Free Baller's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance by Saylor Bliss Page B

door. I cover my head with my pillow and try to shut
out the incessant banging. Go the fuck away. Tap, tap, tap. I swear on all that’s holy that if someone isn’t
dying, they're about to be. I've got two more hours that I can sleep before
I've got to get up and get ready for my walk of shame into the office. I wasn’t
going to go in at all today, but I didn’t see any point in delaying the
inevitable any longer. I plan to march in Ames’s office and let him know the
article was a bust. I'm already prepared for his disappointed look and the sad
news that he can’t keep me.
    Snatching
the door open, I don’t know who I’m expecting, but it isn’t Kiptyn, standing
there with a Venti Starbucks held out in front of him like he’s scared for his
life before I've had my first sip. I take it from his hand, greedy for the hot
ecstasy. He chuckles low, and all the parts of my body that the caffeine has
missed awaken instantly. I look over the top of the cup at him. He looks like hell.
His hair is a mess, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s still in the jeans from last
night.
    Dark
circles line his eyes. I wonder what he’d been out doing all night. It’s
obvious he hasn’t slept all night. I remember the state I left him in last
night, with his cock as hard as a rock, poised and ready to take me. White-hot
rage fills me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out exactly what he
did last night. Who? Now that is the question. No doubt, any one of the
hundreds of women in LA that would be more than happy to finish what I’d
started. Stepping back into the warm confines of my apartment, I slam the door
right in his face.
    I'll be
damned if he leaps straight from some other bitch’s bed and comes knocking on
my door. Hell no. I don’t care if he did bring me Starbucks.
    “Skila,
open the door.”
    Shit,
why didn’t he take a hint and leave? I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want
to look at the evidence of where he went when I left. It’s so very obvious, and
I feel that knife twist deep in my heart.
    “Fuck,
Sky, let me in. I haven’t slept a wink.”
    I snatch
the door back open, ready to lay into him, but the pitiful sight in front of me
stops me in my tracks. I swallow my words, snapping my jaw shut tight, and look
at the man standing in front of me. The man I’m so desperately in love with. He
doesn’t look like a man who had a good night last night. He looks like shit.
Well, as shitty as Kiptyn Price can look.
    “What do
you want, Kip?” I ask, hope building in my chest. Please let him want me.
Please don’t let this be some cosmic joke at my expense.
    “The
interview?” he asks, and I can't help but laugh. Dry, humorless, the same laugh
he gave me two days ago when I asked the same question. I thought it was funny
then, but I don’t now.
    “Yeah,
the interview. Are you still willing to do it?” I ask.
    “Of
course. We shook on it. Remember?”
    That
damn hand shake. How could I forget? Well, if nothing else good comes out of
this, at least I'll be able to keep my job. Not what I was hoping for when I
asked him, but he wants to do it, and it’s still better than nothing.
    “Come
in.”
    I turn
and walk to my room and grab a small recorder, pen and paper. I had already
made a list of questions I wanted to ask him, and I grab that too. I’ll just
run down the list as quickly as possible and then see him on his way. I can't
bear to spend any more time with him than that. My heart can't take it.
    Already,
I’m fighting every single instinct inside of me that wants to reach out and
wrap my arms around him. I want to ask how he’s feeling. I want to tell him how
sorry I am for his loss and kiss away the pain that I know simmers just below
the surface, but I can't.
    When I
open my bedroom door to walk out, he’s standing right there. His sad eyes are
cast down, but when I step out, he looks up. I see a thought cross his mind,
and his head shakes slightly before he gives in and pulls me