Love Next Door

by Hunting, Helena

Another shiver runs through me. “Tonight, I do.” It’s a breathy whisper.

  He peeks up at me and grins. “And before tonight?”

  “I was on the fence.”

  “What changed?”

  “Tonight you showed me the real you.”

  His lips touch the back of my hand, and I exhale a shuddery breath.

  “Okay?” he asks.

  “Okay.” I nod.

  He lifts his head, eyes searching mine as he twirls an errant curl around his finger, then drags a single finger along the edge of my jaw.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you.”

  He nods in agreement. “It’s part of your allure, just like mine is needling the shit out of you until I get a reaction.”

  “You’re definitely good at that.”

  “Good enough that if I kissed you, you might kiss me back?”

  “There’s a reasonably good chance of that.”

  He leans in closer and tips his head to the right, so I angle mine and meet him halfway. Just before our lips connect, he tucks his thumb under my chin and mutters, “I’d better not fuck this up.”

  My chuckle turns into a sigh when his lips brush over mine, sending an electric jolt through me. We both still.

  “Did you feel that?”

  “It’s probably just the storm.” I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his mouth back to mine to see whether I’m right. I also notice that the patter of rain has slowed significantly, and it’s not nearly as forceful or violent as it was when we first stumbled in here.

  I don’t have much time to focus on those details because the moment Van’s lips connect with mine again, a bolt of sizzling lust zings through me. Heat follows in a heady rush when his velvet-soft tongue sweeps out to meet mine. We both groan, and the hand around the back of his neck tightens, as if I’m trying to anchor him to me. At the same time his fingers slide along the edge of my jaw and tangle in my hair.

  Van angles his head more, and I mirror him, opening wider, giving him access to explore, go deeper, give and take more.

  I’ve been kissed plenty of times in my life—some of them have been amazing, while others have been lackluster—but this takes me right back to that kiss on the beach all those years ago. This is lust combustion. I don’t know if it’s pure, unfiltered chemistry or the fact that we’ve shared so much of ourselves tonight, but I find myself sinking into this kiss, desperate for it not to end.

  Our twined hands part, mine finding his knee, and he mirrors the movement. He spreads his legs wider, and I slide to the edge of my chair, wanting to get closer. I haven’t had this kind of contact in months. And what I did have with Jason was good—nice, like a pretty sunset, something to appreciate and enjoy—but this isn’t the same.

  When it’s clear that my sitting on this chair is impeding our ability to get closer to each other, I snake my arm around his neck and rise, tapping on the outside of his left knee, hoping he understands what I’m asking without having to disconnect my mouth from his and use actual words.

  Thankfully, he seems to be able to read my mind. He closes his knees and we change positions, his knees inside mine now, giving me the opportunity to use him as my chair. I sit on his thighs and slide forward until we’re chest to chest.

  It doesn’t matter that we’re both wearing jeans; I can still feel that prominent bulge, now nestled between my thighs. We make plaintive sounds into each other’s mouths, the kiss gaining fervor. One hand stays tangled in my wet hair; the other arm circles my waist and pulls me tighter against him, bodies flush. I roll my hips and press closer, as if I’m trying to meld us into one.

  All the while, I let my free hand explore, tracing the contour of muscle under his shirt. The hairs on his arm stand on end, and goose bumps flash over his skin. I edge back a little, the chair groaning with the shift in weight. Van’s fingers flex on my hip, slipping lower, pressing into the soft fleshy part of my ass.

  I find the hem of his shirt and ease a palm underneath, hoping he’ll get the hint and do some exploring of his own. It doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and his warm palm slides up my back, pulling my shirt up, causing me to shiver as the cool air hits my skin.

  I roll my hips again, and he jerks. And all of a sudden, a massive crack echoes through the cabin. For a moment I think it’s the storm. At least until we both go crashing to the cabin floor, the chair a splintered, broken mass underneath us.

  I push up on my arms, my wet hair hanging in my face and brushing Van’s cheek as I meet his shocked gaze. I grimace when I notice the bead of blood welling on his top lip.

  “You okay?” His voice is full of gravel, his erection still making itself known between my thighs.

  “I’m fine.” I swipe at the blood and hold my finger up. “I nicked you, though.”

  “Totally worth it.” His tongue sweeps along the cut, and he curls his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me back in for another kiss. This one is as long and heated as the first, despite the fact that Van is lying on a filthy cabin floor with a broken chair underneath him.

  Eventually I pull back, both of us breathing hard. “I think the rain has slowed enough that we could go back to your place. If you want.” I bite my lip, aware that by putting this option on the table, I’m opening myself up to a whole host of potential problems. But the flip side is exploring the incredible chemistry we seem to have, and I’m not sure the downside outweighs the potential for some awesome sex with a really hot, surprisingly down-to-earth guy.

  Van glances around the cabin. I can see the moment he comes to the same conclusion I have—that this place is disgusting. There’s no way I want to have sex in this nasty old hunting cabin and risk the spider- and bug-bite mementos.

  “Yeah. Yes. Absolutely. My place is way better than this.”

  CHAPTER 14

  KISSES AND CHEMISTRY

  Van

  Dillion pushes to her feet and holds out her hand to help me up. We both stand there for a second, staring at the destroyed chair, before we turn to each other and glue our mouths back together.

  Dillion is nothing and everything like I expected her to be.

  She’s a mix of bold and intense and soft and sexy.

  And she sure as hell knows how to kiss, so I’m going to go ahead and guess that this chemistry we happen to share will be even more amazing once we get our clothes off.

  After a few minutes of dancing tongues—or it could be longer than that; I lose track of time—she puts her hands on my shoulders and pulls back. We’re both panting. She covers my mouth with her palm. “Let’s put a pin in this until we get back to your place, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” The word is muffled by her hand.

  She nabs her phone from the table and leads me back out into the forest. It’s still raining, but it’s slowed considerably. The path isn’t wide enough for us to navigate side by side, so I follow behind, the light on her phone bobbing unsteadily with her hurried steps. We’re almost jogging we’re moving so quickly.

  Eventually the path widens, and I fall into step beside her. We reach the turnaround where her truck is parked.

  “Are you good to drive?” I ask. “I only had one beer, and that was a while ago.”

  She hesitates for a moment, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, before she passes me her keys. “I’m not sure what the vodka-cran ratio was, and one beer seems less potent than what I was drinking.”

  Dillion gives me directions back to the cottage. I park at her place, and she glances at the house, its windows darkened. We bypass the trailer and cut through the path between our lots, breaking into a run as the rain picks up again just before we reach the covered porch.

  I fiddle with the lock, struggling to get it to open.

  Dillion elbows me out of the way. “It’s tricky sometimes, especially when it’s damp.” She gets it to turn, and we finally tumble into the cottage, blissfully warm and dry and so much cleaner than the hunting cabin, despite the amount of clutter
. I still haven’t tackled the inside, partly because I don’t want to disrupt the memories, and also because it’s a daunting task that feels like it will take an eternity. And I want to get the garage build underway. Cleaning it out has taken a lot longer than I expected.

  Dillion glances around, eyes sliding across the open space, catching on trinkets, almost as though she’s cataloging all the things inside, accounting for them like a checklist. It occurs to me that she’s spent an incredible amount of time here. Far more than my few weeks a year plus holidays could ever account for.

  A violent shiver rips through her, and she wraps her arms around herself, teeth chattering twice before her jaw flexes and she clamps them together.

  “Hot shower?” I offer.

  Her gaze swings to me, and she catches one side of her bottom lip between her teeth, the skin turning white briefly as it slides through on her nod.

  “Alone or together?” I ask.

  At the same time she says, “You’re coming with me.”

  We both grin, and then we’re heading for the bathroom. I turn on the shower, testing the water to make sure it’s not scalding. I tried to adjust the pressure, but now it vacillates between jet stream and periodic trickle. We turn and step into each other’s personal space. Our mouths connect, and this time it’s not quite so frantic or intense. A slower build, the knowledge that we’re moving toward more, the anticipation of pleasure causing us to take our time.

  It’s strange how we seem to know what the other is planning to do before we do it. Dillion and I both reach for the hem of each other’s shirt at the same time, fingertips brushing over cool skin that pebbles in a wave. We break the kiss long enough to get our shirts over our heads, and then we’re connected again, skin to skin, because Dillion isn’t wearing a bra.

  Her breasts are small but full and pert, her tight nipples brushing below my chest. She’s a head shorter than me, forcing me to tip my chin down and her to tilt hers up. We kiss again, hands roaming over exposed flesh. I brush the underside of her breast, and she arches and moans, her hands gliding down my back. She cups my ass and gives it a firm squeeze before she follows the edge of my belt around to the buckle.

  We break apart again, tugging, unbuttoning, unzipping each other and then removing our own pants, leaving me naked and Dillion in a pair of plain black panties. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband and drags them down her thighs, eyes locked on mine for a moment until gravity and curiosity pull them downward. Her tongue peeks out when her gaze reaches my erection, thick and straining toward her.

  A slow grin forms, and she kicks her panties off and steps back into me. Her palms land on my chest, fingertips tickling my skin as they glide down and brush gently along the length of me. My erection kicks, and her smile widens, fingers wrapping around me.

  I let my gaze drop as she strokes slowly, thumb sweeping over the ridge to the head and then back down again. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun tonight, Van.”

  I nod my agreement and pull the shower curtain back. We step in together, still touching, still exploring each other’s bodies. We soap each other up, teasing and taunting, fingers dipping and skipping over sensitive parts as the bathroom fills with steam and we warm ourselves with body heat and sensual touches.

  When the water starts to cool, I turn off the shower and we dry each other off, kissing paths along erogenous zones, seeing who can elicit the deepest groan or the loudest sigh. We’re kissing our way across the living room, still naked, bumping into furniture along the way and laughing into each other’s mouths, when I nearly trip backward over the coffee table. We finally make it to my bedroom.

  I’m glad I took the time to make my bed this morning and put the laundry in a basket. It’s a small space, just enough room for a bed and a dresser, but it doesn’t need to be more.

  I sit down on the mattress and pull her between my thighs. Her breasts are right in my face, begging for attention, so I latch onto her nipple. Dillion arches and slides her fingers into my hair on a low moan. The other hand drops to my thigh, fingertips ghosting higher until they graze my shaft.

  When she makes a move to wrap her hand around me, I disengage from her nipple and lift my head enough so I can meet her slightly disgruntled, confused gaze. That bewilderment grows even more when I shake my head. At least until I say, “I’m already too jacked up; I don’t need the extra attention right now.”

  Her eyes flare. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.” I flick her nipple with my tongue. “Don’t make me regret telling you that.”

  She’s about to reply when I latch on again and suck. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and her eyes roll up.

  Everything about Dillion seems to be a contradiction. She’s intense, harsh, and hard. She’s soft, sweet, and saucy. And I have a feeling she’s a bit of an adventure in the bedroom.

  I wrap my hands around her waist and edge a knee between her thighs. “Open for me, please.”

  And she does. Immediately. Without question. I slide both knees between her legs and set her on my thighs, but far back, so her ass is resting on my knees.

  “Hook your legs around mine,” I tell her.

  She gives me a questioning look but complies, probably wondering what the hell I’m doing. Even I’m wondering that. I don’t know her that well, not really, but I feel like I do, as if I’ve known her my entire life.

  Regardless, we’re here and naked, and she’s made it very clear she wants the same thing as I do—connection and orgasms.

  I’ve missed this feeling. The one where I get to share power with someone else. To give and take. And know that when she comes, it will be because she trusts me enough to let go, even if we haven’t spent that much time together without biting each other’s heads off or pushing buttons just to get a reaction.

  When her feet are hooked around the backs of my calves, I spread my legs, opening her wider. She jolts with the sudden movement, and her fingernails dig into the back of my neck until she steadies again.

  I cover her knees with my palms. “Okay?”

  She arches a brow. “I guess it depends on what you’re planning to do now.”

  I slide my hands up the inside of her thighs, stopping when I reach the apex, and grin. “Make you feel good.”

  “Have at it, then.” Her own smile is mischievous.

  I brush along either side of her sex with my thumbs, but I keep my gaze locked on hers, at least until Dillion’s eyes flutter closed. Then I look down, drinking in the sight of her spread wide open for me. I tease her until her toes dig into the backs of my calves and bring her to climax with my fingers, spurred on by her low murmurs of encouragement.

  Her entire body goes still and rigid for a moment, a low groan bubbling up and spilling free as her hips jerk with her orgasm.

  When she goes boneless, I slide back on the mattress, taking her with me as I stretch out along the comforter. Dillion straddles my hips and settles over my erection, hot and wet and right damn well there. Our mouths connect, and we swallow each other’s desperate sounds. I slap blindly on the nightstand table, find the drawer, and pull it open.

  Dillion breaks the kiss long enough to lean over and grab a condom. She sits back, tears it open, rolls it on, and rises up. Her gaze lifts to mine, and she sinks down. I grip her hips, the sensation too much and not enough.

  She exhales a long, slow breath when her ass meets my thighs and rolls her hips, murmuring, “So good.”

  Her palms smooth up my chest and come to rest on my pecs. She leans in and sucks my bottom lip between hers, then whispers, “I want you on top of me.”

  I flip us over and settle in the cradle of her hips. Her legs wrap around my waist, feet hooking at the center of my back. And then I start to move, finding a slow rhythm that allows me to stay deep, at least at first. Soon the slow grind shifts, and with every Yes and Please and Harder and Just like that, don’t stop I gain momentum, the bed creaking, headboard hitting the wall with each thrust. Something falls to the floo
r, a piece of art maybe, and for a moment Dillion cranes to look over my shoulder before she decides it doesn’t matter and goes back to rolling her hips.

  The orgasm sneaks up on me, rising up and crashing down like a tidal wave. I drop down, trying not to put my full weight on her, and nuzzle into her neck. We’re both sweaty and panting and, judging from the feel of Dillion, basically boneless.

  Eventually I push up on my arm so I can see her face. Her eyes are soft and glassy, cheeks flushed, curls spread out over my pillow in a sandy wave. She looks beautiful and like this is exactly where she belongs.

  “Stay the night?”

  CHAPTER 15

  THE SECRETS OF BEE

  Dillion

  I must hesitate a beat too long before answering, because Van’s deliciously gorgeous face goes from open to shuttered in a heartbeat. “Unless you don’t want to.” He starts to roll off me, and I stop him by squeezing my feet, hooked behind his back. He’s still very much filling me up, and I feel residual aftershocks every so often, my muscles clenching below the waist, the orgasm slow to wane.

  “I want to stay.” I glance over his shoulder at the place where the picture was hanging, the single nailhead a pinprick. “But if more things fall off the walls in the middle of the night, I’m probably going back to my place.”

  His smile returns, and he barks out a laugh. “You think Bee is haunting us? That picture fell because I was plowing you into the mattress so hard the bed frame probably left dents in the drywall.” He stretches out, hips pressing into mine as he skims the top of the headboard and shows me his white, powdery fingertips. “See?”

  I fling my hand out in the opposite direction. “Yeah, but it fell off the wall on the other side of the room.”

  “You didn’t seem too bothered by it when it happened.”

  “I was four hard thrusts away from an orgasm—a meteor could’ve been heading straight for us, and I maybe would have tried to roll us out of the way, but otherwise I was focused on the goal.”

  Van kisses the end of my nose and rolls off me. He’s definitely an excellent lover. Attentive, demanding, entirely in control, and yet incredibly patient and unhurried.