“Why?”
“Because it's hard to be mad at you when you're being the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Best thing? Tor, I got you sold into sex slavery. I mean, technically, Velez owns you. He told me he has a receipt.”
“Be quiet now, doctor, you're ruining the moment, again.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, then. Poured her heart and soul into it, hoping he was able to fathom just how much she cared about him. How much she adored him and loved him.
“When you do that,” he breathed after she'd pulled away. “It's like I can feel my heart. Like it's only beating because you give it a reason to. Thank you, Victoria.”
“See,” she chuckled, and she rubbed her chest against his. “Talking like that can get you anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Prove it,” he hissed, and she had to surpress a moan when she felt his fingers dragging down her back.
“Well, you said something earlier about crazy illegal sex, or something, I'm not sure, I tend to tune out when you babble. Or we could -”
She let out a shout when Landon abruptly picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Then she laughed when he started carrying her back towards the stairs.
“Hey!” Liam's voice shouted from across the club. “What happened to lunch?”
“It's two o'clock!” Wulf yelled as well. Tori managed to lift herself up enough to shrug at them.
“Sorry, guys,” she laughed as Landon started taking the stairs two at a time. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Please,” he grunted. “This time tomorrow, you'll still be tied to the bed posts.”
“Do you think we're sex crazed?” she asked, skimming her hand under his scrubs and smoothing it over his hip, tap dancing her fingers across his abs.
“No,” he replied, kicking open the door to the upstairs club and marching across the floor.
“Really? We do have, like, a ridiculous amount of sex.”
“I think we're in love,” he informed her. “Which means I want to spend every moment I can as close to your heart as I can, with nothing separating us, not even clothing.”
“Jesus, Landon, that was really beautiful,” Tori whispered, starting to tear up. He snorted again, then carried her out to the alley.
“Damn straight it was,” he agreed. “I also think we're hot and horny and you're ridiculously good at giving head.”
Tori wanted to shout at him for ruining the beautiful moment, but she laughed instead. It was so him. So them.
So completely not perfect that it's like an accident. Like an act of nature.
Like an explosion.
MORE FROM THE AUTHOR
THE KANE TRILOGY
"... thanks to Stylo for getting me lost, breaking the rules, and "going there". This was fresh and dark ..." - Penelope Douglas, NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author of the Fall Away series and Corrupt
Degradation
Separation
Reparation
Completion
Reception
STANDALONES
"I could not fault one moment of this story, I devoured every word and every beautiful depraved page. Days later I am still thinking about it and I know that it will be one of those books that will be etched into my soul, I honestly loved it that much." - I Love Book Love blog
The Bad Ones
My Time in the Affair
Just a Little Junk
THE MERCENARIES
Best Laid Plans
Out of Plans
The Mercenaries: Boxset
TWIN ESTATES NOVELS
"... only one author I know continues to blow my ever-loving mind with the sheer gutsiness and uniqueness of her stories ... Stylo Fantôme continues to write with such intelligence and verve ... once again, she delivers with a book that is hot sexy escapism at its finest." - Natasha is a Book Junkie
Neighbors
The Neighborhood
Block Party
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Let's just jump right into it, shall we?
Thanks to all my beta readers – Deanna, Jennifer, Nanci, Paige, Teri, Andrea, and Rebecca. Your notes and your blunt honesty always help turn my stories into the best versions of themselves. And special shout out to Angie, who has beta read everything since Separation, but extenuating circumstances prevented her from being able to read this one. You were there in spirit, your critiquing voice in my head, and I can't wait to have you back.
Of course, as always, Ratula. Velez is literally her husband – and I mean literally LITERALLY – so thank you for sharing him with the world. Hopefully he'll get his own book some day.
To Give Me Books for always taking me on, despite my bad communication skills and last minute requests.
Najla Qamber Designs for the amazing cover, my favorite in the series. And Champagne Formats, for the amazing interior.
To every blog and bookstagrammer and reader and reviewer who read and shared and posted and followed these neighbors' adventure from start to finish.
To the new house we moved into just a month ago – weird to thank an inanimate object, but I feel so comfortable and at peace here, it had to be mentioned. Hopefully more stories will come out of this place.
And to Mr. F, for being down with last minute moves and adventures and Mardi Gras costumes and my crazy work hours and all that jazz.
SOUNDTRACK
Songs that I listened to while writing, songs that made me think of the story, and a couple that inspired actual scenes.
● Halsey – Bad at Love
● Huey Lewis and the News – I Want a New Drug
● Amy Winehouse – Rehab
● Burak Yeter – Tuesday
● Kid Cudi – Pursuit of Happiness
● Olly Murs – Troublemaker
● The Neighbourhood – Sweater Weather
● Camila Cabello – Never Be The Same
● Symon – Lonely Girl
● Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats – Son of a Bitch
● Charlie Puth – Dangerously
HOUSE ARREST
A Twin Estates Novel
maybe someday ...
“This is such a bad idea,” Tori grumbled, folding her arms across her chest.
“Stop bitching,” Landon grumbled right back, but he playfully bumped her shoulder with his arm. She glared at him, then reached up and grabbed his headband, yanking it down so it thwacked him in the forehead. He let out a shout and stumbled away from her.
“I'm not bitching,” she reasoned. “I'm pointing out something really obvious.”
“Not bitching, maybe. Being a bitch? Definitely,” he snapped, adjusting the band around his head.
He hadn't had a hair cut since before Bali, and in the eight or more months since then, his hair had gotten wild and long and bushy on his head. It was how he'd looked when Tori had first met him. He always said he was too lazy to go to the barber, but she secretly believed he grew it out to further differentiate from his twin brother, Liam.
“I just can't believe you talked me into okaying this,” she groaned, leaning over the curb and looking up and down the street.
“Babe, it's gonna be fine. He never used, so there's no danger of him 'corrupting' me,” Landon assured her.
“Maybe not corrupting, but triggering? Yeah, that's gonna happen, and then I'll have to ride herd on you, and I hate that.”
“You love it.”
She snorted, but she didn't argue.
“And where's Gaten?” she asked, glancing back at the entrance to Twin Estates building one. Gaten Shepherd lived on the third floor, and he was supposed to be there with them, waiting to meet his new “roommate”.
“He's right here.”
Tori let out a shout and almost fell off the curb, but Landon grabbed her arm and yanked her back, causing her to stumble into his chest. Gaten had appeared out of nowhere, almost right behind her, and was
now chuckling to himself.
“Jesus, you gave me a heart attack,” she gasped, pressing her hand to her chest.
“Good thing there's a heart doctor here,” Landon said, letting her go so he could lift a cigarette to his mouth. She smirked and slapped it to the ground.
“You already had five today, you hit your limit. You're supposed to be quitting, remember?”
“But I have to go back to the E.R. in a couple hours. Deny me nicotine while I'm on the job, and I may kill someone. On purpose,” he threatened.
“Better up your malpractice insurance, then.”
“You know, I don't care for all this attitude. Keep it up, and I'll -”
“As fun as it always is listening to you two flirt,” Gaten interrupted, and they both looked over to see a cab parking in front of them. “I think he's here.”
“Seriously, Landon,” Tori spoke under her breath. “This freaks me out. I haven't spoken to him or seen him since -”
“Chill,” Landon breathed in her ear as he settled his hands on top of her shoulders. “It'll be okay. You don't have to speak to him or see him after this. I won't, if you don't want me to. But we agreed to help, so that's it. We're doing this.”
“When did you turn into such a good guy?” she sighed, leaning back into him as their friend got out of the cab.
“Right about when you saved my life. Now suck it up and act like you're happy to see him.”
“Hi,” Gaten said to his new roommate while they watched. “We talked on the phone. Hope you found the place okay. I spoke to your parole officer, he's going to be here in a little while. So will social services.”
“Hi,” Tori jumped in as well, plastering a huge fake smile on her face and holding out her hand. “Long time, no see. Welcome to San Francisco, you're gonna have fun here.”
“Sugar,” that low voice rumbled, triggering painful memories for her. “Fun is one thing I don't think I'll be experiencing very much while I'm here.”
“At least you're not in prison, right?” Landon pointed out, leaning around Tori to shake their guest's hand.
“No thanks to you. You two still together? I'm shocked. Not that it matters now, though.”
“Why doesn't it matter?” Gaten asked. Landon barked out a laugh and Tori let out a groan.
“Because,” Velez said, his grin huge. “Didn't they tell you? I own Tori. Now then, let's go to your apartment, Mr. Shepherd, so I can get acquainted with my new jail cell, see if there's some shelf room for her.”
“House arrest is hardly jail, Velez,” Landon pointed out.
“House arrest is hardly freedom, Edenhoff,” he retaliated.
“This is such a bad idea,” Tori sighed.
“Probably,” Velez agreed, then he bent over to pick up his suitcase. “But don't all the best stories start off that way?”
Muscle Memory Excerpt
Available Now
Jon's pulse was pounding in his ears. The pictures he was looking at weren't bringing anything back, not in any literal sense. His amnesia was total, he didn't know where the shot had been taken, couldn't remember that location, and had no idea why they'd been there.
But something was happening.
He slowly stood up and started walking across the suite. Delaney had left the bathroom door open and he could hear the faucet running. When he got to the doorway, he looked down at her.
She had her hands on the vanity top and was bent over the sink. Hot water was flowing out of the faucet, causing the mirror to fog up at the bottom and steam to rise. It was curling around her bowed head. She was taking deep, steadying breath, and though he couldn't see her face, he knew her eyes were closed. She didn't seem to realize he was there.
He let his eyes wander over her, committing everything to memory. Again. She was familiar to him in a strange, indefinable way. Her hair was up in a messy bun. Despite the fact it was cold outside, she was wearing a loose brown tank top over a black sports bra, black skinny jeans, and she'd taken off a pair of black ankle boots while they'd been going through the pictures. As she stood in front of him barefoot, he was surprised at how small she really was – she could practically fit inside him.
That wasn't the most surprising thing about her, though. When she'd first arrived at the hotel room, she'd been wearing some sort of sports jacket, with the zipper pulled all the way up to her chin. She'd taken it off in the bathroom, he could see it on the floor at her feet. The tank top exposed a lot of her smooth, pale skin, and his eyes zeroed in on a tattoo on her back, sitting right at the base of her neck.
He didn't question what he was doing, didn't stop to think if it was appropriate or not. Didn't think about anything. He stepped forward so he was right behind her and he laid his palm against her back, right next to the black ink. Delaney didn't move, didn't even flinch. She must have known he was standing there the whole time.
“You lied,” he breathed, reading the scrawling script.
“I know,” she whispered back.
In Love We Trust
Delaney's tattoo was in English and Jon's was in Latin, but they were the same words. The same font, even. He stepped closer to her, staring down at the tattoo like it could give him all the answers.
Tell me who this girl is. Remind me.
“Why?” he asked, and she let out a chuckle, then lifted her head enough to look at their reflection.
“I'm trying really hard here, Jay -, I mean, Jon,” she said. “But it's not easy for me. Some things are sacred, you know? And that you don't remember ... it makes it seem not as special. Some things I guess I want to keep sacred.”
He was silent for a long time, still looking at the ink on her skin. She was wrong – it was sacred. Maybe even more so now. It was like an icon. A relic. One of the only things tying him to a way of life he didn't remember.
She abruptly let out a shuddering breath and her head fell back. She wasn't looking at him, just the ceiling, and she was rapidly blinking her eyes. Her gorgeous blue eyes were shiny and bright with unshed tears, and it made him sad. That he was the one making her cry, it caused his soul to ache. He didn't know how or why, but he wanted to comfort her. Wanted to take all her pains and fears away.
He turned his gaze to their reflection and his body once again went on autopilot. The hand he had on her back slid over her shoulder slowly, and then went across her chest. While he watched in the mirror, her eyelids fluttered shut. His hand kept moving over her skin, sliding under her tank top and bra strap, then hooking around her side, his fingers under her arm.
She sighed softly and almost imperceptibly started to lean towards him. When her back came into contact with his chest, he looked down at her. His arm was stretched lengthwise across her chest, bracing her against him. He let out a shaky breath and tilted his head down, moving closer to her ear.
“You can call me Jay,” he whispered.
He didn't know what he was doing, didn't know what was going on. His mind didn't remember her at all, but his body seemed to know every inch of her. All he knew was her skin felt like home and that when she breathed, he was the one taking in oxygen.
The Bad Ones Excerpt
Available Now
“Constantine!?”
Dulcie groaned. Frannie. Since Con had come back, she hadn't seen the other woman. She'd begun to think maybe it was a sign, that her luck was changing. Con was her dark little rainbow, spreading peace over her world. But no. Apparently not.
“Hi, Frannie,” he said politely, his politician's-smile making an appearance. No hint of the big bad wolf in that grin.
“It's been so long! How are you? Move, Dulcie, jesus, I'm trying to talk to my old friend,” Frannie demanded, shoving her out of the way. The ice cream fell out of her hand and smacked into the floor.
“It's been a while,” Con agreed, ignoring the incident between the girls. “How've you been? You look great.”
Dulcie stared at their interaction, dumbfounded.
“Oh, stop. I don't. Do I? Well,
not as good as you. You look incredible,” Frannie gushed. His smile got bigger and Dulcie watched as Frannie fell a little more in love with him.
“Thanks.”
“Enough about me. What are you doing here? And god, is Dulcie bothering you? Townies, I swear. C'mon, there's a great coffee shop next door, it just opened. Let me get you a cup,” Frannie offered, then linked her arm though his and began dragging him away.
“A coffee shop? Wow, Fuller's almost like a real town,” he laughed, and she cackled right along with him as they walked out the door together. He didn't look back, not even once.
What. The fuck.
Dulcie stomped the whole way home. She bypassed her elevator and took the stairs, wanting to burn off some energy. When she got into her apartment, she slammed the door shut behind her and locked it. The knob and the bolt, even put on the chain. Something she rarely ever did; she pitied anyone who would be stupid enough to try and rob her. But that afternoon, she wasn't in the mood for anyone to come inside.
She felt like she was going to explode, she had to do something with all the tension that was threatening to blow her apart, so she tore around the apartment. The bed was a mess, blankets scattered everywhere – they'd stayed the night at her place, but hadn't slept much. So she changed the sheets and made the bed, then tidied up other parts of the room. There was a wash basin set up on a counter top, so she cleaned the meager amount of dishes she had and left them out to dry. She was rinsing off a chef's knife when she heard what she'd been waiting for – scratching, on the other side of her door.
“Fuck off, I'm not in the mood for you right now!” she yelled. Deep laughter rolled straight through the wood and brick, almost filling her apartment.
“That's a lie, and you know it.”
She frowned and turned so her back was against the wall between the counter top and the door.
“I don't want you to come in.”
“I wasn't asking. Open the door, or I'll open it myself.”
Neighborhood Watch Page 25
