Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  It was the most amazing, intense...

  I sighed.

  This weekend had the potential to be one of the best of my life. I might not be able to walk on Monday morning, but I knew Dax would make it worth it. I knew some people thought it was crazy to even consider having sex with only one person, but I was having a hard time believing that sex with Dax could ever get old.

  The door to the bathroom opened, and I rolled over to watch him walk back into the bedroom. All lean muscles and gorgeous skin. I never realized how danger and grace could go together until I saw him moving.

  When Dax reached down to pick up his jeans, I frowned.

  “Gavin and Carrie are still in California,” I reminded him. I pulled back the covers. “We have the whole place to ourselves this weekend. No check out time.”

  He didn't look at me as he pulled on his pants. “That sounds great, but I can't.”

  The stab of disappointment almost chased away all of the good I was still feeling. I didn't let it show though. “Something wrong?”

  He shook his head as he grabbed his shirt. “I just have to be up early.” Now he looked at me, his eyes dark. “Trust me, babe, if I stayed here neither one of us would be getting any sleep.”

  I swallowed hard. “I like the sound of that.”

  He gave me a half smile. “Trust me, babe, I'd like nothing more than to keep working that ass of yours until I'm buried deep inside it.”

  The muscle in question was sore, but I would've rolled over in a minute and begged to have him inside me if I thought he'd stay. Hell, I would've done it for a quickie. Absolutely nothing compared to having him inside me, driving me toward climax.

  He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. Compared to our other kisses, it was relatively chaste, but it still warmed me straight to my toes.

  “I really do need to get up early.” He straightened and pulled his shirt over his head.

  Part of me wondered if he'd change his mind if I told him I'd behave myself, and we would sleep. Literally. I just wanted him near me, wanted to have one night where we stayed together. Woke up together. I wanted to pretend, for one night, that I could have more with Dax.

  But I couldn't tell him any of that. Not only because the timing wasn't the best, but because I already knew what he would say. Maybe not the exact words, but I knew saying any of that to him would make him run. He wouldn't want to be anywhere near me if he thought I was pushing for something more.

  And I wasn't. Not exactly. I knew what we'd both said, and I wouldn’t go back on it, but the more time I spent, the deeper in I got. Things between us would change at some point, I knew that, but I wasn't ready for it to happen yet.

  “Are you working at the shop?” I asked, pulling the covers back over me. “I didn't think the club was open early.”

  “It's not,” he said. “But I won't be at the shop either. I have a few things I have to do.”

  I knew he was edging around the truth, trying not to lie to me but not being honest either. I could've called him on it, and I probably should have, but I didn't. I chose to go along with it and keep up the illusion a little longer.

  “Well, I'll have the place to myself for the rest of the weekend if you want to come by.” I smiled up at him, pushing aside all of the doubt I was feeling and showing only the warmth. “I'm not planning on going anywhere.”

  He turned, took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. “Are you planning on wearing clothes this weekend?”

  “Maybe.” I pushed myself up until I was sitting. “Probably depends on whether or not I invite anyone else over,” I teased.

  He crossed the distance back to me in three long strides. The look in his eyes made me catch my breath. His hand curled around the back of my neck, not tight enough to hurt, but enough that I could feel the strength there.

  “Nobody sees you naked but me.” His voice was harsh, demanding. “You understand?”

  If the words themselves hadn't made my stomach flip and my heart beat faster, the tone alone would've done it.

  “I understand,” I whispered.

  This kiss was anything but chaste. It was hot and hungry and made me want to pull Dax back into bed and beg him to do filthy, dirty things to me. It was the sort of kiss that made my head spin and would've made my knees weak if I were standing. It was the promise of a lifetime of the most intense, deviant, and delicious sex I could imagine. Of everything I could ever want...

  And would never have.

  Not with him.

  I'd known that from the first time we'd slept together, but it didn't make it any easier to watch him go and know that one of these times, it'd be the last, and I might not even know it was coming.

  Once I knew he'd had enough time to leave, I got out of bed, stripped the sheets, then headed for the shower. While my body wouldn't let me stop thinking about what the two of us had done, I didn't need the smell of sex surrounding me while I was trying to sleep. It would be hard enough to do that as it was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dax

  I'd done a lot of hard things in my life, a lot of things I didn't want to do, but leaving Bryne naked in her bed made the top of both lists. I kept telling myself not to get attached, but she was like some sort of drug. I'd never had a problem with addiction. Not alcohol, not pot, which were the only two drugs I'd ever used. But Bryne...she was something I couldn't shake.

  Even now as I waited for my stop, I wanted to go back. And it wasn't just about getting laid either. I meant what I said to her at the end, that no one got to see her naked except me. I could say it was a heat of the moment thing, that seeing her naked and wanting me made me say stuff I wouldn't normally say. Like how some people said stupid romantic shit they didn't mean.

  But I meant it. All of it. And not just for the immediate future either. It wasn’t just my usual not wanting to share while I was having my own fun. It'd been fury at the thought of anyone getting to see her that way, putting their hands on her.

  Ever.

  I didn't want her to be with anyone but me. I wanted to be the only one who knew what it was like to see her come. To know how tight she was. How she responded to having her ass spanked.

  That possessiveness freaked me out enough, but the second part had hit me while I was walking to the nearest subway station and made it worse. Something I either hadn't known or hadn't wanted to admit until now.

  I didn't want to be with anyone but her. I couldn’t say that I'd never want it. Forever was too fucking long to promise. But right now, I didn't have that restless feeling that I'd always gotten when I fucked the same girl more than a couple times. I didn't feel trapped like I had when Cleo had gotten clingy. If anything, I felt more comfortable the more time I spent with Bryne. Like I could tell her anything, and she wouldn't judge me.

  That was wishful thinking though. It was one thing for her to know I was into kinky sex and that I didn't have money. To see my tattoos and know that the guys I worked with at the shop could be assholes.

  It'd be a whole other story if she knew that I'd left her in bed so I could meet my ride to Jersey and go steal a bunch of cocaine. She'd never trust me again, and maybe that was the way things should be, but the thought of how she'd look at me, what she'd think, made me sick.

  It was a little past three-thirty when I made it to the shop, so I was early. I wasn't surprised that none of the other guys were there yet, but the door being locked was unexpected. Locking things up in Hell's Kitchen was always a good idea, but we'd never really bothered. Everyone around here knew the rumors about Booker taking out the DeMarco family so not many people would be stupid enough to try to rob him. The few crack heads who'd tried had disappeared.

  “Fucking bastards,” I muttered as I rubbed my hands together. “I'm going to freeze my fucking balls off out here.”

  I stomped my feet and tried not to think about how cold it was. The only place around here that was open this late was the Exotic Ladies' Club half a block down. Well, that a
nd the “massage parlor” connected to the peep show where a gentleman could go after watching some broad playing with herself for ten minutes. If he hadn't shot his load already.

  I wasn't going anywhere near either of those places. I had no problem with strip clubs and private lap dances, but the stuff that happened at places like that were more sleazy and shady than I was comfortable with. I didn't like the idea of the drug shit Booker wanted to get into, but prostitution was something I refused to get involved in.

  Growing up, there was this other kid who lived nearby who used to hang out with Georgie and me sometimes. I actually liked him better than Georgie, so when he suddenly disappeared, I'd complained to my mom, wanting to know where my friend had gone. I'd only been about eight or nine, but she'd sat me down and told me that my friend's mom had been a prostitute. And that some guy she'd gone to a hotel with had killed her. My friend was sent to live with his grandmother in Iowa. I never saw him again, and they never caught the guy who killed his mom.

  Some people might've thought that was too graphic for a kid to handle, but my mom used it as a lesson. She told me that I needed to be upfront with women and that if she ever caught me paying for sex, she'd cut my balls off. Well, not in those words exactly, but that was the gist of things. I still felt like grabbing my balls when I walked past a working girl.

  Right now, I wanted to grab my nuts for a whole other reason. They felt like they were frozen solid. I checked my phone and saw that barely ten minutes had passed. If I was lucky, Georgie and the guys would be on time, but they were almost always late. Which meant I’d probably be out here for another fifteen minutes.

  A gust of bitter wind made me pull up my hood. I cared less about looking like a badass at the moment than I did about hypothermia. Besides, no one looked badass with their teeth chattering.

  A noise made me turn, and I saw someone coming toward me. About my height and build, based on what I could see. When he got closer, I saw sandy-colored hair and green eyes...and enough of a resemblance to Booker to make a guess at who this guy was.

  Julius. Booker's cousin. The one who'd given us the information on the coke supplier.

  The supplier we were supposed to be ripping off in a few hours.

  “Where's my stuff?”

  Warning bells were going off all over the place. This wasn't a good place to have a confrontation. No lights. No cameras. No weapons. I didn't see him with one either, but that didn't help me much. My hands were so stiff from being out in the cold, I wasn't sure I could make a fist. If Julius came at me, I might be able to fight him off, but the guy was a drug dealer in Jersey. He wasn't some punk kid who I could lay out with a lucky punch.

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” I said. “I'm meeting some of the guys here in a couple minutes, and I don't even have keys to the shop.”

  “Don't fuck with me.” His voice had that same quality that Booker's did. The kind that said I was in serious shit.

  “I'm not.” I considered pulling out my hands, but I didn't want him to think I had a piece on me. “I don't use or hold.”

  He looked like he was about to say something, but then I heard a loud crack and something slammed into me. I had a moment of white hot pain before the ground was rushing up to meet me.

  Fuck. This was bad.

  Continues in Collide Vol. 4. Turn the page to keep reading.

  Collide Vol. 4

  Chapter One

  Dax

  Getting shot hurt like a motherfucker.

  On some level, I'd always known that it would. It wasn't like I ever thought it would tickle, but there was a huge difference between knowing it and experiencing it.

  Huge. Difference.

  I'd grown up in Hell's Kitchen. Got into my fair share of fights as a kid and as an adult. Most of the people I surrounded myself with had spent time in juvie or prison, usually both. They fought with their fists, knives, pipes, and whatever the hell else was lying around. Most of them carried guns, but I didn't. Having a gun meant charges were always worse. Better not to get caught at all, but playing it smart was always a good idea.

  Except I hadn't played it smart tonight, and now I was paying for it.

  I couldn't figure out where things had gone wrong, but I knew that wasn't the most important thing right now. Definitely not what I needed to be focusing on. I needed to get the hell out of here.

  If I could only remember where here was. My brain was so scrambled that, for a moment, I thought I'd gotten shot in the head, and this was what happened right before a person died. No life flashing before my eyes kind of shit, but rather a complete loss of everything that had made up my life.

  Fuck that.

  I wasn't going to let some punk end me. Not when I had people counting on me.

  Mom.

  Just thinking of her, fired another shot of adrenaline through my system, causing me to groan, not from pain, but fear. She couldn't lose me. Sure, she had friends, but I was her only family. I took care of her, and if I was gone, she wouldn't have that. Plus, it would break her to know I’d fallen so completely from everything she believed in.

  Sure, Carrie and Gavin might help, but it wouldn't be the same.

  Carrie.

  Gavin.

  Bryne.

  Shit.

  I had to get moving. Booker had threatened to hurt Bryne if I didn't help the gang with a job. I'd always managed to keep my nose clean when it came to the shady shit, but with Mom getting hurt at work and medical bills piling up, the risk had seemed worth it, and I’d actually considered putting my neck on the line. Then, when I wanted to back out, Booker had used Bryne against me.

  If anyone was the definition of innocent, it was her. Hell, she wasn't even twenty yet. She didn't need to get caught up in this shit. I'd tried to end it, to walk away, but I kept coming back to her. I'd been straight with her from the beginning, told her I didn't do relationships, and she hadn't argued. In fact, she agreed. But she'd done something to me, gotten under my skin, and I couldn't stay away.

  It was the memory of leaving her lying in her bed, smelling of sex and me, that got my brain working again. Lips swollen, bronze curls tangled. Green eyes dark with desire. Her hard nipples visible through the thin cotton sheets.

  I left her there because I was supposed to go to Jersey with the guys to rip off five hundred kilos of coke. So I'd gone to the shop.

  Right. The shop. That's where I was. Outside the shop.

  And suddenly I could feel the hard pavement under me, the icy January wind biting my skin.

  I was outside because the door had been locked. I'd been early too. Standing around waiting, trying to figure out what I was going to do. Then someone had shown up, but it hadn't been any of the guys.

  Julius.

  Right. The son of a bitch drug dealer from Jersey who'd inspired his cousin, Booker, to start moving cocaine through the shop. It was Julius's supplier who we were supposed to be stealing from, and I was pretty sure Julius had been the one who shot me.

  Even though it felt like an eternity had passed, as the rest of my senses started coming back to me, I realized it'd only been a minute or so since it happened. My side was burning, but the pain had been covered in layers of adrenaline. I could think again, function.

  And I needed to get the hell out of here.

  I was still lying on the pavement, which meant Julius hadn't finished me off yet. I didn't know if it was because he didn't want to waste another bullet or some other reason, but I wasn't going to let him know I was still alive until absolutely necessary.

  So I listened.

  “I told you to wait for my signal.”

  A man's voice. Annoyed, but still in control. I didn't know who he was talking to, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that there were at least two people here, maybe more. I was pretty sure the guy talking was Julius, which meant he wasn’t the one who shot me.

  All he seemed to care about, though, was that the shooter hadn't waited for the go ahead. Which m
eant Julius had wanted me dead. The timetable was the only thing that hadn't gone according to plan.

  I really needed to get out of here.

  I listened harder, trying to figure out where Julius and the shooter were standing.

  “If you killed him, I'm going to do to you everything I had planned for him.”

  Torture first, then death. That had been the plan.

  Perfect.

  I risked opening my eyes, then winced as sweat dripped into them. No, not sweat. I wasn't hot, and the liquid was. Blood. And now that I thought about it, I did have a dull, throbbing ache in my forehead. I must've hit my head when I fell.

  I opened my eyes again, squinting as they began to water. I wanted to wipe them, but I was pretty sure I had blood on at least one of my hands thanks to the wound in my side. It wasn't gushing, but there was more than I was comfortable losing.

  Whoever Julius was talking to gave an answer, but the voice was too low for me to make out the words, or even identify who was speaking.

  “This is your mess,” Julius said. “Finish him and then we'll go have a talk with my cousin.”

  The shooter said something else, but I still couldn't hear it.

  “Enough!” Julius snapped. “It's not my fault you fucked up. I don't care why you did it. Just fix it.”

  I could see them now, or rather, see their outlines in the shadows. The shooter was shorter than Julius but bundled up enough that I couldn't tell if the asshole was a man or a woman. While I wanted to know who it was, I was glad they were several yards away. It put more distance between them and me, which meant I just might make it out of here alive.

  Now I just needed to figure out how to put more distance between us. I'd been pacing the space for a while before Julius showed up, so now I racked my brain to try to remember what I'd seen around me before I was shot. It was easier than I thought.