Bad Boy Rich

“I don’t know, work stuff, probably.”

I place my hands on my hips, shaking my head in disbelief. “Unbelievable, you’re going to lie to my face? We’ve been dating for like two minutes and already we’re arguing. I swear, Wesley, you’re so up-and-down you could be woman.”

Wesley bows his head, running his hands through his hair again with frustration.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he says in a low tone.

“Of course you didn’t.” I let out a frustrated sigh, my shoulders slumping from sheer exhaustion. “I don’t care what you think. I fell asleep tonight, in the car, tired as hell. I raced home, to shower then call you. Right now, I want to eat pizza and I want you to leave. No good will come of you staying here.”

“Milana,” he calls my name softly, extending his hand to touch mine.

I allow him to touch me, but just for a brief moment, scared he would consume me once again and any chance I had of surviving would be minimal.

“Please, Wesley, go. Just for tonight, I need some space,” I beg of him.

I stare at the floor for what seems like forever. His shoes make this squeaky sound against the wood, until the sound stops at my door. Wesley holds onto the doorknob, clearing his throat, lifting his head to meet mine. “Space is never a good thing. You have twenty-four hours.”

I quirk my brows, glancing at him, confused by his ultimatum. “Twenty-four hours to do what?”

“To do whatever it is you have to do to understand that you’re with me now. You’re my fucking girlfriend and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

The door opens wide, and before he leaves the room I call for him to wait.

“I don’t think so. You have twenty-four hours for you to decide whether it’s me or her.”

I hated that I had bared my soul. Allowed him to see how jealous and vulnerable I was. The thing is, I had nothing against Emerson. What I did have was the underlying feeling that my connection to her, was somewhat an asset to him.

And this would be the test.

“Her?” he repeats, confused, inching his way closer to me.

“Emerson,” I murmur.

I bow my head in shame, hating myself for feeling this way. The warmth of his hand graces my chin, his footsteps towards me unheard. With a slight lift, our eyes meet. All I see is him, Wesley Rich, the man that made my heart thump like a crazed organ on steroids.

The man that is so easily crawling under my skin, consuming me whole.

“I don’t need twenty-four hours, or even a second. It’s you, okay? You’re the one I want.”

I fight to hold back my smile, but his eyes dance with such passion that I struggle to do so, my mouth widening instantly.

“Stay,” I beg, softly, tracing his bottom lip with my finger.

“Here?”

“Yes, here. Why? You afraid of my hood?”

He exhales, with a grin. “Please, Joe loves me. I beat Clifford in backgammon earlier so now I’m his best friend.”

“You beat Clifford in backgammon? No one has ever done that. He’s the streets’ legend. So many hidden talents, what else do you have up your sleeve?”

His hands slide around my waist, bringing me close to him. I missed him, and it’s only been since the morning when he last touched me. The concept seemed crazy.

“You really want to know?” He kisses me softly, rolling his tongue against mine, then sucking my bottom lip before pulling away. “How quiet can you be?”

I giggle, softly. “How about some pizza first, I’m starving.”

My stomach growls on cue, making Wesley laugh along with me.