My Bad Boy's Secret: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance by Nicole Price Page B

bed and pull the covers up under my chin, curling my toes in excitement. This… was real. I was not dreaming. Just the thought that this was my real life… my reality made me feel very excited. I felt my nipples become hard and erect under my slip, and I felt myself getting wet. This had been the normal reaction to waking up in this home every day. It was fun and different. I was very, very, very grateful to be in this situation. Even if it wasn't under ideal circumstances, I was happy for how this came about. After being on the verge of having to live in a hotel, Jackson saved me by offering me a room in his four-bedroom Hollywood Hills mansion. It was going to be empty anyway, while he was away on business. So in a way, I was doing him a favor by watching over the house, and managing the maids and gardeners. Though I'm sure one of his many assistants could have done the job easily, and had in the past. I just liked believing that I was being useful. However, I think we both knew it was something more. I didn't know exactly what he thought, but I knew that I just liked having him in my life. It made me so happy, plain and simple.
     
    It had been a wild ride since the very day I received an email from the producer interested in my screenplay. I suddenly was living the dream life of having a studio interested in producing my film. I had worked for this all my life, and it was finally happening. After selling it to the Producer for $77,000, I was in the Hollywood club. I didn't think it could get any better than that until the screenplay was pitched to the producing partner of my Hollywood dream crush, Jackson Lane. Not only were they interested in the screenplay, but Jackson himself wanted to take on the lead role. Meeting him was all my teenage dreams come true, but never did I expect that he would flatter me with his compliments on my writing. Him telling me over and over how brilliant a writer I was was the best aphrodisiac that I could ask for. Then after our very first meeting, he took me for a ride on his motorcycle. This notorious bad boy Hollywood bachelor was known for always riding his motorcycle everywhere, sometimes even recklessly. This particular ride had been the ride of my life, and where things of a romantic nature began. Now, after a few sensual experiences, one dramatic crazy episode with his ex-girlfriend, and one search for a home… I found myself living as his roommate. However, tonight he would be coming home.
     
    I jumped out of bed ready to start the day. I didn't know what to do with myself. Should I make dinner and have it waiting for him, a nice home-cooked meal? Or was that too desperate? What if he got home and already ate? What if he got home and wanted me to leave? Or worse, what if he came home with a woman? The paranoid thoughts started to pile up in my mind. I made coffee and a light breakfast and browsed my laptop for a hotel to move into just in case it came to that. Then I occupied my day, and decided to act as though he were not coming home at all. I would not be making dinner, I would not be dressing up and overwhelming myself with any possibilities. I sat outside with my laptop and wrote, just like I had every day. I was focused on projects. Every time I looked at the clock expecting it to be very late, only 20 minutes had gone by. It was the longest day of my life. I often thought I heard the door opening but then no one would be there. I was on edge the entire day, waiting. Finally the sun was setting, a good sign that time had passed and I wasn't living the same hour over and over. I have no idea what time his flight was to arrive, or if it had been delayed, or if he had changed his flight and had to stay for a few more days.
     
    We had kept little contact over the last two weeks and it was very brief. I never thought to ask him his schedule for coming home, because I didn't want to feel like I was his wife expecting him to tell me what time and when he would be where. So I