The Bad Boy Wants Me(16)

The living room has —wait for it—an Olympic-size swimming pool. OK, Olympic size might be a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the picture. It is infested with nearly naked, nubile, squealing bodies. As my dazed eyes watch more super-excited, shrieking, gloriously perfect, scantily clad girls land in the water with a splash.

Oh, you should also know that the living room boasts a dance floor (that’s right, a slightly raised square platform that flashes), two well stocked bars (on either side of the pool), and a giant movie screen with images of whales swimming underwater in slow motion. The whales, I’ll admit, is a cool and surreal idea.

Honestly, the whole thing looks like an MTV music video.

Right in the middle of all this fun and laughter is Cash Hunter. Lying on a giant purple inflatable bed between two giggling babes. One of them is pouring champagne straight from the bottle onto his chest. Talk about living a cliché.

Still, awesome, fantastic, wonderful.

This is exactly the kind of stuff I was hoping to run into. Right this minute, the lead singer of ALKALINE doesn’t seem all that attractive. In fact, he looks like a shallow, selfish, vain, egocentric, show-off, media created, hateful, sexual deviant of a jerk. Who in their right mind would ever want a party god like this?

Beside me Britney screams, ‘Cash.’

His head swivels in our direction and our eyes meet. Suddenly the blood in my veins starts fizzing like soda water. Oh God. Apparently, I’m not in my right mind. Because I want him so bad it hurts my stomach, and until he decides to break the eye-fuck I find myself totally, completely, and absolutely unable to look away. I just stand there frozen and stare idiotically at him.

Until his eyes flicker and he turns his gaze to Britney. A smile breaks out on his face. Rolling the girl next to him into the water, he slips into it himself and swims strongly towards us. Placing his palms on the tiles at the edge of the pool, he hauls himself out easily. His eyes are luminous with water reflections.

From his crouched position, he uncoils, full of sexual energy. Water sluices off his body in fast flowing rivulets and I actually feel my eyes widen. Holy crap. What a rush! He lifts his powerful arms and slicks his hair back, and my eyes just follow like some starving, stray dog.

It’s just not fair. Why should anybody look like that? I shake my head to clear the weird hypnotic effect he is having on me. It’s not like I want anything to happen between us.

Britney takes a step forward and pecks delicately at his wet cheek.

‘Great party,’ she says stepping back.

‘There’s not much to your dress,’ he notes darkly.

‘We’re here to have fun,’ Britney giggles.

His eyes narrow disapprovingly. ‘Watch it, Brit. I don’t want to have to bash anybody’s head in.’

‘Oh for God’s sake don’t be such a spoil sport, Cash. I never get to go out and have fun,’ she groans.

He scowls at her. ‘I mean it. I’m not your BFF. I’m your older brother.’

‘‘What time is Taylor Swift coming?’ she asks, craftily changing the subject.

‘Not until later.’

She clasps her hands together. ‘I’m so excited. I can’t believe I’m going to meet her.’

He smiles indulgently. ‘She said she’s bringing something special for you.’

Britney’s eyes become dinner platters. ‘What?’

He lifts one wet, muscular, tanned, taut shoulder. Phew. This man could start a new category of porn – shoulder porn. ‘It’s a surprise,’ he tells her.

‘But do you know what it is though?’ she wheedles.

‘Nope. You’ll just have to wait.’

‘All right,’ she agrees easily. ‘Where’s Prince anyway?’

‘Locked in my bedroom,’ he says.

‘Can I go see him?’

‘Yeah, but don’t let him out.’

‘Oh why not?’ she complains.

He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. ‘Because he’ll do what he did the last time you let him out.’

‘I thought it was a great laugh,’ she says with a little naughty giggle.

‘Seriously? You want a repeat?’

‘So he jumped into the pool. He’s friendly. It’s hardly his fault that everybody else was silly enough to behave as if a man-eating crocodile had got into the pool with them,’ she defends.

‘Britney,’ Cash says patiently, ‘after he emptied the pool he ran outside and shook himself all over the buffet table and slobbered on the barbequed meat so no one had anything to eat.’

‘Your friends don’t eat anyway,’ she retorts.

Way to go, Britney. This is the version of her that I could really start to like.