Blue-Collar Bad Boys Next Door: The Full Eight-Book Collection

by Mazzy King

  “Could you have picked a worse goddamn time?” My face is hot enough to fry an egg. “What did you think, that I was going to pass up an opportunity to see the world on a trip I’d planned for over a year because you finally decided to grow a pair and tell me how you feel?”

  The electricity snapping between us is strong enough to light up every house on this block for a month. I want to slap him and kiss him and jump on him, all at the same time.

  “Maybe I did,” he replies. “Maybe I did. And that makes me an idiot.”

  My fists clench at my sides.

  “Are you two done?”

  Grandma’s calm voice makes us both whirl toward the kitchen, where she leans against the doorway, arms folded. She doesn’t look disturbed. In fact, she looks rather amused.

  “Sorry, Mrs. O,” Dylan says, sounding genuinely abashed. He’s always been so respectful of his elders, particularly my grandma. “I—sorry.”

  Grandma lifts her brows at me, waiting.

  “Sorry, Grandma,” I say through my teeth.

  “Come eat. Food’s hot.” She walks back into the kitchen, then tosses over her shoulder, “If you want my opinion, you’re both morons. But that’s just me.”

  In the kitchen, she insists on serving us our meals. I love her cooking, but when I try to shoo her into her chair and let me serve, she waves me off.

  “I’m old, not useless,” she says. “You’ll sit if you know what’s good for you.”

  I sit—right across from Dylan. Our knees brush under the table. Our eyes meet for a moment, then I glance away.

  Grandma serves him a giant piece of lasagna with salad and bread on the side with a big smile. Then she pats his shoulder and glances at me. “Dylan made sure the kitchen appliances have power after I tripped a circuit earlier. That way you’ll actually be able to use them while I’m gone. And if you need anything, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help you.”

  I give Grandma a suspicious look as she hands me my plate, but her face is the picture of innocence. “Uh-huh. That was very nice of him.”

  “You know,” she says in this fretful tone, sitting in her seat, “it’d make me feel so much better to know you were together while I was gone. You’re a young, single woman, after all, and, well, this city isn’t as safe as it used to be.”

  I know exactly what she’s doing. “I’ll be fine, Grandma. Besides, I’m sure Dylan has his own life going on, just like I have mine.” I clear my throat. “In fact, I have a date tomorrow night.”

  “What the hell?” Grandma says in dismay, just as Dylan’s fork clatters to his plate. He clears his throat and resumes eating. “With who?”

  The truth is, I actually don’t know. I let my friend fix me up on a blind date. “This guy,” I say. “He’s, um, really great.”

  “Where are you going?” she demands, actually sounding pissed.

  “Just the neighborhood bar and grill around the corner.”

  “Hmm.” She jabs a finger at me. “Blind dates are rarely a good idea, young lady.”

  I meet Dylan’s stare across the table. He’s jabbing his fork into his lasagna. “I’ll be fine.”

  His steady, dark eyes are full of a challenge that heats me to my core. Somehow, I feel like he can sense my bluffing.

  But he’s good and jealous. I smile and take a huge bite of lasagna.

  Good. He deserves it.

  3

  Dylan

  Well. That was a damn disaster.

  I spend the day at work thinking of how dinner went last night and cursing myself. The woman I love finally comes home after six long months abroad, and instead of saying, “Hi, Summer. It’s great to see you again. I hope your trip went well,” I act like an ass.

  Not that she made it any easier.

  I was up all night, tossing and turning, thinking about not only our exchange, but the fact that she’s so close by now and I can’t run from the memories or my feelings any longer. But she broke my heart once…and I can’t go through that again.

  Unfortunately, seeing her brought all those feelings back…and then some.

  I’ve spent the past six months wondering what the hell possessed me to tell her my feelings for her. Maybe it was the fact that she was going away, and I thought I might never see her again. Maybe because I was afraid she’d meet some English lord or some modern Scottish highlander and get swept off her feet, away from me. What do I have to offer her? I’m just a blue-collar electrician who’s never been outside the US and makes a modest salary. She’s the jet-setting, adventurous, cultured artist.

  Yet, I needed her to know the truth in that moment.

  And then she said, “Thank you.”

  Thank you!

  I was embarrassed and couldn’t show my face at her going-away party. I had no idea I was even missed until I got a text from her while she was at the airport, angry and hurt.

  That was the last time we spoke.

  It shames me now to think of it, to think that my pride held me back from saying goodbye to the woman I love, even if she doesn’t love me back. Anything could have happened to her on that trip. Like most of my other loved ones, something might have happened that took her away from me forever.

  I got updates about her through Mrs. O. I never told her what happened between her granddaughter and me, but I don’t think I really needed to. Somehow, Mrs. O knows everything anyway.

  When I arrive home, my sights set on a four-pack of my favorite craft beer and some leftover lasagna Mrs. O sent me home with, I spot Summer gliding out the front door, looking beautiful in a flowing, low-cut, floral summer dress. Her thick, shoulder-length dark hair is parted on the side and drifts around her collarbone.

  Oh yeah…her big “date.”

  “Good evening,” she says breezily.

  “‘Good evening’?” I repeat. “Is that kind of formality, like, a European thing?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I swear, you’re impossible to talk to.”

  “So, a big date, huh?” I scan her from head to toe. Up close, she’s even more stunning. I try not to stare at the hint of cleavage peeking above her neckline. I try not to remember what her skin tastes like.

  “Yes.” She tilts her head. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  I shrug. “Where’d you meet this guy?”

  Summer jams a hand onto her hip. “What did I just say?”

  I hold my hands up. “Just asking. You seemed all excited about him last night at dinner.”

  She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “I—yeah. He’s great. Like I said.”

  I fold my arms, studying her. “Really. What’s his name?”

  There goes that fish-out-of-water impression again. “…John.”

  “You’ve never met, have you?” I laugh out loud. “A blind date? Are you kidding me? Summer, come on.”

  “I said it’s none of your business,” she says primly, but her cheeks flush pink. “I’m going to be late.”

  “I’m gonna call your grandma,” I threaten. Granted, Mrs. O left this afternoon and is probably waist-deep in wine as we speak, but that might be interesting to hear her yell at her granddaughter.

  “It’s not like I’m meeting him at his place,” Summer says. “It’s the neighborhood watering hole. I’ll be fine. I am a big girl, Dylan, thank you.” She yanks open the car door and gets in behind the wheel. With an impatient wave at me, she takes off.

  Keep an eye on my granddaughter, Dylan, was the last thing Mrs. O told me before she shuffled, cackling, to join her girlfriends on the bus.

  Well, that granddaughter is a grown woman, and she has a date.

  I walk into the house and slam the door.

  Summer

  “So,” my date, whose name is actually Alex, says, swirling a finger around the rim of his cocktail. “Who’s your favorite NFL team?”

  “Ah…” I blink. What a deep, probing question. “I don’t really follow football that closely. I mean, I keep up with my alma mater�
��s team during college football season. And I’ve attended some Super Bowl parties, but I don’t have a favorite.”

  Alex nods. “Ravens or Cowboys? It’s important. Answer based on your instinct.”

  “Um, why?” I lift a brow as I take a sip of my Moscow Mule.

  My date releases a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his blond hair. “Forget it. You took too long.”

  What in the actual fuck? I clear my throat. “Tell me something about you. What was the single most important event of your young life that you think shaped you into who you are today?”

  “Probably seeing the Cowboys play when I was ten.” He nods. “Yeah, that.”

  I keep a straight face. “How do you think that shaped your life?”

  “Well, that cemented me becoming a lifelong Cowboys fan. That was the right answer, by the way. Cowboys.”

  “Sure.” I force a smile. “Let’s talk about something that’s not sports-related. What kinds of movies do you like?”

  “Any football movie.”

  Okay, this guy is fucking dull, and this is starting to feel like an interview, not a conversation.

  “I’ve got a question,” he says.

  I don’t bother looking up as I swirl the ice in my drink. “What’s that?”

  Alex leans toward me, one side of his mouth curled up. “Tell me how many more cocktails it’ll take to get you out of that dress.”

  Breathe…

  I tilt my head. “I don’t understand the question.”

  He shrugs. “You’re gorgeous. And I’d like to take you home.”

  “That’s still not a question,” I tell him, clenching my fist under the table. “And this date’s over.” I grab my clutch purse.

  His hand lands on my wrist. “Don’t rush off. You haven’t finished your drink.”

  “Get your hand off me,” I say through my teeth.

  Instead of listening, he tugs, pulling me back down into my seat. “I paid good money for these drinks. You’ll finish it.”

  Destroy him!

  Before I can draw breath to lay into him, a shadow falls over the table, and a large, strong hand lands on Alex’s shoulder. He jumps, swiveling his head toward the owner’s hand.

  Dylan gives him a chilly smile. “Gonna have to ask you to remove your hand, please.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Your worst nightmare if you don’t let her go.”

  I hold my breath, waiting to see if Alex will challenge him or back off. Wisely, he releases my wrist.

  Dylan glances at me. “Ready to go?”

  I stand, gazing down at Alex. “Thanks for the drink. Good luck with…life in general, I guess.”

  Dylan offers me his arm, and I take it. We walk silently through the lounge outside.

  Then I whirl on him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He sighs, folding his arms. “Helping out a friend in need, apparently.”

  “No, you followed me here to crash my date!” I insist.

  “Yeah, and you’re welcome,” he replies. “Since things were obviously going just so well.”

  “My personal life is none of your business unless I make it your business!”

  “Fair enough, but your grandmother told me to make sure you were okay while she was gone. And I had a bad feeling about this ‘date.’ Looks like I was right.” His arms are still folded across his chest, and I try not to be distracted by the muscles bulging out under the sleeves of his T-shirt.

  I have no return argument. With a growl of frustration, I stalk over to my car, get in, and take off.

  “He’s got some fucking nerve,” I mutter. A tingle flies through me, recalling the utter coolness he handled Alex with. The utter lack of fear…and the possessiveness in his eyes.

  “I’m not his to possess!” I snarl, glancing in the rearview. He’s right behind me, following me back to the neighborhood.

  A memory from long ago, of warm, strong hands roving all over me, of lips following suit, of being filled in a way I’ve never experienced before, flashes through my mind. Once, I was his to possess.

  Chill, my inner voice says. He did save you from that creep. He didn’t have to look out for you, but he did. He has your back. He cares about you. He—

  I swallow hard.

  Loves you.

  We both pull into our respective driveways. Dylan hops out of his car and I jump out of mine. We meet in the narrow stretch of grass between our two houses.

  His brows draw together, full lips pulled back. “Look, Summer, your personal life is just that, and if I’m not a part of it anymore, fine. But you needed me tonight, whether you want to admit it or not. And if not? Fine.” His dark, stormy eyes slowly roll over me, from the top of my head to my toes. “You look beautiful. Have a terrific night.”

  Then he turns his back on me, stalking toward the front door.

  I draw a deep breath.

  “Just a minute.”

  4

  Dylan

  “Just a minute.”

  I whirl around, gritting my teeth. “What, Summer? What now?”

  She stalks up the steps toward me. We lock gazes for a long moment, then she grabs me and pushes me up against the door.

  The sudden sensation of her full, hungry lips on mine is like a triple shot of whiskey and goes straight to my brain. All the pain and anguish around the months I spent thinking I made a fool of myself melt away as her warm body presses to mine.

  Moaning, I slide my arms around her waist, pulling her close as our mouths open wide for the other and we reintroduce our tongues to each other. Her lips are as soft as I remember them being and I can’t get enough.

  “Inside,” I breathe, reaching behind me to fumble for the doorknob, and then we’re stumbling inside my house. I shove the door closed with my foot, our mouths still consuming each other.

  I push her against the wall, tilting my hips against hers so she can feel how much I want her. How much I’ve been wanting her. How I’ve never stopped.

  I cup her face gently in my hands, hardly believing I have her in my house. My arms. “Are you sure, Summer? I can’t…I can’t do rejection a second time.”

  She reaches up to grab my wrists. “I’m sure, Dylan. I want you. I need you. And I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  I gather her in my arms again. The next kiss we share is sweet, long, lingering.

  But now…I need her.

  Without another word, I lift her in my arms and carry her to my bedroom. I set her down on her feet, then return my mouth to hers as I peel that beautiful dress off her even more beautiful body.

  “Dylan,” she whispers. “I want you so much.”

  My cock throbs in response. “I want you too. Forever, Summer.”

  I strip off my clothes, not taking my eyes off her smooth, curvy body, standing bare before me.

  I slide my arms around her and lay her down on the bed, then crawl between her thighs.

  I lower my mouth to one breast while I tease her other nipple. Her tits are so soft and full, and I love the way her nipple grows hard against my tongue. I suck it gently, nibbling her lightly and making her squeal.

  “Ticklish?” I tease.

  “You know I am!”

  “Let’s see if you’re ticklish…farther down.”

  I kiss, suck, and nibble my way down her belly and over the soft, hot mound between her thighs.

  With one long, slow lick from her opening to her clit, I taste her thoroughly, loving her immediate cry of pleasure. I close my lips around her throbbing clit and flick it with the tip of my tongue. Then I quickly dip my tongue down lower and slide it deep through her slit, lapping up all her sweet cream.

  “Open these thighs wide for me,” I murmur. “I need to eat this pussy until you come in my mouth.”

  “Fuck, Dylan,” she moans, drawing her knees to her ribs and spreading herself open nice and wide.

  With soft, hungry grunts, I eat her pussy like it’s a dish of crème brûlée—although
the sweet dessert has nothing on her.

  “I’m gonna come!” she gasps, arching her back. Her breasts thrust upward, and I can’t keep my hands off them. “Dylan…”

  Her moans build on top of each other until they shatter in a soft scream. Her body convulses as she bursts in my mouth like a ripe orange. I massage her with my tongue until her spasms stop.

  Before I can say a word, she pushes me back to my knees, kneels before me with her round ass in the air, and proceeds to swallow my cock.

  “Oh, fuck!” I let out a strangled grunt, wrapping my hand in her hair. Her eager, tight, wet mouth is better than anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life—except for being buried inside her.

  After several long, delicious moments of her mouth wrapped around my dick, I gently withdraw from her mouth. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop, and I want to be deep inside you, Summer.”

  She licks her lips and lies back, spreading her legs wide seductively.

  I move over her, and our mouths meet in deep, wet kisses as I line up my cock at the entrance of her dripping wet pussy.

  “Fuck. You’re wet, baby.”

  Her hands drift to my ass as she moans with each slow thrust inside her. “God, Dylan, you feel so good!”

  I nudge into her slowly, her sharp gasp of pleasure also threatening my self-control. Finally I reach her limit. She’s tight and wet and hot and I have no idea how I’m going to last long enough to make her come before I lose my shit.

  Summer digs her nails into my back as I plunge in and out of her. “Don’t stop, Dylan.”

  “Come for me,” I murmur against her mouth. “I want that wet pussy to come hard on my dick.”

  She groans in response, her cries building. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, fucking her hard and deep, my heart thundering in my ears. “Yes! Oh my god, don’t fucking stop!”

  Her pussy clenches tight around my cock. A gush of wetness bursts from her as she wails out her climax, coming hard and shaking in my arms.

  “Fuck yes,” I growl, my cock driving in and out of her as it hardens to a point of no return. With a deep roar, I empty my seed deep inside her as waves of hot pleasure roll over me like the ocean.