So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (46 page)

Fucking splooge spigot. Some dudes are assholes.

And Mo. What the hell was she thinking, taking a drink from
some guy she obviously doesn’t know that well?

I jog to her front door and jiggle the handle.

Damn it. Locked

She’s sacked out in my passenger’s seat like a little girl
who’s had too long of a day at the fair. I grab her bag and open it. Somehow,
looking through a woman’s purse is akin to going into no man’s land. Some kind
of sacred ground or shit.

Forget it. She’s liable to cut my fucking hand off or
something if I rummage through her things.

* * *

I carry her through the house. Up the stairs. Into my room.

After I deposit her onto the bed, I plop down next to her,
pull her into my arms, and wait. No telling what the fuck that guy gave her.

Her breaths are even, but heavy. At least she’s breathing.
First sign she’s having trouble, I’ll call an ambulance.

She’s soft. Sweet.

I soak it in. This is probably as close as I’ll get to—well,
it doesn’t matter. It’s not forever. But it
is
for now.

Eventually, Dad won’t have anything to hold over me and
things will be different. Until then, I’ll take my revenge out on him—one tat,
one girl, one speeding ticket at a time. Shithead’s lucky I love Mom and Rach,
or I’d burn his fucking house down.

I could sink his car in the lake. Maybe shred his thousand
dollar suits and his Italian loafers. Or, better yet, I could go on the news
and tell the world the Jennings aren’t the cover family for Holier Than Thou
Magazine like everyone thinks we are—well, except for me. No one thinks that
about me; I’ve made sure of that.

How do people
not
realize what a fucking hypocrite he
is? How can no one see what I see? Hell, my own sister doesn’t; I guess I can’t
expect someone outside the family to understand the level of hypocrisy he
attains with each breath he takes.

Mo jerks. Her shoulders roll as she heaves.

Great.

I slide her to the mattress and grab the waste basket. I
pull her across my lap and hold her hair away from the mess as she hurls.
Again. And Again.

I shake my head.

Want to fuck a girl? Then fuck a girl who wants to get
fucked. There are plenty of them out there, no need to drug one who isn’t game.
Hell, he didn’t even get to the part of the date where you find out if the girl
wants to get fucked. He skipped that part altogether. Double douche.

He better hope we don’t run into each other again. One punch
wasn’t nearly enough. I should’ve beaten his skull in, broken his fucking
fingers, and made sure he could never even think about doing this to another
girl.

* * *

Mo pushes up from my chest, swiping her hair away from her
face. “What happened? Oh, my God, Danny! Where is my
dress
? And where
are
your
freaking clothes?”

I crack an eyelid. Gray light spills through the slats in my
blinds. Man, she’s beautiful. I pull her against me and pat the back of her
head. “You puked on it. And me. Besides, I’m wearing clothes.”

Her voice raises an octave as she scrambles to the foot of
the bed. “Boxer briefs are
not
clothes.”

“Come on. It’s way early. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“No! And you’re—good lord, do you always have a—a…”

Damn. She’s not going to go back to sleep.

I push my fingers through my hair. “It’s
morning
wood,
Sweets. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Mo stands, only to sink to the edge of the bed, her head
between her knees. “What on Earth? Why am I dizzy? I didn’t even drink
anything.”

“Whatever your
date
gave you must’ve been some potent
shit. And you did down half of your soda before you tossed it in his face.”

She mumbles something unintelligible.

I lay across the bed next to her, arms hanging off the side.
“What’s that? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Where’s my dress?” She pronounces each word as though she’s
speaking to an imbecilic dog.

“I told you, you puked on it. It’s gross. I threw it into
the tub.”

Shit. I should’ve probably put some clothes on her, instead
of leaving her in her bra and panties.

Screwed the pooch on that one.

She groans. “I need to get dressed. I can’t go back to the
guest house in my underwear.”

“Oh, I don’t know,
Moan
-uh; you’re pretty fucking hot
dressed like that, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you. Gimme.”

I shake my head.

“Fine. One of your T-shirts then.”

I roll off the bed and dig through my drawer. I grab a shirt
and tug. Damn thing’s stuck. I yank harder and the shirt pops out, along with
three condom packages, which land on the carpet at Mo’s feet.

“Seriously?”

I gather them up. “Hey, at least I use protection.”

“Whatever.”

I hand her my shirt. She flops backward onto the mattress,
arm over her eyes, my shirt lying over her lacy bra. That blue scrap of fabric
and the one barely covering her curls will be burned into my memory forever.

I lay beside her.

She slides away from me and slips the shirt over her head,
poking her arms through. She gives me a falsely bright smile. “Okay. Well,
thank you for the rescue. I’m going to head back to my place. See ya.”

When she stands this time, she weaves a bit on her way to
the door.

“Maybe you ought to stay for a while.”

She pauses, grabbing the doorframe. “And have the staff find
me in your shirt and nothing else first thing in the morning? Yeah—no thanks.”

“And people thinking you and I are hooking up is such a bad
thing, why?”

“Because you’re a manwhore and I’m not anyone’s one night
stand.” Mo tosses my cock a look that would wither a lesser man’s woody. “No
telling where that thing’s been. There’s no way I’d sleep with you. The very
thought disgusts me.”

THREE

It takes all I’ve got to make it to the guest house without
falling over. The cotton stuffed into my head clouds my thoughts. I grab the
door handle and try to turn it. It doesn’t budge.

Perfect. It’s freaking locked.

I plop down on the warm concrete at the edge of the porch. I
need my keys. They’re in my bag, probably in Danny’s room. But, after that last
exchange, I can’t face him again. Not right now.

I threw up on him. And I’m such a huge liar.

I’m going to hell.

Either for lying or for the way I lust after Danny Jennings.
Probably both.

The image of his dick, hard and straining against his boxer
briefs, comes to the forefront of my mind. I had no idea a guy’s cock could get
that big. I mean, I knew they grow, but that thing…

Oh, Lord, what happened after we came home?

The last I remember is Danny punching Paul. The expression
on Paul’s face—too bad; he deserved it. Jackass.

I tuck my hand between my thighs. Did Danny and I…?

No. Surely something would
feel
different, right?
Would Danny do that?

Elbows on my knees, I prop my chin in my hands and close my
eyes.

The Danny I knew three years ago wouldn’t have taken
advantage of me, or any girl. Today’s Danny? I don’t know.

As if conjured from my thoughts, he appears in front of me,
dropping my purse onto the porch. “Need this?”

My gaze travels from his bare feet, along his jeans to that
V leading to his abs, up and over his crazy beautiful man chest. I continue
past his frown to clear green eyes. His brows knit over a pained expression.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think I hurt his feelings.
Right. Like that’s even possible.

I let out a huff of air. “Thanks.”

I stand and pull the hem of Danny’s shirt down as far as I
can; it hits me mid-thigh.

I dig out my key and unlock the door.

Danny stands in my doorway, his fingers hooked to the top of
the outside doorframe, showing off his ripped torso to perfection. I ignore the
desire bubbling in my lower belly.

In my room, I grab some shorts and a top of my own. I stop
in the bathroom to brush the funk out of my mouth. I even hop in the shower.
Perhaps it will clear my head.

If I take long enough, he’ll leave.

Nope.

When I return to the living room, he lounges on my sofa as
if he belongs here.

“Feel better?”

I rub my forehead, frowning. “No.”

He heads into my tiny kitchen. In just a minute, he’s back
with two cups of coffee. “Here, I made this while you cleaned up. It might
help.”

“Thanks.”

Whatever. I don’t have the energy to argue with him. I used
it all up earlier.

I set the cup on the floor and flop onto the couch. Rolling
to my side, I throw my feet up on the opposite end. Will he get the message, or
will I have to spell it out for him?

He picks up my legs and settles under them. His finger
circles my ankle, sending little electric vibes to parts of me that have no
business feeling anything from Danny.

I jerk my foot, but his big hand grabs it and pulls it
firmly against his abdomen. “Relax, will you? You need to rest; you had a rough
night.”

My stomach knots. Do I ask? Should I just forget it? Does it
matter if I don’t remember?

“What happened once we made it home, aside from my vomiting all
over us?”

He chuckles. “You don’t remember?”

I bite my thumbnail and shake my head.

His grin spreads wide, and his eyes twinkle. “Well, you had
the most incredible sex of your life—your words, not mine. You were a wild
thing. I tried the best I could to keep you off me, but you weren’t having it.
So, of course, I had to give you what you wanted. You’re welcome by the way.”

I kick him in the gut and swing my legs to the front of the
sofa. “No way!”

He crosses his arm over his stomach, that shit eating grin
on his face. “Oh yeah, Sweets. You said I’m better than any of your previous
lovers.”

A wave of calm flows over me. Thank heavens. “So, enlighten
me: How was I? Good? Do I stack up to your many and varied lays?”

“Meh. Passable. But with a little practice, I think you
could improve.” He rubs circles on my back. “Too bad you don’t remember, it
being the best experience of your life and all.”

With a roll of my eyes, I stand and head to my bedroom.

“You can let yourself out, Romeo. I’m going to take nap.” I turn
back. “Oh, and if you’re going to tell a big fat lie, you should get all your
facts first.”

I close the door.

Liar
and
manwhore.

Dick.

* * *

It takes a little work, but staying out of Danny’s path is
possible.

For someone with no job and no classes, he comes and goes a
lot. And there are a ton of people coming and going with him. Probably girls,
girls, and more girls. I’m not sure of that—I haven’t seen them. But, knowing
Danny, it stands to reason.

Monday and Wednesday and Friday are easy. Between school and
the shelter I’m able to stay gone for much of the week. Plus, both have the
advantage of keeping my mind off Danny and the thoughts that blast through my
brain the rest of the time.

But, today’s Sunday. Danny’s mom isn’t here to miss me, so
I’ll skip church. I’ve got no classes, no volunteer hours, and no friends. Not
to forget, no pool—thanks to the jackass.

Turning on the stereo, I set the volume just loud enough to
hear outside. I grab my sun lotion and head out back, leaving the door open so
the music can keep my mind occupied. I have to do something besides stare at
these four walls.

I love that the guest house is situated so it backs up to a
wooded area that wraps around its sides. Privacy is so underrated. But here, I
indulge in my one bad girl activity. Rachel and I started a couple of summers
ago. It’s our secret.

Nude sunbathing.

The warm sun on my breasts is heavenly. The way the breeze
stirs my curls relaxes me. I spread lotion on my arms, working it over my chest
and my nipples.

Unfortunately, applying lotion only brings to mind hands on
my body. All this week, I’ve gone to class, volunteered at the women’s shelter,
and I even went out with my friends—being extra careful about who got my
drinks. But it hasn’t mattered what I’ve done or how much I’ve packed into a
day; when I crawl into bed at night all I do is think about Danny.

His hands under my dress. Fingers grazing a place that had
never been touched. How much I wanted—still want—his fingers there. How wet my
panties were after he left that day. How damp they get every time thoughts of
his hands and his chest and—ugh. It all keeps running through my head.

I pour more lotion and run my hands down my legs as my mind
wanders to Danny. Moving up, my fingers glide over my clit. A little bit of
pressure there feels—good.

I close my eyes and imagine it’s Danny touching me. His hand
on this soft place between my thighs.

My breath catches as I take it further than I have before,
just a little dip between my pussy lips. What would it be like if Danny’s big
fingers were to sink into my folds?

I brush my teeth and head downstairs.

It’s been a week since I saved Mo from that train wreck of a
date. A week since I had my arms around her all night.

I’m not sure who’s avoiding whom. It might be her avoiding
me. Then again, maybe it’s me. I mean, I
should
avoid her. Like fucking
Ebola. Mo’s nothing but trouble wrapped up in a tempting, luscious bundle of
curves and attitude.

The television’s on in the living room. Must’ve been set to
record and something was left on. Dad stands behind the decadent pulpit, lights
glittering around him. Even from Mexico, he manages to do his weekly sermon,
live and televised. I stalk to the coffee table and snatch up the remote
control. I have to get him out of my face—out of my fucking head.

Dad will have my ass in a sling if he finds out Mo slept in
my bed. Shit, if he even
thinks
we’ve hooked up, he’ll fuck us all over.
All the pent-up fury from the last few years flows through my body. I hurl the
remote across the living room. It smacks the television with a loud crash,
leaving a great purple streak down his face where the impact cracked the screen
from the bottom edge up to the top corner. His image flickers and fades to
black.

The man is a control freak, ego-maniac. So damned worried
his reputation could be tarnished if his son and his ward get it on. He’s held
that over my head since that first summer Mo lived here.

Before Mo moved down to the guest house, she had the room
between me and Rachel. We’d gone to a movie. I almost kissed her in the car,
but we were interrupted.

Later that night I caught her in the hall outside of our
rooms. “Hey.”

She looked up with those big blue eyes. “Hi.”

“So, about earlier…” I stepped to her, taking her hand.

She nodded and licked her lips, igniting a spark in my
groin.

I backed her to the wall. “I said I want to kiss you; I
meant it.”

Her eyes got big as I moved in, but they fluttered closed.
Her hands came to rest on my chest and her sweet scent invaded my senses. Her
smooth skin teased my fingers as I pushed them into the hair at her nape.

I leaned closer, ready to taste her for the first time.

“Daniel Wayne Jennings.” Dad’s voice was fierce, the tone he
only used for the worst offenses.

Great.

I pulled away. Mo slipped out of my hands. Her door closed
as Dad stomped toward me.

He grabbed my arm and shoved me into my room, slamming the
door behind him.

I twisted out of his grip. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t believe this.”

My heart raced. “It was just a kiss—not even that
yet
.”

“What are you thinking? She’s your sister.” His lips pulled
tight over his teeth in a hard line.

“She’s not my
sister
. Are you freaking crazy?”

He took two strides, his finger pointed at my face. “She may
as well be. She lives in this house, like my child. You stay away from her,
Daniel. I mean it. Don’t let this go any further.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. What’s wrong with me and Mo
dating?”

His voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s unseemly, both of you
living under the same roof. No. It’s not happening.”

I crossed my arms. “Screw that. It’s not fair.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “Fair? I’ll give you fair. You
will cease this pursuit of Mona Lisa immediately or I’ll donate your trust fund
to the ministry where it will do some good.”

My entire body tensed. “You can’t do that. That’s my money
from Mom’s parents.”

He propped his hands at his waist. “I can, and I will. They
made me and your mother trustees. Either one of us can make decisions on how
it’s doled out to you. We’ll do whatever we want.”

“Mom wouldn’t agree to that. Not over this crock of shit.”