Read Online Stirring Up Trouble (Inspiring the Greek Billionaire) by Shelly Bell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelly Bell
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concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
feed on her damask cheek.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, act 2, scene 5
If Lola wore panties, they would’ve melted by the time they pulled into Braden’s driveway. She’d refused to have sex with him, but her body wanted him anyway. He didn't say much as they drove from the restaurant to his house, but his heated stare as he led her with the palm of his hand low on her back to his black Mustang sent hot electric tingles from her hair follicles all the way down to her exposed toes. And the covert glances he stole of her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention created a coiling tension between her legs.
They stopped at her place on the way so she could pack a bag. Worried her mom would be waiting on the couch to lecture them on their shared fate, Lola told him to wait in the car.
After spending an hour last night enduring Reina’s suggestions that she read the signs and listen to the earth’s music, she’d finally reached her breaking point and kicked her mom out of her room. Sleep hadn’t come quickly and when she had slept, she’d dreamed of Braden again, swimming to her as she wept a million tears. The closer he’d gotten, the harder she’d cried until she’d lost him to the sea once more.
For the first time in her life, she decided to follow her mom’s advice and read the signs. The dream could only mean one thing: she would destroy Braden if he got too close. Although he’d fooled everyone else with his smooth cocky attitude, she saw through it when he’d told her about his parents. He might claim he wouldn’t become attached, but the potential was there lurking beneath his cool exterior. That man felt everything deeply, and one day, he’d make some lucky woman a wonderful partner. She thanked the stars she wouldn’t be around to watch it.
In the end, her mother wasn’t even home. She’d left a note that she’d gone out to lunch with George and not to wait for her. Lola didn’t want to think about what that meant. She crumbled up the paper and threw it away, then wrote a note of her own informing Reina she’d be moving in with Braden for the duration of the thirty days. Alexander’s inheritance gave her the perfect excuse to extricate herself from her mother’s presence without hurting her feelings, especially since she was adamant that Braden and Lola were soul mates.
How she’d keep her hands to herself while she spent every waking moment with him she didn’t know.
Before she left her apartment, she changed into a colorful skirt and navy sweater, put in her contacts, and packed up a small suitcase.
Later, sitting in his car and looking up at his McMansion, she swallowed the deluge of insecurity. The house wasn’t as big as her sister’s, but Braden lived alone. Why did he need so much space? He spent most of his time at work.
With red brick, large pillars, and a turret, it resembled a castle. The front of the house was landscaped with perfectly hemmed bushes, two large pine trees, and various other trees she couldn’t identify because they’d lost their leaves to the season. In the middle of his circular drive, a gigantic fountain with a statute of some sort added an old-style sophistication that went far above someone like Lola’s head. She didn’t know the first thing about art, but the man in the statue held what looked like a giant ice cream cone.
Three cars were parked in the circular driveway. A silver Lexus, yellow Hummer, and a red Lamborghini.
“Are those all yours?” she asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt, jabbing her chin in the direction of the vehicles.
“Yes, those are a few of my cars,” he said, turning off the engine. “The rest are in the garage. Help yourself to any of them. Assuming you know how to drive a stick?” He smiled and winked.
She took the bait. “I love driving a stick. So much power in my hands. The freedom to move as fast as I want. The control.”
The smile faded, replaced with raw
feed on her damask cheek.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, act 2, scene 5
If Lola wore panties, they would’ve melted by the time they pulled into Braden’s driveway. She’d refused to have sex with him, but her body wanted him anyway. He didn't say much as they drove from the restaurant to his house, but his heated stare as he led her with the palm of his hand low on her back to his black Mustang sent hot electric tingles from her hair follicles all the way down to her exposed toes. And the covert glances he stole of her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention created a coiling tension between her legs.
They stopped at her place on the way so she could pack a bag. Worried her mom would be waiting on the couch to lecture them on their shared fate, Lola told him to wait in the car.
After spending an hour last night enduring Reina’s suggestions that she read the signs and listen to the earth’s music, she’d finally reached her breaking point and kicked her mom out of her room. Sleep hadn’t come quickly and when she had slept, she’d dreamed of Braden again, swimming to her as she wept a million tears. The closer he’d gotten, the harder she’d cried until she’d lost him to the sea once more.
For the first time in her life, she decided to follow her mom’s advice and read the signs. The dream could only mean one thing: she would destroy Braden if he got too close. Although he’d fooled everyone else with his smooth cocky attitude, she saw through it when he’d told her about his parents. He might claim he wouldn’t become attached, but the potential was there lurking beneath his cool exterior. That man felt everything deeply, and one day, he’d make some lucky woman a wonderful partner. She thanked the stars she wouldn’t be around to watch it.
In the end, her mother wasn’t even home. She’d left a note that she’d gone out to lunch with George and not to wait for her. Lola didn’t want to think about what that meant. She crumbled up the paper and threw it away, then wrote a note of her own informing Reina she’d be moving in with Braden for the duration of the thirty days. Alexander’s inheritance gave her the perfect excuse to extricate herself from her mother’s presence without hurting her feelings, especially since she was adamant that Braden and Lola were soul mates.
How she’d keep her hands to herself while she spent every waking moment with him she didn’t know.
Before she left her apartment, she changed into a colorful skirt and navy sweater, put in her contacts, and packed up a small suitcase.
Later, sitting in his car and looking up at his McMansion, she swallowed the deluge of insecurity. The house wasn’t as big as her sister’s, but Braden lived alone. Why did he need so much space? He spent most of his time at work.
With red brick, large pillars, and a turret, it resembled a castle. The front of the house was landscaped with perfectly hemmed bushes, two large pine trees, and various other trees she couldn’t identify because they’d lost their leaves to the season. In the middle of his circular drive, a gigantic fountain with a statute of some sort added an old-style sophistication that went far above someone like Lola’s head. She didn’t know the first thing about art, but the man in the statue held what looked like a giant ice cream cone.
Three cars were parked in the circular driveway. A silver Lexus, yellow Hummer, and a red Lamborghini.
“Are those all yours?” she asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt, jabbing her chin in the direction of the vehicles.
“Yes, those are a few of my cars,” he said, turning off the engine. “The rest are in the garage. Help yourself to any of them. Assuming you know how to drive a stick?” He smiled and winked.
She took the bait. “I love driving a stick. So much power in my hands. The freedom to move as fast as I want. The control.”
The smile faded, replaced with raw
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