Los Angeles Bad Boys: The Complete Series: Cold Hard Cash, Hollywood Holden, Saint Jude by Frankie Love

Author:Frankie Love [Love, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-30T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Bexley

The next morning, I shower while Holden is in the kitchen making coffee.

My legs are sore, my pussy completely worn, and my heart? It's warming up to possibility.

In the bathroom, though, I admit that it's disheartening to see an entire shelf of women's hair product options, and in the adjoining walk-in closet I can't help but notice the shelf of women's clothes, mostly athletic wear, but also plenty of panties. For what, exactly?

Still, I dress, pushing the knowledge of Holden's conquests—past and present—from my mind. Well, I let myself dwell on his latest conquest: me. Because, oh my heck, I can't believe I have lived twenty-two years not having a man take control of my body that way.

Regardless, I can't help pulling out the drawer in his bedside table before walking out of his room. My curiosity is piqued with the teeny-tiny thongs. Has Holden changed at all in these last four years?

In the drawer I find a baggie of pot. A pipe. A lighter. Pursing my lips, I shut the drawer. It's not my place to assess his life choices. I’m here for him, not his habits.

Walking into the kitchen in jeans and a tank top, I smile, looking at Holden in his low slung jeans, with his washboard abs and perfect white-toothed grin.

"Hey, beautiful," he says. "Do you still drink it black?"

I nod. "Some things never change."

"Some things change an awful lot."

I sit on a barstool, and Holden offers me a warm croissant and hands me a steaming cup of coffee.

"Where did you get these? I was in the bathroom for like fifteen minutes."

"I have an on-call cook, but today my assistant Lindy delivered them, per my request."

I break off a piece of the flaky goodness, raising an eyebrow. "Someone delivers you breakfast every day?"

He shrugs. "I'm kind of a big deal."

"Barf."

He smiles, peeling a banana.

"You're not having one?" I ask, pointing to the buttery morsel of heaven.

"I'm on an eating plan. No carbs before noon."

I laugh. "Holden, you're in amazing shape."

"Because I don't eat breakfast pastries."

"Way to make me feel like a beached whale."

"Fine," he acquiesces, "I'll have one. I just don't want my trainer to yell at me. You know I have a thing with being a people pleaser."

"Right," I laugh. "You've always had such a hard time doing what you wanted."

"Well, maybe we're just different kinds of people pleasers. If I remember correctly, I pleased you pretty well last night."

"That's true." I smile again, and it's quiet for a moment as the memory of last night washes over me. "Is it weird that we picked up like this? After not talking for so long?"

"I missed you. I wanted to call you a thousand times," he tells me. "But you were pretty clear at graduation."

"I shouldn't have said those things," I tell him. "I didn't mean them."

"You meant them then."

My words were very clear, and so undeniable. It had started simply enough. I told him that I was sorry, but I was going to Northern California University and not moving to LA with him.

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