The Billionaire and the Con Artist: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Girls Series Book 1) (5 page)

N
ow that’s more
like it—this is how you start a trip.

Just like that, I got my usual place and it came with a bonus this time—a willing hottie.

And I didn’t even have to pay for any of it! This is the kind of guest service I’m talking about.

As I watch Jewel drift to sleep, I can’t help replaying some of my moments with her—from the sight of her standing at the door in a teeny towel, to the sight of her toned, slim form beneath me, moaning and writhing as I plunged into her gorgeous body, taking pleasure from the warmth and slickness between her shapely legs. The feel of those beautiful legs wrapped around me, her arms embracing me, her soft breasts against my chest. Her lovely, satisfied smile when our eyes finally met again, after we both recovered from orgasm. The strange warmth running through me whenever my eyes met hers.

I take a long, satisfied breath.

It never takes long for me to score, but being with Jewel felt different.

She didn’t feel like just any woman; I felt like we connected far beyond my hard cock being plugged into her warm body.

An odd additional layer of satisfaction settled over me while I was with her, like… I’m not really sure how to describe it. Just that she felt sort of like home, and certainly not the one I grew up in.

Jewel might be the first girl in a long time I take out for longer than a few days.

Unlike my usual short-term trysts, I’m nowhere near ready to let her go anytime soon—she’s got something going on behind those blue-gray eyes of hers I’m actually curious about.

I want to know more about her, in general.

I wonder who she actually is—what kind of name is Jewel?

I watch her sleep a little longer, still unwilling to leave her presence just yet.

Then I glance around and spot her belongings.

I feel a twinge of guilt as I take a step toward them; I shouldn’t go through her shit like that.

I can almost see my mom’s disapproving face, sharp reproachful dark eyes, thick dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, mouth tightened in judgmental disapproval.

If there’s one lesson that stuck from my mom, it’s respecting women’s boundaries. And especially—
especially
—don’t ever go through her purse. Or any bag.

I turn away. I’ll let Jewel fill me in later.

I do a quick search for the extra key card for the room and pocket it before heading down to the casino where the guys are, no doubt, already playing some game or other.

I can’t wait to spill it about what just happened, although I’m a little disappointed no one checked up on me.

Thankfully, it all worked out, and now I have a hot girl waiting for me to come back, someone I don’t have to worry about wanting me for my money, for sure.

* * *

I
spot
the guys before they spot me and take in their demeanors.

Nate’s wound up, trying hard not to look so tense, while Peter and Scott couldn’t look more relaxed.

No surprise there since Nate’s the only one who’s actually attached to me.

Pete spots me first and breaks out into a wide grin.

Seeing this, Nate finally relaxes as his eyes find me.

I’ll give him the details later, but everyone here deserves to know a little about what went down.

"Hey!" Nate says. "We were worried about you for a second there.”

"Yeah, I see you guys all came rushing to come to my aid. Glad you didn’t come a-knocking, though—you wouldn’t believe who opened that door."

"Something tells me we will," Pete says dryly in his smooth, deep voice, nursing what looks like whiskey. "I’m guessing things turned out pretty well.”

Man, I can’t wait to see their faces when I tell them what happened!

“To put it mildly," I say. "So I knock and who opens? Gorgeous blonde. Petite but curvy thing with blue-gray eyes and a killer smile.
Completely naked
."

So that last part was a bit of exaggeration, but come on, I have to go for dramatic effect—gotta hook ’em.

"Get the fuck out of here," Scott says with widened eyes.

"I’m serious! I mean, not completely nude as she opened the door, obviously, but she was wearing nothing but a tiny towel barely covering her from tits to upper thighs. She was dripping wet too—must’ve just gotten out of the shower. You won’t believe how gorgeous she is, but I guess you’ll see soon since we’ve come to a sort of agreement—we’re sharing the room. Amongst other things," I add. "She’s apparently staying by herself, believe it or not, and I’m not gonna lie—I didn’t exactly register all the details because next thing I know, we’re tumbling into bed together, towel off, all her lady parts exposed.”

Pete’s eyes practically pop open and I’m filling with pride.

"Wow," Pete says, looking damned impressed, and I can’t help but feel a bit smug.

I feel like I just ticked something off my bucket list.

I’d never tell him, but I’m a little jealous of him sometimes.

Usually, Pete is the first to get laid—before we even get on the plane sometimes.

His smooth dark brown skin and sharp planes turn heads like nobody’s business.

Plus he’s tall and muscular.

Don’t get me wrong—I have no problem pulling ladies. Anytime I want, day or night, wherever I am, I can find a gorgeous willing chick, but Pete practically makes them faint.

Right now, though, eat your heart out, Pete. Not that this is a race or anything.

Scott chuckles.

"Whoa—that’s some respectful language right there, ‘lady parts.’ You must like her a lot."

I ignore the snort of laughter that follows all around.

"Actually, I do," I say. “I feel like she’s actually something special. It’s like we connected almost immediately... "

"We get the picture, buddy—no need to go into details,” Scott says. “We know how it works." He starts making crude gestures with his hands, sliding one finger into the hole made by two fingers of his other hand.

"No, I mean—besides that. Yeah, once she dropped her towel, things got fuzzy, and I don’t remember much after that except we had a hell of a time, and I can’t wait to go back up there for some more.”

"What the hell are you doing down here then?" Pete says.

"Gotta pace myself," I say with a slow, wicked smile. “Plus I didn’t want you guys worrying. And I feel like it’s my lucky night. Mark my words, I’ll make a killing on the blackjack table tonight—I can feel it. I’ll introduce her later so you guys can drool."

“Maybe she’s open to other positions, eh? Maybe we can all have a go,” Scott says and my glare stops him cold as a fierce possessiveness takes over me.

An awkward silence sits for a moment until I force a chuckle to break the unease.

The mood softens and goes light again.

I don’t know what got into me.

We joke like this all the time, but the thought of Jewel looking at any of these guys with the eyes she gave me, the thought of any of them touching her, has me seeing red, and I feel like I’m capable of ripping one of their limbs clean off if they attempt it.

Despite my fake laugh, I know my message is clear.

She’s fucking mine.

“Dude, when something seems too good to be true, it usually is and there’s a catch somewhere. Has no one ever taught you that?” Pete says.

“Yeah, but in this case, there’s something more going on. I know things moved super fast, but this feels … different. I might even keep her the whole trip,” I add casually, suddenly feeling too exposed. The whole trip’s just three days, and I don’t want to come off like some softie. I have a rep to maintain. I can’t let anyone know how much Jewel really affected me; I’ll look weak.

Then Nate suddenly says, "Dude, where’s your watch?"

"Huh?" I say stupidly as I glance at my wrist.

I must’ve been hella distracted not to have noticed till now, but can you blame me?

Still, it’s not just any watch; I’m pretty careful about this one, in particular.

Nate knows how important it is to me, and he’s probably the only one who noticed it’s gone.

"Must’ve left it up there," I say casually, even though I’m panicking a little.

Yeah, the chick is obviously loaded if she’s staying there, but I’m still wary about leaving shit behind with a stranger—particularly that thing.

What the hell else did I leave up there?

I attempt a mental check and realize the stack of hundred-dollar bills I’d been keeping on me is missing.

Must’ve fallen out as my clothes started coming off.

I stifle my growing panic.

I’ll be back up there in a few hours or so for round two with Jewel, so no biggie.

I let myself relax and ignore Nate’s look.

"I’m hitting the tables. You guys coming?"

* * *

I
watch
a slim blonde sidle up to Pete, her eyes sparkling in a way I’ve come to recognize.

"Morris Chestnut, right?" she says and I barely stifle a laugh in time.

Pete just gives her a slow grin, like
You caught me!
but he doesn’t say anything.

He has this uncanny way of leading the ladies on, confirming without actually saying a word of confirmation, managing plausible deniability on a technicality.

"I never said I was," he can say each and every time, but by then, it’s too late. They’ve already given up the goods.

"Oh my god, I love your movies!" the blonde says, her voice getting higher with each word.

Chances are, she’s lying.

Maybe she saw one or two movies of whomever she mistook him for, but it doesn’t matter.

He smiles at her.

"I try to keep a low profile," he begins in his smooth deep voice, “but it’s kind of hard."

"Oh yeah, I get it totally. I’m surprised I’m the only one who has recognized you so far!"

He shrugs, briefly looking away, as if afraid attention is being brought to him by talking to her.

“Some people choose to play it cool and keep their distance, which is fine by me. Besides, celebs pass through here all the time,” he says oh so humbly.

He has figured out how to talk about both sports and the film industry without actually saying anything about either—nothing specific that could expose him.

The blonde can barely contain herself; she is practically quivering with excitement.

"Um, do you mind if we go somewhere?"

Pete smiles at her then looks over at me and says, "I’m going for a walk. Catch up with you guys later?"

"See you, man," I say, trying to look casual but probably failing. "We’ll catch up later." I’m seriously on the verge of losing my battle with my stifled laugh.

It’s just hilarious every single time.

He heads off with the blonde’s arm hooked around his and I finally let some of my laugh out.

I wonder how many of them catch on eventually?

What do they think afterward? Do they feel tricked? Or are they still pretty damned happy they took some hot black guy to bed?

Do they still pretend they slept with the real deal to their friends?

I only wonder about this momentarily, because ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

Fair game, I figure—they only go after him because of who they think he is, so it’s their own fault.