Naughty Neighbors

by Destiny Blaine

  Seven

  Zak seemingly hung on her every word while she explained the intricate details of her relationship with Kemper. When she finished, she said, “Well there you have it. My life in ruins.”

  “Your life is hardly ruined at twenty-two, honey,” Zak said, setting his bottle on the table. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t tell too many people about how you and Kemper shared Carly.”

  “You have that backwards.”

  “My point exactly. No one will buy the fact that you and Carly didn’t work out this arrangement without ulterior motives.”

  She blinked. “You mean like I wanted Carly as much as I wanted Kemper?”

  “Did you?”

  “God no.” She laughed aloud. “I mean, to each his or her own, but the two of us together?” She shook her head. “Ain’t happening in this lifetime. I grew up with her. We’re like sisters. I’ve known her since I was like five.”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Not in my world,” she assured him, trying to ignore the feelings of betrayal. How could Carly deceive her like this? How could Kemper call her after the game, assure her that he missed her, then make off like a bandit and steal away with her best friend and any dignity Kara hoped to have in the future?

  “Want me to go get that package for you before I leave?”

  “Leave? I was ready to suggest a drinking game.”

  “Young lady, you are definitely a woman after a man’s heart.”

  “Don’t do that.” Kara said, her chest tightening in knots.

  Nearly diabolical in his moves, he reached out and locked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What don’t you want me to do, Kara?”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “For starters, I don’t want you to go.” Dragging her fingers across her brow she closed her eyes and steadied her runaway thoughts.

  What was going through her foggy mind at that very moment? Why was she practically begging him to stay? She had all but turned him away at the door a few hours before, but now she had this strong suspicion she’d end up lying in his arms before the night was over.

  “Kara.” His voice yanked her from a full-fledged in-the-moment analysis.

  Her eyes popped open and she gazed at the beautiful man staring back at her. Oh God. She was a wreck.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Actually, I do,” he said, chuckling. “I might go for a three-mile run instead of the usual two.”

  “What do you do for a living, Zak?”

  “This and that,” he replied, obviously very guarded.

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I probably won’t,” he assured her.

  “Is it illegal?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Scandalous?” she asked, resting her hand in the curve of her waist and cocking her head to the side.

  “Shameful, in fact.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “James Bond pales in comparison.”

  She snickered. “You’re so bad.”

  “Honey, if you only knew the truth.” He thumbed the hallway behind them. “Let me grab that package.”

  He disappeared and she adjusted the already low—but not low enough—neckline of her top. Pushing up her boobs with her forearms, she tried to fight her growing need for revenge, but the effort proved pointless.

  Zak was witty and fun to be around. He was older and more mature. He made her laugh and that was saying a lot considering her best friend and boyfriend were probably under the impression she would drown her sorrows all alone.

  “He’s exactly what I need on a night like tonight.”

  “Who is?” Zak asked, reentering the room cautiously. He acted as if he had interrupted a conversation he wasn’t supposed to hear.

  In fact, he wasn’t supposed to hear.

  She grabbed a small rectangular pillow and slapped it against her face. “See what happens when I’m left alone? I resort to talking to myself!”

  Zak set the box at her feet. “Want me to wait and see if there are explosives inside?”

  “Very funny. Ha. Ha.”

  He winked. “I’ll take that as my hint to go, then.”

  Before he escaped—and that’s how she would’ve viewed his exit if he in fact had walked away right then—she grabbed his forearm. “Would you wait until I see what’s inside?”

  “Can I twist your arm for another beer?” His hooded gaze swept across her chest again.

  Zak was definitely a breast man. He hadn’t stopped ogling her since he’d discovered she was a jilted woman.

  “Keep looking at me like that and we may end up swapping favors before the night is over.”

  ~ * ~

  Swapping favors was exactly what Zak fantasized about more often than not. Neighbors for nearly two years, he and Kara had enjoyed friendly banter here or there, but nothing like this.

  After Kara handed over another ice-cold beer, she excused herself and went upstairs to put on something a little more comfortable. Zak’s mind went on a quick vacation. Touring the limitless possibilities of a rendezvous in various locales, his gaze swept by each and every destination—the kitchen counter, the rectangular kitchen table near said counter, the sofa, an oversized ottoman, and finally the floor.

  His cock throbbed as he considered how he might take her, how he’d splay and secure her arms or spread and shackle her legs. He ran his palm down the length of his face and cursed under his breath. Considering what she’d said about the lifestyle, it was probably safe to assume he could shelf the fictitious props. “I’ve lost my ever loving mind.”

  “Well that makes two of us,” she said, bouncing—and there was really no other way to define her entry—back into the room. Those boobs were moving just enough to hold his attention.

  Wearing white shorts that cradled her bottom and a snug gray sweatshirt with faded blue lettering, Kara knelt next to the box with a pair of scissors in hand. Before she sliced the tape down the middle, she glanced up at him. Right then and there, he could’ve spewed all sorts of profanity. The red tint to her brown hair shimmered like gold. A gentle curl cupped her small chin and those eyes were daunting, daring him to make his move.

  He was captivated, yet smart enough to know better than to play his hand. She had, after all, teased him about his age.

  As she coddled him with her eyes—teased him really—he made a gutsy move and deliberately lowered his gaze, held it at her nipples. He took specific note of those fine diamond-shaped points pressing against her sweatshirt.

  “Hello.” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Do I still have your attention?”

  “Do you want it?” He asked the question before he thought of the consequences of a reply.

  She immediately blushed.

  “Don’t answer that,” he quickly told her in an effort to give her an out. “And if you think this gift will be something personal, I can turn my head the other way.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on now. Please. I’ve just told you my adult life story.”

  Kara opened the box and peered inside. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned bright red. Given her expression, Zak believed there was a whole lot of story left to tell and a few blank pages they could fill.

  Eight

  Back in Los Angeles, Kemper and Carly boarded Kemper’s private jet at around nine-thirty pacific time. After multiple attempts to reach Kara failed, Kemper was frantic and Carly was at her wit’s end.

  Thanks to the mounting stress and the paparazzi following them from their hotel to the airport, they’d been snappy with one another. By all accounts, they were approaching a real knock-down-drag-out, spare no punches kind of argument.

  “This is your fault,” Carly bit out, yanking at her seatbelt and growing more and more frustrated as she fought to free the strap caught between the seat and leather back sofa. “And why in the
bloody hell do we have to use these damn things during takeoff when we both know they’ll come off as soon as we’re in the air?”

  “Let me help you,” Kemper said gently.

  Smacking his hands away, she shook her head and defied those tears already pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t need your help right now, Kemper. Kara knows. I feel it in my gut. She knows or she would’ve responded to your texts. If not yours, she would’ve at least sent me one of her notorious “Fuck off” messages.”

  “I thought of that, too.”

  “Praise be, the man actually has a brain and it functions under pressure after all.”

  “That was an ugly thing to say, Carly,” Kemper said, grabbing a sports magazine from the nearby bookcase.

  “I just can’t stand this. What if she does something crazy?”

  “She won’t.” Kemper raised then lowered his periodical. “What do you want me to do? You tried to call friends. No one answered. I don’t have anyone I can call in Cincinnati and if I did, I’d be rather embarrassed to use professional contacts. I can hear that conversation now. ‘Would you mind going to check on my girlfriend and reassuring her that I didn’t marry my other girlfriend? Oh and while you’re at it, please tell her we’re on our way now so she can rest easy.’ How would that look, Carly?”

  “Will you ever stop worrying about appearances?” she asked, finally snapping her seatbelt in place. “I mean, this could’ve been avoided. All you had to do was admit to the press that you were involved with both of us. Then they would’ve backed off.”

  “It’s none of their business.” Kemper lifted the magazine in front of his face again.

  “No?” Carly slapped her hand across his and removed his reading material and her distraction. “When you make millions per year working in the public eye, you sort of sign on for this kind of thing.”

  “Says who?” Kemper’s gaze darkened. “You? The other women out there who want a little notoriety for sleeping with an athlete?” He snarled. “Do you really think it’s all that great living in front of a snapping camera? It’s not, baby. I swear, it isn’t.

  “I can’t go to bed at night without setting the alarm and making sure the front gates are secure. If I do, some quack might take it upon himself to let himself in, wander around my estate, and hell, I don’t know, maybe even go skinny dipping in my damn pool!”

  That very occurrence happened right after Kemper purchased his ten million dollar compound outside of Houston.

  “Do you think I like working out in front of the camera? Or pushing my way through a throng of photographers when my life has just become front page news? No, baby. When I signed on for this career, I didn’t agree to let anyone and everyone enter my life at will. I wanted to play football. That’s all!”

  Carly crossed her arms. “Are you done?”

  “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  The loud ding resounded and the pilot said, “Mr. Kapertone, we’re all clear for takeoff. Let us know if you need anything.”

  He pushed the royal blue button overhead. “We’re all set back here, Stan.”

  When the bell resounded again, Kemper relaxed his neck against the headrest. He caressed her arm before taking her hand in his. “I don’t want to argue with you, gorgeous.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t want to fight with you either.”

  “We’re fighting?”

  She shrugged. “Felt like it to me.”

  “Good,” he said, leaning over the armrest and brushing her lips with a quick kiss. “Once we’re up in the air, what you say we make up?”

  “What kind of apology did you have in mind?”

  He winked. “I’ll surprise you.”

  An unexplainable mountain of guilt washed over her. Even though she and Kemper hadn’t deliberately tried to hurt Kara, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their actions in public caused all of the commotion.

  As if reading her thoughts, Kemper said, “We can’t do anything to help ease Kara’s mind now. We’ll be on the ground in Cincinnati in a few hours. Once we land, we’ll go straight to her condo. Then, we’ll convince her that neither one of us would ever do anything to hurt her.”

  “And then what?” Carly wrung her hands. “I mean, how long has it been since the three of us have been in the same city—let alone the same dwelling—at the same time?”

  Kemper looked stumped. “I don’t know. A couple of years maybe? What’s your point? Is there a problem?”

  Carly eyed the broad wing of the plane, opening up with the wind’s force as they charged down the runway. “I don’t think it will be as easy as it once was.”

  “Why would you say that?” Concern marked Kemper’s furrowed brows. “You and Kara see one another often. You talk daily on the phone. The two of you together could give a guy a complex.”

  “Yes, but I love you,” she blurted out.

  “I would hope so.” His frown diminished. “I’d hate to think you were just using me for sex.”

  She laughed. “Why is it that all rich men think women are after them for the mind-blowing sex?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “The sex is only a small perk. I’m after your money and fame,” she teased, shooting him a wink and trying to lighten the mood she’d soured. “And don’t you forget it.”

  Stretching his legs out, he clasped his fingers and tucked his hands behind his head. “It’s not something I can easily dismiss when I receive all the credit card statements at the first of the month.”

  “You are so tight you squeak,” she complained.

  “Take a nap. Once we’re out of this turbulence, I’ll show you what’s tight.”

  “Hmm,” she purred. “Now I know why I love you.”

  He opened one eye. “Why’s that?”

  “You talk dirty to me better than any man I know.”

  “I better be the only man giving you naughty ideas.”

  “You are,” she whispered, dismissing her silly apprehension about the three of them being together again. She and Kara were on the same page. The relationship they’d each formed with Kemper worked well for their lifestyles. Sighing then, she softly added, “You’re the only one for me, Kemper.”

  He gave her a funny little look, one she translated without difficulty. He sure couldn’t say the same, but she didn’t resent him because of the fact.

  How could she hold their modernized relationship against him when she had fully understood the terms of their intimate association by signing on to share him with her best friend? She couldn’t, especially since Kara loved him first.

  Nine

  “Apparently, I was wrong,” Kara said, rummaging through the box of adult toys and BDSM gear. “I guess I haven’t been humiliated enough for one night.”

  She pulled out a slender box housing a butt plug described as a smooth granite stone, a dildo with an impressive thick head, and a pair of handcuffs. “Apparently, I needed an audience, a good round of applause, maybe even a standing ovation...” Her voice trailed as she continued unpacking the goodies. “And oh yes, let’s not forget the grand finale.” She tossed aside a flogger, a paddle, and a spreader bar before dumping out the bubble wrap in the center of her living room.

  A double-thump resounded. Zak turned his full attention to the boxed kit of intimate accessories and case of vibrators. Kara plucked the larger container from the floor and held it in front of her body, studying the selection with wide eyes. She took a moment and read the fine print. The rapid movement of lips sort of gave her away.

  Meeting his gaze, she burst out laughing and he joined in right away, glad to release the muffled chuckles he had tried to play off as a strangled cough. When the laughter subsided, he halfway expected her to cry. Instead, she looked at him as if she were expecting him to explain away these things, or perhaps suggest he teach her how to play with a sadist’s toys.

  And without a doubt, Kemper Kapertone was a sadist.

  What kind of man stole away with a girl’s best fr
iend, made her believe he needed two women while suggesting she remain loyal only to him, then married the best friend without so much as a Dear Jane letter or virtual e-kiss goodbye?

  Then again, maybe this gift was his final kiss. If so, Zak had to give the guy credit. He reached an all-time low by sending a parting gift full of a submissive woman’s treasures, yet he wasn’t planning to stick around and provide the necessary instructions.

  It occurred to Zak then. Perhaps Kapertone planned to keep Kara on the side. Maybe he thought he could have his beer and drink it, too.

  Zak moistened his lips at the thought. Hadn’t he planned the same? Hadn’t he drank the woman’s booze, spent a little time with her, and now felt he should be the one to help her mend a broken heart?

  “That was one hell of an encore,” Zak said, eyeing the flogger. He was itching to ask her if she’d ever experimented with light bondage or Domination and submission. They’d briefly discussed the collar episode and he’d formed his own opinions. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she had tried to portray.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Trust me when I tell you, Kara. You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Zak said, aware of his dominant beast surfacing. That unsettling need gnawed at his gut, challenging him with a stroke of temptation at the most inopportune moment.

  Timing was everything. Making his move on a young woman who was twenty-seven years his junior and going through an emotional tailspin after an unexpected separation from her boyfriend and her best friend made him feel like he was taking advantage of a situation. Then again, he was a man. Wouldn’t most men in his predicament grab opportunity by the horns?

  Squatting next to the coffee table, she scooped up a few items, all of which were neatly boxed in their appropriate containers, with the exception of the handcuffs. She tucked a long, slender object under her arm and gathered a few more items before shooting him a saucy smile. “Would you mind?”