As he bounded up the stairs two steps at a time, I knew that the fire that we had for one another was never going to be contained. It didn’t matter what country we were in or what kind of workload we had. We would always have special moments just for us. I was looking forward to a bright future with the man that I loved.
Billionaire Steamy Romance Series
BAD BOY BALLER
BAD BOY BALLER
Losing my parents was one of the hardest things that I’d ever been through. I was just a teenager and needed my mom. Through legal paperwork as well as love, I went to live with Dad’s best friend, Perry Adams.
They were friends since grade school, and I didn’t know anyone better than P
erry. It was perfect.
Then came the years when I grew older and more aware of hormones and emotions. I knew it was wrong to want to sleep with a man that was twice my age as well as such a close member of my family.
It just got harder, though. I knew so many guys at school that would take care of my needs, but they were crass and immature.
They weren’t Perry.
Before I knew it, I was graduating from college and more attracted to him. He suggested a trip together to celebrate, and I agreed, with no intentions of anything happening between us.
Then there was a kiss, and we couldn’t stop it.
Was there a future for Perry and me?
Could we get past all the wrongs in our relationship?
Could I start my life without him in it now that I didn’t have to stay?
Maya
I was young and stupid, but that was no excuse. Everyone is young and stupid at some point in their life, but not everyone makes the mistakes I'd made. It all started when my brother Luke brought over a new friend. I was a senior in high school, a good girl. A girl my family could be proud of. I didn't go out and party like my brother. I studied. I worked hard. I was going to be a doctor one day, and that meant taking advanced classes while I was in high school, to prepare myself for college and beyond.
I was the white sheep of the family, my brother the black one. He would disappear for days on end, partying and drinking, until he finally couldn't party anymore. Even at twenty-one, he was still living at home. He worked mostly odd jobs – his latest one at a club in Chicago. Luke told me all about it, making it sound like an incredible opportunity, rather than the latest waystation on the road to nowhere he was on. But I'd listen as he told me how great it was to sling drinks and flirt with all the hot women – and to get paid for it too.
He'd apparently found his dream, and I guess that I had to be happy for him.
Every week, we had a family dinner. It was something of a tradition with my folks. Once a week, we'd all gather around the table and eat a home-cooked meal, all in one place. During the week, my father's job kept him away a lot and Luke was, well, Luke. He was hardly ever around. But he was good about never missing a family dinner. Mostly because mom would have had his hide if he had.
But I remember clearly, this one specific family dinner, when Luke brought a friend from work to our weekly family gathering.
“His name is Reese,” he told my mom beforehand.
“Reese isn't family, dear,” she said. “Only family should be at family dinner.”
Yeah, my mom was a bit uptight. Sometimes too uptight for her own good. But I had to admit that I agreed with her. At least on this one thing. I didn't want any of my brother's scumbag friends hanging out with us. Especially not on the one night we were supposed to come together as a family.
“He has no family, mom. I feel bad for the kid,” Luke complained. “Would you really turn away a guy who has no family instead of welcoming him into ours for an evening?”
I rolled my eyes as I listened from the living room. My brother knew how to work it and play on my mom's heart strings. It made me sick.
I heard my mom sigh as I walked into the kitchen. She put the lasagna in the oven and wiped her hands on her apron. She tried a little too hard to be the picture of the perfect mom – her perfectly coifed hair, the church dress, the pearls around her neck. She had that Donna Reed thing going on, but was exactly the type of woman I aspired to be. Except, of course, that I wanted a career. I gave her props for all she did, but being a stay-at-home mom wasn't for me. In that regard, I was more like my dad – who was a doctor too, of course.
“Fine, I guess I shouldn't be so cold,” she said. “Tell him he can come over, but please – and I beg of you, Luke – tell him to make sure he dresses properly. None of those baggy jeans and baseball caps at the table.”
I snickered. It was hard enough to get Luke to dress properly, especially back then. He was trying so hard to be a gangster type – baggy jeans, tennis shoes that cost his entire paycheck, baseball caps turned backward with the brim left unmolded. He didn't want people to believe he was the adult son of a doctor and a stay-at-home wife living in middle class suburbia outside of Chicago. That would have damaged his street cred or whatever he called it.
If Luke heard me laughing, he ignored me. Instead, he agreed – reluctantly – that they'd dress appropriately for the dinner table. Though, it didn't take a genius to know that his idea of appropriate and my mom's likely didn't match up too well. I figured we'd be lucky if he wore anything that even remotely resembled appropriate dinner table attire.