Cold Hard Cash: Los Angeles Bad Boys (7 page)

I
t might be a cliché
, to say his cock is huge and hard and thick and ready … but it is. It so completely is. And Cassius is romantic and tender, and broken and lost. And maybe so am I. Maybe this day turned into something magical because he and I were both open and willing.

Desperate.

“Take me, take me now,” I whisper, my hand wrapping around his length, my pussy throbbing in desire, because this entire day has been a giant cunt-tease and I am ready.

He lowers me to the sand and balls his shirt behind my head so I’m more comfortable, but I was already comfortable. Nothing would make this moment uneasy. I feel more relaxed than I maybe ever have.

“You’re a dream, Evangeline. A mirage. I see you, feel you, but I don’t think you’re real.”

“I am real. This can be real.”

Am I saying words I need to cling to? Am I already scared of what might happen when this night ends? Am I just speaking what I want to be true?

He rolls on a condom. His fingers find my opening, and I’m so wet—I’m dripping before we’ve even begun, because his hard, lined chest and strong arms and light eyes are telling me the story I want so badly to hear.

That he wants me. That he craves me as badly as I crave him.

His fingers flutter against my folds, and my eyes close, and he kisses my mouth, softly, so very softly. And I sink onto the sand as he presses himself into me.

I wince; he whispers words I can’t hear, because all I know is what I feel, and what I feel is pure.

I whimper beneath him; my eyes sting with tears. He fills me, presses past my virginity and goes deeper inside me, to a place I saved for him without meaning to.

“Oh, girl, you feel so right.” He moves above me, his cock thrusting within me. I moan, taking him against my pussy walls, so tight and unforgiving.

“Cassius,” I sigh, wrapping my arms tight around his neck, clinging for dear life as he moves against me. My core is alive, my skin on fire, my heart beating a melody I have never made before. My fingers itch to play a song I’m just learning and I rock against him, finding a beat as our bodies collide.

An orgasm rushes over me. I want it to slow, so I can memorize each thrum, but I can’t catch it with my hands, with my heart. It’s a wave that passes through me.

He comes in me, hard. I feel a surge of warmth on the other side of the latex barrier between us … but I know that nothing is barring me from the sensation I feel right now.

When we come, we are one.

Tears fill my eyes.

And then tears are streaming down my cheeks. He’s shushing me, and I’m trying to speak, but I can’t because I’ve never felt so whole.

“You are perfect, Evangeline,” he whispers.

“No, you are, Cash. You absolutely are.”

He shakes his head, kisses my nose. We smile.

Laughter escapes my lips, laughter I did not expect.

* * *

W
hen we’re driving back
to my house, I can’t stop smiling. We grab a pizza to go, and a bottle of wine. This night is not going to end any time soon.

I want him to ask me back to his hotel, but he hasn’t. And I’m not going to push.

“So,” I ask. “You say the money from this contract is going to change your life?”

“Yeah, my mom needs my help, and I’ll give it to her. Give her anything.”

“You guys are close, then?” My own pain from missing my mother hits my chest.

“She isn’t exactly lucid at the moment. She was in a car crash a few months back, and had extensive brain trauma.”

“Oh, Cassius, I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” he says. “But it’s life, you know? I can sing this bullshit music if it means I can give her a second chance.”

“You’re a good man.”

He just shakes his head and looks at the road, looks to what’s ahead.

Maybe looking back won’t do him any good.

I park, and I’m surprised to see a few other cars in the driveway. I slow my Mini down as I pull in, suddenly realizing this was bad idea.

Dad’s here, with some other people I don’t recognize. They’ve literally just pulled up moments before us, are just getting out of their own car.

“Cassius, um—” I reach for his arm.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Cassius asks, not looking at my father, but the two people with him.

“That’s my dad. Marshal Kendrick.”

He turns his head ever so slowly. Our eyes meet, confusion written everywhere.

“Evangeline,” he breathes my name.

I can’t say any more, because the couple in the driveway are staring at us, speaking loudly, but I can’t hear them.

I only see Cash, crashing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the man asks Cassius.

“I was with Evangeline.”

We both get out of the car, but I do it regretfully. I wish I’d never come back here.

The girl is staring at me—make that
glaring
at me—and I don’t know why I’m her problem. My problem is my father.

“Evangeline, what in the world were you doing with Cash?” Dad asks, arms crossed.

“Uh….” I pause. I think about Cash’s words in the car—about his mother, and money, and needing to get this one thing right. I can’t mess it up by throwing a tantrum. If I admit I was with Cash, then I know Dad will have a fit.

Cash doesn’t need a fit, because I can already see that the guy and girl standing here are laying it on him pretty thick.

“Evangeline, I’m speaking to you. What were you doing with Cash?”

I look at Cassius, and back to the other man, who has the same strong jaw and pale eyes. My stomach drops as I realize this is his brother Chad, his ex-girlfriend Gina. They were my father’s dinner meeting.

Cash steps forward. “Evangeline and I met earlier today, at KMG. She was just showing me around town.”

“With pizza and wine? Back at her place?” my dad scoffs. He’s no fool. “Cash, I thought I made it clear, no one I sign gets to sleep with my daughter. I know I said it as joke before, but I made it pretty damn clear.”

Cash looks at me. His eyes are so penetrating, so full of everything we’ve shared. He would lay down anything for me, after just a day. He’s loyal and good—and he may think he’s a bad boy with a rough past and a bruised heart, but I know he’s more than that.

And I also know my father is a complete asshole who will pull the rug out from anyone who wrongs him.

“You wouldn’t mess this up, would you, Cash?” his brother asks. He is glaring now. “Because Kendrick, Gina, and I were just discussing some ways we can collaborate.”

Cash snorts. “I bet you were, Chad.”

Gina’s arms are crossed, her lips pursed.

Cassius looks back at me. I can’t read his eyes anymore. How did that happen so fast? I swear, moments ago I could read his entire heart.

I don’t want to hurt Cassius—and standing here, at my father’s house, I know being with him with only hurt his career. He may think this rap music isn’t the music he was made to play … but I heard his tracks today. When he sings he makes magic. He
is
magic. And I can’t get in the way of that.

“My dad’s right,” I tell him. “This was a fun day, but it can’t be more than that.”

Cash shakes his head. “Can I have a word with you?” he asks, but it’s not a question.

We cross the driveway, his hand on my arm, his eyes locked on mine.

He’s pissed.

I know my dad, Chad, and Gina are watching us, but Cash doesn’t seem to care. And the way he’s grabbing hold of me, I know I can’t get in his way. He’s on a mission.

He practically drags me around the garage, pins me against the siding, searching my eyes.

“This was just another day of fun for you?’ he asks.

I can’t speak.

“Say it, Evangeline. Say I mean nothing more than a fuck. Say it.”

I can’t speak.

“I don’t care about this music. I care about the money, but I can find money another way.”

“You’d give it all up for me? A girl you’ve known one day?”

“I already told you, Evangeline.—you are singular.”

I shake my head, squeeze shut my eyes.

“Say it,” he presses. “Say this means nothing.”

He’s a fool to consider throwing away the start of a future, for me.

I wouldn’t want him to.

And my father will hold this against him. My father will make it impossible for him. My father has ideas about me—about the girl I should be—and Cash Flow has no part in his plans.

And, yes, I
am
going to break from my dad’s ideals, but not by dragging Cash into the fray. He deserves a clean cut, a real chance.

Cassius deserves the world.

And this is the only way I can think of to hand it to him, this stranger who stole my heart in the space of a day.

“This means nothing,” I tell him, the cold words the kindest gift I can give him. But I know he doesn’t see it that way.

His hand raises, punches the garage behind me. Wood breaks, his knuckles bleed. His heart spills before me with a strength he can’t contain.

“I did not see that coming,” he tells me.

And then he walks away.

F
ourteen straight days
in the studio.

I don’t want to think. I don’t want to do anything besides sink my teeth into the lyrics—even the ones I hate—because that’s better than giving into my thoughts. They are all bitter. Cold. Hard.

Gentle Evangeline isn’t so gentle after all.

That girl played me.

And I’m still mind fucked over what went down in her driveway.

Now, the album is done. Getting remastered. And I’m going on tour with Elle Camino tomorrow.

I’m fucking ready to get out of LA, to disappear on stage night after night.

Elle and I are in the studio together; we just listened to my entire album. It was a dream come true to have this girl from my hometown, who has come farther than anyone I know, sit beside me. She has legit chops, and I want to hear her opinion.

But it was also torture. I see every one of my flaws, and I know she’ll see them too.

“Sweetheart, that was off the charts!” Elle Camino gives me a fist bump, her braided hair swinging as she jumps around the studio. Her overalls, mesh tank, and Reeboks are a throwback, but this girl is so current. I want to learn to ride her creative wave in the music I create.

“I think track eight is the weakest,” I admit, needing to say something. What I want to do is scream that this album is not what I envisioned, and I am not what I envisioned, and at this point I don’t even care how it sounds.

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Elle says, plopping down on a stool and shaking her head.

I raise an eyebrow, not believing a word she says.

“I mean it, Cash. Track eight was one of my favorites on the entire album. It’s all so subjective. As an artist, you never know which thing is going to take off, which song will be your hit. That’s why you gotta try, take a risk, listen to the advice from KMG. They know what they’re doing. They’ve been doing it a lot longer than either of us.”

“Your latest album, you were sold on every track you laid?”

She snorts, picking up her iced latte. Her hundred bangle bracelets jangle as she moves. “Not even close. But I infused my heart and soul in it, just like you did, and that’s enough. We can’t have it every way; we can’t be given complete creative license by the label. Hell, if they gave that to me, I think my entire record would be me screaming about the girl who broke my heart. No one wants to listen to that shit.”

I laugh. Elle is straight up.

“I can’t imagine anyone breaking your heart,” I tell her.

“Yeah, well, now I have a new girlfriend, Sasha. She’ll be on tour with us, and she’s amazing, but—”

“But what?”

“But going on tour is hard enough. And I don’t want the stress of all of this to fuck up what she and I have.”

I nod.

“You have someone?” Elle asks. We’ve met a handful of times over the past few weeks, in meetings prepping us for the tour, and at a photo shoot, but we don’t know one another very well. “I mean, I know you used to be with Gina, back in the day. But she’s with Chad now?”

I forget that Elle knows about me from back home. I wonder how much she knows.

I nod again.

“Well, I know it isn’t my business,” she says, “but I’d rather have no one than two people who aren’t looking out for me. You sure they have your back?”

I give her a hard look, because I trust Elle with this shit. She’s walked this road, walked away from home, and she’s still standing.

“I know they don’t,” I tell her coolly.

“Then I think it’s time you broke free—before we leave on tour. This is
your
time, Cash. Yours.”

“You think it’s that easy?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Honey, nothing worth having is easy. But you need to get your head on straight, and those two aren’t gonna help you do that. You’re all messed up about the album, second-guessing your motives. Do you have anyone in your life you can actually talk this shit through with?”

Of course my mind goes straight to Evangeline. She’s the only person I’ve ever laid it all out for, and she didn’t seem to judge me once.

She
saw
me.

But that girl caved the moment her father came into the picture.

I can’t help but wonder, if she and I had had more than just one day, what we could have been … but that’s fucking stupid to think about. She goes to Julliard. She’s the princess of the KMG empire. She’s a piano prodigy.

And, fuck yeah, I know how talented she is. I’ve watched her play the piano from YouTube clips back from when she was twelve years old. I memorized the way her fingers glide across the keys—and shit, I know it’s crazy, but I couldn’t help it. That girl found a way into my heart, and the grip is fierce.

I’m not ready to let it go … even if she is.

I just need to get through this two-month tour, get a foothold in this business. Make a plan for myself, then I’ll come back for her.

“The thing is, Elle, cutting ties with them means I’m flying solo. I’ve never done that in my life.”

Elle looks wistful, her lips twisted just like my heart. “Maybe it’s time to see just how high you can fly on your own, Cash.”

I know she’s right. In my gut, I know.

But damn, it’s scary learning how to soar.