Taken (A Bad Boy Romance Book 1) by Amanda Scott

Taken, Book 1: A Bad Boy Romance
     
    By Amanda Scott
     
    © 2016 Amanda Scott.
     
     
    All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental
     
     
     
     
    Brady
     
    This is supposed to be easy.
    Punch in, punch the fuck out.
    At least that’s what my tour manager, Rex, tells me. And he’s never steered me wrong before.
    Maybe that should have been my warning sign. Every record gets shattered eventually.
    I hesitate before I knock on the office door to read the name on the sign. Leila Crawford, PhD, LICSW .
    Remember your golden rule.
    Before I can knock, the door swings open on its own and my attention gets hijacked by a pair of black ankle strap heels and a long, silky set of legs to go with them.
    I see a hand reach towards me before I can even look up from that dick-twitching pair of legs and those delicious, curvy hips.
    “I’m Leila. You must be...” her voice trails off as she scrambles to find my last name.
    Fuck. Me. This chick doesn’t have a clue who I am. That’s a first around these parts in a long, long time.
    I look up to meet the softest, sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen- two of the bluest works of art, laden with tiny golden speckles.
    Life isn’t fair.
    She’s fucking gorgeous.
    Did I mention beautiful? I find it almost impossible not to grab a fistful of her long, flowing strands of amber honey hair.
    And those lips. God fucking damn those soft, virginal lips- no doubt they’d best be served locked around the head of my cock.
    My stomach starts to move in ways I’m not all that familiar with. And that’s just not okay in my book.
    I slowly reach my hand out to greet hers. I swallow half my Adam’s apple as my palm engulfs her warm, soft hand. “I’m Brady. And I believe I’m in the wrong place.”
    She smiles and squints her baby doe eyes at the same time. I can smell fear on this chick, that much I’m familiar with. She looks down at her clipboard again, giving me a split second or two to give her body a full once-over.
    Damn. My cock is already aching in my jeans. Fucking Rex, man. I swear to God when I see him…
    Whatever the fuck this chick’s wearing just isn’t playing fair- some tight-fitting grey coat dress that’s fighting for dear life just to keep those big tits from bursting at the seams- an outfit like that just shouldn’t be legal in a place like this.
    She looks up at me and catches me staring at her chest. I make no apologies. Leila points to her black appointment book. “Unless there’s another Brady in the waiting area, I believe you’re in the right place.”
    I’m gonna fucking bash Rex’s skull in.
    I clear my throat. “Right. So…”
    “Come on in.”
    My chest tightens as she turns to head deeper into her office. I feel another twitch from my cock as I watch her ass move up and down as she strides across her office floor. “Should I shut this?” I ask.
    “Yes, please. Unless you don’t mind the whole world listening in.”
    “Actually, I do.”
    I shut the door behind me and my stomach instantly drops, like I had just free fallen thirty floors in an elevator. And that’s when I know I’m in big, big, very big trouble.
    “Please, have a seat,” she says.
    I ignore her completely as I thumb through a book on her shelf. “I should probably tell you that I don’t do therapy,” I say.
    “You don’t?”
    “Not unless I have to,” I say.
    “I’m sorry to hear that, Brady,” she says.
    The sound of her voice saying my first name somehow rattles my nerves. I shove the book back on the shelf.
    “No need to apologize, Leila. You don’t even know me.”
    “Right…” her voice trails off.
    I reach for another book off the shelf that catches my attention. Diagnostic and Statistcal Manual of Mental