miniseries, and he’s trying to get Pitt, Clooney, and Damon to team up again… you in the Industry?” he asked Aisha.

  ‘The Industry’ was LA-speak for the movie business.

  So pretentious.

  But Aisha got that look in her eye like when she talked about her ten million dollar script and Kerry Washington. “Yes I am.”

  “Well then, you should totally go to this reception,” Vic said. “Everybody’s going to be there. I could introduce you to some major players.”

  “I can… I can go?” she asked, clutching her chest with one hand.

  “Sure,” Vic said. “You should come. You can be my plus-one.”

  “Don’t you have 15 other plus-ones off of Instagram?” Ian asked snarkily.

  “Of course not,” Vic said, totally nonchalant. “I was planning on hooking up at the reception.”

  “You are not trying to sleep with my roommate,” I snapped.

  Aisha gave me a look like Shut up, dummy!

  I’m sure she was thinking, If this dude can hook me up with a guy who knows Spielberg and George Clooney, ANYTHING’S on the table!

  But she didn’t know who she w
as dealing with.

  Vic turned around to Aisha. “Well, I mean, if you’re down, I’m totally down.” Then he turned back to me. “But I just thought you’d like it more if a friend of yours was there.”

  “We’re not going,” Ian said.

  “You should. It’d save the Pope a visit out here, and you know how much he values his time.”

  Ian closed his eyes and looked like he was in pain. “…damn it.”

  My mouth dropped open. “The Pope is going to be there?”

  “No,” Ian said darkly. “But the Devil is.”

  Vic made a face. “That’s a hell of a way to talk about a guy who invested – ”

  “WE’LL GO,” Ian snapped, cutting him off before he could finish.

  That was the second time he’d tried to stop Vic from saying something.

  “Invested what?” I asked suspiciously.

  “His time and energy in helping me out,” Ian said, and glared at Vic. “We’ll go.”

  Vic grinned. “Good. It’s this Saturday at one – it’s gonna be at Jim’s mansion in Bel Air. Like the Fresh Prince. It’ll be great.” He stood up from the couch, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Aisha. “That’s the address on the back – don’t let Ian get his hands on it, he’ll conveniently ‘lose’ it.”

  “What about the wedding?” I asked. “Are they getting married at the house?”

  “Naaah, it’s at some cathedral or something.” Vic flapped his hand like Pshaw. “That’s the boring part. Just show up at the reception. Dom Perignon and Cristal out the wazoo, Kobe beef and lobster… it’ll be great.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really.”

  “Really.” He pointed at Aisha and Ian as he walked towards the door. “See you Saturday, Plus One. And you – buy a suit, buddy.” He smirked. “If you can’t afford it, let me know.”

  As Vic was opening the door, Ian stood up, too. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Not necessary, brah.”

  “Oh, it’s very necessary,” Ian snapped as he rounded the couch and followed Vic outside.