The Boy Next Door: A Standalone Small Town Romance (Soulmates Series Book 3)

by Hazel Kelly

  I turned around at the bottom of Helly’s driveway. “I don’t owe you shit, Laney.”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  “And you know it.”

  She swallowed.

  “But I could never hate you, okay? Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  Her eyes bounced back and forth between mine.

  “I loved you for too long.” I set my hand on top of the low picket fence.

  Her eyes started to water.

  “And I can’t forget,” I said. “Even if I could I wouldn’t want to-”

  She stepped forward and kissed me then, pressing her soft lips to mine.

  At first they felt foreign, but as soon as she parted them, my muscle memory and my emotional memory came to life.

  And I kissed her back. How could I not? I did it as much out of the attraction I’d felt to her all night as I did out of curiosity.

  And as I pulled her lower back towards me, all the bullshit melted away, all the stress, all the energy I’d put into fighting the fact that I still cared for her.

  When she finally stepped back, I didn’t know what to say.

  Kissing her was even better than I remembered.

  She didn’t say another word, either. She just pursed her lips, walked around me, and headed up the driveway to Helly’s house.

  When she opened the front door, she looked back over her shoulder at me and then away again mid blush.

  How she had the wherewithal to walk away was a mystery.

  I took a few steps backwards and then headed up my own driveway, my lips still buzzing from the energy of her kiss.

  My mind raced with questions about what came over her. Should I read into it? Did it mean something? Or did she just do it to shut me up or thank me or because she was unusually vulnerable right now with everything she was going through?

  I didn’t know. I couldn’t know.

  Because I’d fucked up.

  I shouldn’t have let her walk away. Not like that. Hell, I shouldn’t have even let her come up for air.

  After all, talking was doing nothing but getting us into trouble. But it hadn’t crossed my mind that we could just skip that step. Just not talk. Just feel.

  And why not? She’d said it herself- we were both adults.

  So what if we wanted to pretend things were different for a few minutes. Was that really so bad? We weren’t hurting anyone but ourselves.

  As I unlocked the door and greeted Sarge, I couldn’t help but think about the Choose Your Own Adventure Books, and how I wished I’d turned the pages differently just now.

  Because even though it wasn’t worth regretting the past, it was still the quality of my present days that mattered most.

  And if the whole world ended tomorrow, I’d have to die knowing that I let her walk away.

  Again.

  Chapter 21: Laney

  When I got home, Helly was asleep on the couch with an open book about gems on her chest. Meanwhile, an infomercial was making an aggressive offer on a steam mop in the background.

  I wriggled the book from her arms, turned off the TV, and covered her with a blanket.

  I knew better than to wake her up.

  She took her dreams very seriously, and if you woke her while she was having one, she’d sulk the whole next day like you’d shredded her plane ticket to a far off land.

  Which I could understand.

  I’d been having crazy dreams lately myself, and while most of them were dreams I often wanted to wake up from- dreams about my mother or dreams where I’d wake up in a bed next to Henry’s teeth in a glass- I, too, hated to be woken up during a good dream.

  But I wasn’t worried about dreaming that night.

  Not only would I have been lucky to get any sleep at all, but if I went to sleep, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the reeling wonder I felt in my whole body as a result of kissing Connor again.

  But while it was magical to feel so overwhelmingly home again in all the best ways, I shouldn’t have done it.

  I mean, what the hell was I thinking?

  Of course, I knew the answer to that question- I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking at all.

  I just- I don’t know… When he said he didn’t hate me, that he couldn’t forget about loving me, and that he didn’t even want to, I just had to kiss him.

  It’s not that I didn’t believe his words, but I wanted to feel them.

  And I wanted to answer them.

  And I knew if I tried to speak I’d just make a big mess of one of the most generous, kind moments I’d enjoyed in quite some time.

  But I had to apologize.

  It was too late to say I was sorry for breaking his heart, for ending things the way I did, and for not having the decency back then to try and explain.

  But I could at least apologize for crossing the line at the end of the driveway. After all, he didn’t deserve for me to show up and turn his life on its head when he’d done such a good job moving on.

  So as I lied awake in bed that night, I apologized over and over, trying to get it right, trying to sound sincere.

  Which was desperately difficult because deep down, I wasn’t genuinely sorry.

  I was happy I kissed him. Elated even. Intoxicated.

  But that didn’t make it okay.

  And I didn’t want him to think I was crazy.

  Everyone else could. That was fine. But not him.

  ***

  I remembered the kiss before I even opened my eyes.

  It was the last thing I thought about the night before and the first thing that popped into my head that morning.

  And I knew the longer I put off apologizing the worse it was going to be.

  I sat up and stretched my arms over my head, my eyes adjusting to the light as they located the Minnie Mouse clock on my bookshelf.

  It was nine o’clock.

  I didn’t hear anyone else up in the house, which was odd as Helly usually sang to herself in the mornings, especially on the weekend after some good dreams.

  But when I went to the window, I saw her in the backyard, rolling tires around in an effort to create a new plot of flower beds. She’d mentioned earlier that week that she was keen to create a rainbow effect against the left wall and insisted it would look better than it sounded.

  I knew I should go out and greet her, but I was in a hurry to put my immature behavior behind me so I brushed my teeth, made sure I didn’t have a nest of hair bunched anywhere on my head, and washed my face.

  I couldn’t stop myself from putting on a smidge of blush, but I dismissed the rest. Putting a full face of makeup on for my apology seemed to cheapen it somehow.

  Then I snuck out the front door and tried to control my breathing as I headed up the path to his house.

  I rang the bell and listened to the tweeting birds while I waited.

  “Laney,” he said when he saw me. He was in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, but it didn’t look like I’d woken him up.

  “Can I talk to you?”

  He stepped back so I could come in.

  I stayed by the front door while he closed it. He smelled like a sleeping man, and being so close to his pheromones gave me goosebumps.

  “What’s up?” he asked, his dark eyes searching mine.

  “I came to apologize.”

  He furrowed his brow.

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you last night. I don’t know what got into m-”

  He grabbed my face and kissed me, inhaling the bullshit excuses that had been on the tip of my tongue.

  My back bowed as he pulled me to him and ran his fingers through my hair, clenching a clump of my bedhead in his fist.

  In that moment I wished he would kiss me forever and that I would never have to make sense of my feelings.

  He pulled my shirt off over my head and his lips found mine again like a magnet while he unhooked my t-shirt bra with one hand.

  I felt him swell against me and my breath hitched in my throat.

  “Damnit, Laney,” he sai
d, almost growling as he walked forwards and lowered me down against the staircase. He dropped his head to my neck and his stubble tickled me, causing a hot shiver to vibrate up my spine.

  I grabbed the sleeves of his shirt as he dropped his hands to my chest, followed by his mouth.

  When he pulled my leggings down, I felt the carpeted stairs on my ass and slid my fingers into his thick hair, letting my head fall back onto the step behind it.

  He pushed my legs apart and licked my slit, causing my whole body to gush towards him.

  My ankles were still stuck in my leggings, but he lifted them over his head so they hung down his back and brought his face between my thighs again.

  I reached for the banister with one hand and gripped the stairs with the other as he licked me, scooping me out with an intensity I never could have prepared myself for.

  I moaned and bucked against his face.

  He put his hands around my waist, lapping at me harder all the time.

  “Oh god, Connor,” I whispered. “That feels too good.”

  He stuck his fingers inside me and stretched me open.

  I cried out and arched my back.

  He crawled forwards so his face was over mine and my tied ankles stayed wrapped around him.

  I panted through parted lips.

  He didn’t say anything. He just watched my eyes while he finger fucked me.

  “You’re going to make me come,” I said, staring at his mouth through half closed eyes.

  He forced his fingers deeper and kissed me, churning my insides and my tongue at the same time until I felt completely vulnerable and totally out of control.

  Then he lifted me and carried me up the stairs to the landing.

  When he laid me back down, he raised up onto his knees, forcing my leggings to spring from one of my ankles so I was no longer bound.

  He was breathing hard as he pulled his shirt off, and the sight of his abs made me wilt inside.

  It was as if they’d multiplied since the last time I saw them, and now the chiseled cuts in his stomach where too many to count.

  Then he pulled his pants down, his eyes on me as his dick sprang from his pajama pants.

  He stroked it over me and looked me up and down, his eyes falling from my lips to my tits.

  “Connor, I-”

  “Shut up,” he said, his face serious. “I’m sick of your shit.” He held himself over me, his hands planted on both sides of my head. “It’s my fucking turn to make a point,” he said, reaching down and guiding the tip of his dick inside me.

  I furrowed my brow as he pushed his way in.

  Then he dropped to his elbows, sucked the delicate skin of my neck, and buried himself inside me.

  Chapter 22: Connor

  “You’re so big,” she breathed.

  The sound of her voice made my mouth water. Of course, I’d always been big. She just had no point of comparison back then so she probably took me for granted.

  But like I said, I was sick of her shit. I was sick of her making excuses and acting like she didn’t deserve to feel good, to feel loved, to be the center of attention.

  And I’d lied awake all night regretting the fact that I’d let her walk away.

  I sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to her apologize, especially when I knew she wasn’t sorry.

  The face she made last night before she went inside wasn’t the face of a regretful person. It was the face of someone who was leaving against their will.

  And if she didn’t know her own mind well enough to know that it was a good thing she kissed me, than I obviously hadn’t kissed her hard enough.

  She dragged a hand down my chest, and I raised my face to look at her.

  “You feel so good,” she said, her crystal eyes bouncing back and forth between mine.

  I clenched my jaw and drove into her, relishing how tight and wet she was as I savored her sweetness on my lips.

  She tasted better than I remembered, better than any pussy I’d eaten in years.

  I leaned up and lifted her hips into my lap so she could watch me fuck her, my swollen dick straining as I slid in and out of her.

  Then I moved a hand to work her clit.

  I wanted to make her come so hard she’d cry. Lord knows it wouldn’t be the first time.

  She reached her hands over her head, hiding her furrowed brows in one of her elbows.

  “How’s that?” I asked, her clit swelling for me. “Are you sorry about this, too? Are you sorry about how hard you’re going to come on my dick?”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, dropping her legs to my sides and sliding my hands under her back.

  She moved like a rag doll as I rolled back at the top of the steps until she was straddling me.

  “Now apologize with your pussy,” I said, smacking her ass.

  She fell forward so her face was just inches from mine.

  I grabbed her ass in my hands and rocked her up and down my dick, crushing her clit against the base of my shaft between every thrust

  She reached out to steady herself, placing her hands on both sides of my face so her tits swung over me.

  I grabbed her face with one hand. “Come for me, Laney. Coat my dick like you used to.”

  She kept her eyes on me and licked her plump lips.

  “That’s it,” I said, watching her face as I felt her pussy start to shudder. “Give it to me.”

  She started grinding against me like my body remembered, her weight all the way down on my cock.

  “I’m coming,” she said, letting out a moan that was music to my ears.

  When she began to spasm, I rolled us onto our sides, fucking her clenching pussy with all the energy my hips could muster.

  She kept her eyes on me as she jerked in my arms, spilling over my dick as I burst inside her.

  “Fuck,” she breathed, blinking her heavy eyelids at me.

  “Fuck is right,” I said, trying to catch my breath as her pulsing pussy milked my dick.

  “You were incredible,” she said.

  “I always thought you brought that out in me,” I said, pulling out of her and rolling onto my back.

  “Was it something I said?” she asked.

  I rolled my head towards her.

  “In case I want to say it again.”

  One side of my mouth curled up, and I let my eyes trace the curves of her breasts and hips as she lay on her side.

  “I don’t really know what to make of what we just-”

  “Just shut up,” I said, suddenly conscious of a carpet burn sensation in my knees.

  “You can’t really get away with that afterwards, ya know?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Not everything needs to be analyzed, Laney.”

  “You think talking about this will ruin it?”

  “I think talking about this will be a huge waste of your breath because there’s no blood in my brain right now.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Though I do want to know what the hell you think you’re doing showing up like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “With bedroom eyes in a come fuck me t-shirt.”

  She laughed. “I was deliberately trying to look like shit, actually.”

  “What?”

  “So my apology would seem more sincere.”

  I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Start with why you’re fucking laughing at me.”

  I sighed. “First of all, you did a shitty job looking like crap.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “And second of all, that was the least sincere, most bullshit apology I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

  “Well you didn’t exactly let me finish.”

  “I didn’t have to,” I said. “It was bullshit through and through.”

  “It wasn’t bullsh-”

  “Look, Laney. You don’t h
ave to be honest with me about everything,” I said. “I get that that was a privilege I enjoyed when we were together back in the day. But the least you could do is not go out of your way to lie to me.”

  She swallowed.

  “Which is exactly what you just tried to do.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “Before you so gallantly stopped me from making an ass of myself?”

  “Extreme circumstances call for extreme measures.”

  Her cheeks were still bright pink. “Those were some pretty extreme measures all right.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She laughed. “How selfless of you.”

  “What can I say?” I leaned up to rest on my elbows. “I’m a selfless guy like that.”

  “You always were.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “God knows that’s not the first time I’ve had to fuck you to shut you up.”

  “How can you tell if I’m genuinely annoying or just being annoying because I want sex?”

  “It’s not in my interest to know the difference.”

  “Mmm.” She sat up and looked around. “So now what?”

  I reached for my pants. “I suppose I should give you the rest of the tour since you haven’t seen the upstairs yet.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, rising to her feet. “And in case I forget to mention it, I absolutely love what you’ve done with the landing.”

  Flashback: Connor

  Laney pulled some bread from the end of her sandwich and threw it down by Waddles where she was poking around the water’s edge.

  I crumpled the wrapper from my own sub and stuffed it in the outside pocket of my backpack.

  “Do you think Waddles speaks duck?” she asked, her eyes on the speckled brown bird.

  “Hard to say,” I said, leaning back on the blanket and wriggling my back to get comfortable on the pebbly ground beside the lake.

  “I like to think she does,” Laney said. “I like to think the wild ducks are always inviting her to come hang out and she’s like, ‘naw, maybe later.’”

  “And what if she means it?”

  “You mean what if she takes off with a bunch of ducks someday?” she asked. “Or if she finds a handsome mallard who she thinks she’d be happier with?”