Trouble: A BWWM Bad-Boy Billionaire Romance (5 page)

W
hen class was over
, I pulled out my phone. There wasn't anything from Trouble. I felt a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Did he not like my curt response?

I blinked. Maybe he was in class like I was. I didn't know.

Andrea and I walked out together to grab some lunch. Yes, it was early in the morning, but we needed more food. Andrea was practically dead on her feet.

"Let's get Chipotle."

"Okay." She yawned.

We both got burrito bowls with fajita vegetables and sofritas. Sofritas just tasted like chunky tomato sauce, honestly, but in LA, there was an absolute vegan craze. I was a weekday vegan, getting my protein from tofu, lentils, beans, and Beyond Meat. On weekends, I ate steak, burgers, chicken, fish, everything. It had led to a surprising amount of weight loss, which is why I kept up with it, even though I had cravings for chicken pretty much every weekday.

Andrea was more genuinely vegan. She worried about helpless little animals, a concern that I did not share. 

When I was little, we went to Mexico. We went to a farm to table place. Dad had to walk around a yard full of chickens and choose one. As soon as he pointed, the farmer/restaurateur immediately picked up the chicken and snapped its neck in a Mexican towel snap.

I cried. As an American, I was highly insulated from death. Meat came in plastic-wrapped containers from the grocery store, not living beings.

Dad made me eat the chicken anyway.

"You might as well learn about death someday, sweetheart."

I ate that poor, defenseless bird with tears running down my face. But it had desensitized me to the idea of animals being killed for my consumption. 

Andrea had a text conversation with David all through lunch. I scrolled around my Feedly, reading all the news stories.

We went to our literature class, and Trouble still didn't text me.

We got home, and I was an anxious bundle of nerves. I took a shower and tried to relax.

I came out of the shower wrapped in a towel. If Andrea was going to flash me, I could walk around in a towel.

"What should I wear?"

"Hmm..." Andrea got up from her laptop, where she was doing her essay, and she went to my closet. "Honey, you barely have anything to choose from."

"I know. That's why I've been stealing from your closet. By the way, give me the dress you were wearing last night. I'll get your dresses dry cleaned. Thanks for lending it to me."

"Anytime, sugar, especially if you're going to take care of the dry cleaning." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Now, what should you wear today? How about this?"

She pulled out a sequined red dress.

"Um, I don't think that's me. That's more you." That dress screamed 'seductress' while I wanted to whisper 'hello.'

"Okay, how about this?" It was a strapless turquoise bandage dress.

"Honey, I can't pull that off. I have way more curves than you do."

She looked at my boobs. "Hm. Ok." She rummaged around in her closet a little more. "I got it. You can't turn this one down."

She pulled out a turquoise dress with criss-crossed straps. While it was pretty, it didn't scream 'harlot' like the other dresses. I nodded. She put it over my chair.

I put on a robe and underwear and tried to concentrate on my own essay. I got my first draft done, but I was sure that it was garbage. I was thinking about Trouble the whole time. I knew that he had to like me, if he was going through the effort to take me on dates without having sex with me. I didn't know why, though. I was obviously willing to sleep with him, but when I slept in his bed, the only thing we did was sleep. I don't think he even kissed me, though, granted, my memory of that night was not perfect.

I had just gotten started on my multivariate calculus homework when my phone buzzed.

Can I come earlier?

I checked the clock. It was 5.

Of course

I heard the roar of a motorcycle as Trouble crossed the street.

I threw on the turquoise dress.

"Zip me up."

"Leaving already?" Andrea arched a brow.

"Yup. Don't wait up tonight." I winked.

"Get it!"

I
walked
down the stairs quickly in my black wedges, and I went out to his motorcycle. A dress and wedges weren't the perfect choice, but I'd make it work.

"Hey," he said. He pulled out his helmet. "Let's go."

I put on the helmet. I had thought ahead this time and had a ponytail holder. The first time that I put the helmet on, it smushed my pony uncomfortably. I had to redo my ponytail so that it was at the base of my neck.

When I was done, I got on his bike and held on. I liked holding him in my arms and smelling his unique, spicy scent. I didn't even ask where we were going this time. I just hung on and enjoyed the ride. Something about Trouble made me throw my cares and planning to the wind.

He parked his motorcycle outside of the Getty.

"Oh my gosh, I love the Getty."

"My dad always donates a ton of money here. I have some access."

I blinked. "Like what kind of access?"

He just grinned. "You'll see."

He put his hand around my waist and pulled me into the museum.

Inside, there was a docent.

"Hello, Mr. McKane. Miss. I'll be your guide today."

I'd been on guided tours before, but nothing like this. I knew that Trouble's dad was a philanthropist, but that's normally just something that you put on your resume to look better. Dad took special interest in education and sports programs for at-risk youth, but he didn't go in for the flashy donations to universities, ballets, or operas. As the daughter of Hudson and Jalanda King, I had never experienced stuff like this.

I watched in absolute awe as I walked behind the scenes. The front of museums always has all the exhibits. The back corridors are where the magic happens. There were tons of people back there. I passed a room where people were carefully sorting through some Egyptian artifacts, and then we went through another where they were preparing a Greek statue for an exhibit. It was gorgeous. I'd never been so close to art before.

When we had walked around the museum, I was tired. The docent brought us to a small room.

"We've prepared the dinner you requested, sir. I hope you enjoy it, miss." The docent nodded his head at us, and he left.

"After you," Trouble said, being an absolute gentleman.

I walked in, and the first thing I saw was a candle. It was in the center of a table that had fresh roses on it. There were salads at our plates, and a sideboard had silver covers on more food.

I brought my hands up to my mouth. "Oh my gosh, Trouble. This is gorgeous. It's too much."

"Nothing but the best for you, Laila."

We sat down, and we put our napkins in our laps. The salad was a Caprese salad, a simple one with just a tomato, mozzarella, and balsamic vinaigrette. It tasted divine.

When I was done, Trouble went over to the sideboard and brought me the entree. It was gnocchi with lamb ragu. It had a mint garnish. I speared a little gnocchi with my fork, and I ate it. I swallowed.

"This is the best thing I've ever tasted."

Trouble smiled. "I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favorites, too."

I was quiet as I ate the food as quickly as I could and remain ladylike. Trouble was just as fast.

"What's for dessert?"

Trouble smiled. "What's your favorite dessert?"

"Tiramisu."

He lifted a silver cover, and there it was. It had a little slice of orange on top.

"I thought I'd go with a twist. It has the normal mascarpone, ladyfingers, and Grand Marnier, but it also has a little orange in it."

He stuck a fork in it and put the first bite in my mouth. The blend of the mascarpone with the bite of the alcohol and the tang of the orange was delightful.

"I think this is my new favorite."

He fed me another bite. Our eyes locked as he put the third bite in my mouth.

It was quiet and intimate when he fed me. I was perfectly capable of feeding myself. But somehow, when he looked at me like that, I didn't mind at all. In fact, I really enjoyed the way that he had taken care of me. Our first date was simple, dinner and a movie, but this had taken a lot more effort.

He also was hyperaware of how quickly I was eating. As soon as I was ready, he put the next bite into my mouth. It felt like he knew exactly the rhythm of my breathing, letting me take a tiny rest sometimes.

When all the tiramisu was gone, he put the fork down.

"Didn't you want any?"

"No. It was for you. I'm lactose intolerant."

I blinked. Oh. I had violated my weekday veganism with the lamb and cheese today. Oh well. It was totally worth it if Trouble was the one feeding me.

"Didn't you have to eat cheese in the salad?"

"I didn't eat the cheese in the salad."

I looked at his plate and noticed for the first time that his mozzarella was off to the side.

"Oh."

"This meal was for you."

I smiled. "Thank you. It was delightful." I'd talk to him about my veganism later. For now, I would just appreciate the gesture of trying to take care of me.

We were done, so we went back out to his big motorcycle. I clung to him as he went through the LA streets, dodging pedestrians and cars alike. It always raised my heart rate.

When he walked me to my door this time, he pinned me to it when he kissed me goodbye. I felt the planes of his rock-hard chest press against my soft curves, and I could feel my hard nipples poking through my bra.

His mouth was on mine. His hands were around my waist, spanning it, making me feel like a delicate girl. He kissed me like he was fucking me with his tongue, and I felt myself melt between my thighs. My hands were in his hair. I could feel his growing erection press against my soft tummy.

He let it go on for a little longer this time, but he pulled back, just like before.

"I have to go. Bye." Then he ran down the hallway like there were hellhounds behind him.

I
blinked
. I knew that he enjoyed that kiss. Why was he running away?

I went into my room, and Andrea was there with her glasses on, reading a book. She put her finger in it and closed it.

"I heard some very interesting thumping coming from our door. When I looked through the peephole, I saw your hair. Want to share with the class?"

I blushed to the roots of my hair.

"No."

"Oh, come on! Spill!"

"Nope. Nope. I have homework to do."

"You're not going to get away with putting me off so easily. I can see your mouth."

I touched my lips. They were kiss-swollen. I smiled.

"Oh girl! That's the smile of a woman who has been..." She waggled her eyebrows at me.

"It's not like that. I don't know why, but it's not like that."

Andrea tapped her lips. "Hmm. Maybe he's gay."

I thought about the size of the formidable erection that pressed against me as he pushed my soft body against the door, making those thumping noises that Andrea had heard.

"No. He's not gay. He's had so many women."

"What if it's a cover?"

"No, sweetheart, it's not a cover."

She shrugged. "Whatever. When are you seeing him again?"

That pulled me out of my post-date glow. "Oh. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know...we went to a museum, and we came home."

"Museum? Isn't that a cheap date?"

I snorted. "No, Andrea, it was anything but a cheap date. It was fantastic."

I took off my dress, and I lay in my bra and panties on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I closed my eyes and remembered what it had been like to kiss him. He tasted absolutely divine.

"I saw that you tried out the vibrator."

My eyes were instantly open. "What?"

"It was the only thing in the trash. I also saw the wrapping for the rechargeable batteries."

I groaned and covered my eyes. "Oh god."

"It's perfectly healthy for young women our age to have vibrators, you know."

"I don't know. I don't think my mom has one."

"Honey, your mom probably has a dozen. It's not really something that you talk to your young teenage daughter about, you know?"

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"My mom has a zillion vibrators. She owns a shop back home."

I sat up on the bed. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would you buy stuff from a shop here when you can get stuff from your mom?"

"It's so embarrassing to buy that stuff from my mom. If I do, then she knows about my sex life. Like, during high school, I bought condoms from Target instead of just getting them for free from her 400-condom boxes. She's so eager to talk about the boys I'm dating or what I'm doing. Other parents are buttoned-up, but my mom is the completely opposite. It makes me more private. I don't want her to know about my personal life, you know? It was bad enough when I lived with her, but I can have a modicum of privacy now that I'm in college."

I nodded. "I understand."

"What about you? What do your parents do?"

"Um, my dad's a businessman, I guess. And my mom runs some nonprofits."

"Oh yeah? Doing what?"

"Like, my mom came from pretty humble beginnings. She worked for everything that she got. So she wants to give people who are young and growing up in urban centers a leg up. My mom runs Read Up! which is focused on literacy from all ages, from toddler age to adult age. Did you know that third-grade literacy rates are the measure that they use to project future prison populations?"

She blinked. "I had no idea. Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's a thing. Literacy is super important. Well, functional literacy is. It's not a huge jump to teach someone the alphabet, but it's much more strenuous to teach someone to read enough for their job, you know?"

"I've never thought about it before, but you are right. Huh." She took off her glasses.

"So what, are you and your brother super book nerds?"

"Andrea, we're both in the Resident Honors Program. It's not like we're idiots."

Andrea nodded.

"But, no, Chris isn't a big bookworm. I am, of course. Mom made us read a lot when we were little, but once we got into school, she didn't push us too much. Like, we got bedtime stories. We worked through the Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter, the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, and all that chapter by chapter when we were little. So we grew up respecting stories. Chris is more of an athlete. He'd rather be running around outside. I think his idea of a perfect day is just swimming in a gigantic pool with hot girls surrounding him, giving him drinks."

"Interesting. What's your idea of a perfect day?"

"I've never really thought about it before. Um..." I wrapped my arms around my middle. "I guess that my idea of a perfect day would be sitting in my bed, while it is raining outside, reading."

"Oh my god, you're such an introvert."

"I am."

"And you don't want to live in LA, either."

"Yeah, I guess not. It barely rains here."

"Don't you know there's a drought?" she said, deadpan. I laughed. It was a constant refrain in Los Angeles.

"What's your perfect day, Andrea?"

She tapped her chin. "I guess that it would be a weekend day of just nonstop sex with enough alcoholic chocolate whipped cream to feed an army. And really great room service."

I smiled. "Sounds like fun."

My phone buzzed. I looked at it.

Same time and place tomorrow?

Sure

Andrea said, "I know who that was."

I just smiled. I knew that I'd see him in my dreams tonight. I put on jeans and a soft lime green Uniqlo shirt, and I got down to business.