Dirty Bad Boys Box Set: Forbidden Romance Collection

I laugh. “I’ll pass. I may not be the next fashionista, but that hat is awful.”

We all giggle, and with quick goodbyes, I make my way home.

Back at home, it doesn’t take long for Joe, our resident drunk, to comment on my appearance or even Mrs. Jones from apartment 2B. She has a remedy for sunburn because her ex-husband is as pale as you could get. I politely tell her that I may drop by later, slowly walking up the narrow stairwell toward our apartment. Even my bag on my shoulder begins to hurt.

As I turn the corner around the banister, I stand back in shock, staring at a body slumped against my door. The lighting is poor in the dark corridor, and the closer I move, his face begins to take shape.

I take a deep breath with fear and comfort.

“You’re here.”

I’m sure how to react. We were just on the phone, and he was there, and I was here.

“Hello,” I croak.

He stands up, practically throwing himself at me and lifting me in his arms. Taking a step back, he’s quick to tell me he misses me, placing his lips onto mine. My mouth forces open, welcoming his familiar taste as he presses against me, hard and full of passion.

Pulling back, slightly, I look deeply into his eyes.

“I miss you, too…” I smile, a little forced. “Liam.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Can we go in?”

I’m stuck in a daze, staring at him in complete shock. Though we just kissed, I’m without words, examining his profile and trying to allow this all to sink in.

Liam is here.

In Los Angeles.

A place he despises without even having visited.

He hasn’t changed much since I saw him over a month ago. His hair has grown slightly longer with drabby ends, yet still tied back away from his face. Most of the time he’s dressed in overalls, so the white tee and jeans are new. I recall our conversation at the beach earlier, chuckling to myself at the sight of him dressed this way.

“Sorry, how rude of me.”

“Milly, wait…” The palm of his hand grazes against my cheek, his lips meeting mine again, lingering with a soft suck of my bottom lip. Tearing away slowly, the angst builds up inside, my breathing hitches.

“C’mon, let me show you around mi casa.”

“Huh?”

“My place.” I chuckle, opening the door to Flynn sitting on the couch with some friends. It’s the first time I have seen these guys—possibly band members—lounging all over the apartment with empty bottles of beer sitting on the coffee table. Two of them have guitars in their hands, one singing a tune, and Flynn tapping his drumsticks against the table.

“Liam?” Flynn is equally surprised, standing up and grinning as he shakes Liam’s hand followed by that weird hug men do. “Milly didn’t say you were coming into town.”

Liam grabs my hand, clutching it with pride. “Kinda surprised her. You know, when you miss your girl, you just gotta do what you just gotta do.”

I’d never heard him refer to me as his girl, and I don’t mind it. Both of them, in this room, makes it feel like home. I can feel myself getting emotional, that same homesick feeling that took over my life the first two weeks here, reappears.

The last two weeks have been different, though. Guess I was distracted.

Flynn and Liam talk a little while longer, allowing me to slip into the bathroom and wash the sand off me and also to make an outfit change—my choice, nothing fancy—a coral-colored blouse that falls off my shoulders and some white shorts. Then, I realize how burned I am, and that color does nothing to hide it. I end up changing into something subtler.

My hair—irritatingly long in this sticky heat—is whisked up into a bun and away from my face. I wear makeup most of the time but decide on some lip gloss since my face is bright pink and no amount of foundation will cover this.

Back in the living room, the boys are still chatting away. I motion silently for Liam to follow me to my room, a gesture he notices, quickly wrapping up the conversation. Luckily, Flynn is distracted by his bandmates, allowing us some privacy.