Bad Boy Next Door

by Leigh, Mara

  “Lucky?” I asked, then his cock stroked my G-spot just right and I gasped.

  “Lucky to have you move in next door.”

  “I’m the one who’s lucky,” I said before thinking. But the thing was, I meant it.

  I didn’t want to mean it. I didn’t want to expose myself like that, not to Nick, not to anyone, especially not to a liar, but at that moment, I forgot. With his dick deep inside me, our sex act seemed the perfect manifestation of Nick—powerful yet tender, hard yet gentle—and I forgot why I’d been so hell-bent on avoiding a relationship, not letting Nick in.

  And even if I hadn’t forgotten, it was too late. In more ways than one, Nick was already buried so hard inside me.

  Nineteen

  Nick

  “Breakfast?” Jade asked on our way up the final flight of stairs at Shady Oaks.

  “I’m cooking you breakfast today.” I lifted her up the final two stairs, setting her on the landing in front of me.

  “You can cook?” With a two-stair advantage, she was a few inches taller than me, and her hands fell onto my shoulders.

  I squeezed her hips. “I’ve got skills.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She leaned forward and kissed me.

  I lifted her as I rose up the last two stairs and crossed the hall to hold her against the concrete wall there, lost in her lips. My body wanted to grind against her, hard, to rip down her jeans, to fuck her right here in the open-air hallway, but I let my brain override my body, barely letting our clothes touch.

  Not making it easy, Jade arched her back, brushing her sweet body against mine.

  My stomach growled.

  Laughing, she broke our kiss. “Was that what I think it was?”

  “Sorry. Guess I’m hungry in more ways than one.”

  “In that case, maybe it should be me who cooks.”

  I set her back on her feet. “I’m going to take that as a dare.” Wrapping my arm around her neck to pull her in close, I steered us down the hall.

  “Okay.” She stroked my chest. “In that case, I double-dog dare you to cook for me.”

  We entered my apartment.

  “Wow. You’ve kept it clean.” She glanced around like she was witnessing a miracle. “It’s been what—two weeks since I cleaned for you? I’m impressed.”

  “Like I said. I’ve got skills.” It had been eleven days since she’d been in my apartment. The longest days of my life.

  “Beer?” I opened the fridge.

  “Sure.”

  I handed her one, opened one for myself, then headed for the groceries I’d left on the counter.

  “Pancakes?” she asked, clearly spotting the mix I’d bought. “For a rookie, that’s a high degree of difficulty.”

  “Sit.” Without turning, I pointed toward the sofa.

  “At least let me help.”

  I turned, shooting her a mischievous look. “Does that mean I’ve finished my term as your sex slave?”

  She laughed. “I didn’t realize cooking was in a sex slave’s job description.”

  “Consider it a happy surprise, then. Sit down. Relax.”

  “Okay, okay!” Shooting me a skeptical look, she dropped onto my leather sofa, then turned to lean back against the arm, leaving one leg dangling off the side. She raised her head to take a swig of beer. Suddenly I wished I had cushions. Where did one get something like cushions? Were there cushion stores?

  “You comfortable?” I asked her.

  “Better than comfortable. I’m melting.” She set her beer onto the floor. “I’m not sure when I’ve felt this tired.”

  “Ordering me around more effort than you expected?” I got the exhausted part. It was a wonder either of us still had use of our legs.

  “Being your sex master was worth the effort,” she said. “I may never let you be in charge again.”

  “We’ll see about that.” I retrieved a carton of eggs from the fridge, went back for the milk, then studied the instructions on the box. Bowl. I’d forgotten to buy a damned bowl.

  Improvising, I took the larger of my two pots out from under the counter.

  Looked big enough, and mostly clean. “Didn’t hear much objecting when I took charge near the end.”

  “Yeah, well…” Her voice was starting to fade. “That’s only because you taking over was what I wanted. I was still in charge.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  I grabbed a coffee mug, hoping it would substitute for a measuring cup—something else I’d forgotten. How many cups were in a coffee mug? Should I ask Jade? I didn’t want to give her a chance to say, “I told you so.”

  And she looked like she might be asleep. Just as well. I didn’t really need an audience for this. Or advice. I could figure it out. Even if a coffee cup bore no resemblance to an actual cup, I could use it to get the proportions of mix and milk right.

  Fifteen minutes later, I waved my hand to clear the smoke, then carried our plates to the table. Jade stretched like a cat and smiled through sleepy eyes. “Something burn?”

  As she moved to the table, I turned back to the bag of groceries to fetch the syrup. Syrup could fix anything. She was staring ahead like she might have fallen asleep at the table, so I gently touched her shoulder.

  She jumped back, startled.

  “Hey,” I said. “Sorry. Were you asleep?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Syrup?”

  “Sure.”

  I poured some onto her plate and watched her coiled shoulders relax. Someone from her past had hurt her, and whoever he was, I wanted to kill him.

  “Not bad,” she said as she chewed her first mouthful.

  “They kept sticking to the pan.”

  “You need a better pan.” She pointed toward me with her fork.

  “Right tools for the job.”

  “Exactly.” She pushed another huge bite of pancake and syrup into her mouth and chewed with a smile.

  I ate my huge stack of pancakes quickly. They might not look pretty, but they tasted okay. Finished, I leaned back and took a long swig of my beer, watching her eat. My tough girl could look so sweet at times, and right now, sleepy eyed, sitting with one leg tucked under her on the chair, she looked so young, so soft, so vulnerable.

  “Who hurt you?” I asked.

  “What?” Her index finger caught a drip of syrup on her chin. “What makes you think someone hurt me?”

  “Old boyfriend?”

  She jabbed her fork toward me. “Do I come across as a woman who’d let some asshole hurt me?”

  “I guess not.” But there was something… I’d get it out of her eventually.

  “Always lived in the Bay Area?” she asked.

  “Yup. Born and raised. City sure has changed a lot over the years.”

  “No kidding.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how anyone can afford to live in the city anymore.”

  “No kidding. How about you? Bay Area native?”

  “Yeah, mostly in the East Bay, but we moved around a lot.”

  “How come?”

  “Evictions.” She shrugged as if it were nothing. “Crystal and I always had most of the important stuff half-packed, in case we needed to get out quick.”

  “And what things were important?” I smiled. A teddy bear? A photo of their mother?

  “My cast-iron frying pan, for one.”

  “A cook, even then?”

  “The pan was my grandmother’s.”

  “Your dad’s mom?”

  “No, Mom’s.” Her eyes turned wistful, like she was seeing something or someone on the far wall of my apartment.

  “Your grandma still alive?”

  Jade shook her head and studied the burned pancake carnage on her plate. “She died not long after Mom took off.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

  She nodded slowly, without turning toward me. “After Mom left, Grandma came to stay with us for a while. Frank didn’t like it, an
d they fought all the time.” Her jawline hardened. “It was nuts. Frank knew he needed help, but resented it. They got into these long, drag-out fights.”

  “Violent?”

  Her gaze found mine. “Just a lot of yelling, name calling.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Then one night, after a particularly long fight, Grandma went out for cigarettes. It was late.” Her voice trembled.

  I reached across the table for her hand, but she lifted her fingers to wipe the evidence of the tears away.

  “She never came back.” Her voice broke.

  “Deserted you, just like your mom?” Maybe this was the source of her scars?

  Her head dropped. “Murdered.”

  “Oh, my god.”

  She nodded slowly. “Wrong place, wrong time. Got caught in the crossfire of some drive-by.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jade.” I pulled my chair closer and put my hand on her shoulder.

  She leaned against me, and I cradled her head.

  “You know… I’ve never talked about that before. Even with Crystal. She was so little at the time, I’m not even sure she remembers Grandma.”

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  She grew quiet, and warmth infused every part of me as I held her lightly, as we breathed together in tandem, her head and hand on my chest, mine on her head and back. Was this happiness? Love? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it to end.

  She took in a long breath, then pushed away from me, shaking her head and smiling. “Well, that was intense.” She laughed. “Now you need to tell me something. Come on. Spill some secret so this isn’t one-sided.”

  “Not much to tell.” My hands had fallen away from her, and every part of me wanted to hold her again.

  “Come on.”

  I shrugged. My life had been a picnic compared to hers, and I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t seem trivial. “What do you want to know?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “What did you want to be when you were a little boy?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “I don’t buy that.” She grinned with mischief. “No way you always wanted to be a bouncer.”

  “You’re wrong. When the other boys at school were dreaming of being cowboys and firemen, I was dreaming of being a strip club bouncer. It’s all I ever wanted.”

  “Come on, really. You must have had dreams. You must still.”

  I shrugged, the warmth twisting into unease in my gut. “Dreams are for chumps. Better to face up to reality. Who you are. What you are.”

  She leaned back, studying me. “And what do you think you are?”

  “You know who I am. I’m an open book.” I crossed my arms.

  “Tell me.” She leaned forward. So close I could touch her again if I unfolded my arms.

  “I’m a thug. The muscle man. An enforcer.”

  “But who are you really?” She put a hand on my thigh. “If you could do anything, be anything, what would it be?”

  “Who says I don’t like my life?”

  “I dunno. I just…” Leaning back, she studied me intently. For a moment I took it as a dare, a staring contest, but I was being a dick. My arms unfurled.

  “I’m not sure what I want.” I touched her cheek. “Doing what I do, it was natural, I guess. As soon as I got big, I got put into my role.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Me, my brothers, we fit together. Actually, it’s kind of perfect how we’re all good at different things. Keagan’s got a brain for planning, Mac can charm anyone, negotiate deals, Dillon fixes stuff, figures things out, how things work, Shane’s agile, fast, brave beyond belief, and I’m the muscle.”

  “But you’re more than muscle.”

  “You don’t like my muscles?” I leaned toward her.

  “Oh, I like them just fine.” She trailed her fingers over my stomach, and my dick woke. “But you’re more than that. Sounds like your brothers decided what you were going to do, who you were going to be. Sounds to me like you let your brothers push you around.”

  “It’s not like that.” And even if she was right on some levels, my brothers were there for me. Always. We were a team. Nothing was more important than family.

  I grabbed her chair and tugged it toward me, moving her between my spread legs. “No one tells me what to do.”

  “Oh, now that’s where you’re wrong.” She slid her hands up my chest to land around my neck. “I’m in charge still, remember?”

  “What’s your command?” I growled close to her ear.

  “Kiss me, then take me to bed.”

  Capturing her lips with mine, I stood and swept her out of the chair and into my arms.

  Once in the bedroom, I pulled back my duvet, laid her down gently, and stretched out beside her, pulling the cover over us both. With a sigh, she snuggled against my chest, and I draped an arm over her body, overwhelmed by my instinct to protect her.

  I loved that Jade saw more to me than my size, even if I wasn’t sure what she was seeing, but right now, at this moment, my only thoughts were to keep her safe.

  Twenty

  Jade

  I woke in Nick’s bed, half under his body. For the first few seconds of consciousness I felt safe, happy. Then unease crept in.

  This was the first time in my life I’d woken in a man’s bed—sleeping over was so not my thing—and it was like I’d woken on another planet.

  Slowly, I slid out from under Nick’s limbs. He grunted and snuffled a few times, on the verge of waking, but I executed an escape that would impress David Blaine fans.

  After carefully closing his bedroom door, I started to clean up the kitchen, which looked like a battlefield. Fitting, since the pancakes had looked like they’d been through a war.

  Then I remembered. Nick was supposed to be my servant now.

  Every instinct inside me wanted to tidy the kitchen, but I restrained myself and left the mess and went next door to shower and get ready. Crystal was picking me up in an hour.

  The second I got into Crystal’s friend’s car, my sister started talking and didn’t take a break until we were across the Golden Gate Bridge. Not that I minded. I was thrilled she was enjoying her classes and glad to hear all the details in person.

  “Wait a second.” I interrupted a story about one of the men she was sleeping with. “Isn’t Clive your prof?”

  “He’s on faculty, yeah.”

  “Isn’t dating him against the rules?”

  She signaled, then shifted to the left lane of the 101. “I won’t report him.”

  “That’s your takeaway?” I laughed.

  “What?”

  I leaned against the passenger side door. “Crystal, there are reasons that faculty aren’t supposed to date students.”

  “Since when are you one to follow rules?” She frowned at me.

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  “You’re not my mother, you know,” Crystal said in a well-worn refrain, and for a second we were both much younger.

  “I can take care of myself,” she continued. “Besides. Clive and I aren’t dating, just hooking up when we feel like it. What’s the harm in that?”

  “If you say so…” No matter how old we got, I’d never stop worrying about my little sister, wanting to protect her from all the big bads in the world.

  “Enough about me,” she said. “What’s going on? You’ve been tight-lipped.”

  “Tight-lipped? What good would opening them do? You’ve been talking nonstop.”

  “Only because you weren’t saying anything.”

  I rolled my eyes, but it was not worth getting into it. We’d just passed a sign for San Quentin. “Things are good.”

  “How about that Nick guy? He still giving you a hard time? Making you do stuff for him?”

  “No, that’s over.” I wondered how much to share with my sister. “Turns out the Nick who lives next door isn’t the guy who arranged Frank’s deal.”

  She spun her head toward me. “You’re kidding.”


  “Nope. Someone else entirely.” I pointed ahead. “Eyes on the road.”

  “And he was making you do stuff anyway?” She shook her head. “What an asshole.”

  “Here’s the thing, though, Crys. He’s really not.” I stared out the window as we crossed Corte Madera Creek.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Crystal said. “You actually like doing all the cooking and cleaning. Taking care of people. It’s like your calling to serve others.”

  “Shut up,” I said. But she was kind of right. I didn’t like being forced to do any of those things, but taking care of people—people who meant something to me—made me happy. I couldn’t deny that. “To settle the score, Nick’s doing stuff for me now. Whatever I ask.”

  “Really.” She raised her eyebrows a few times. “Do tell! What kind of things? Does it involve a talented tongue?”

  “Pervert!” I felt a flush rise on my cheeks. “It’s not sexual,” I lied. “He helped me carry some furniture, changed some lightbulbs, replaced my leaky shower head.”

  “I thought you said he was hot.”

  “Oh, and he made me pancakes when we got home from work last night.”

  “Now that sounds more interesting. Any sausage with those pancakes?” She winked.

  I stared out the windshield like I’d missed her innuendo. “Nope, just pancakes from a box, drowned in imitation maple syrup.”

  “Yuck.”

  “That about sums it up.” Still, he’d tried, and I couldn’t help the smile that overtook my lips, thinking of Nick’s total fail in the kitchen. He’d scored an A for effort, D minus for execution. But he’d scored all As in all the other subjects we’d explored. Wow.

  “You like him, don’t you!” Crystal slapped my arm lightly as she rounded a curve on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard.

  I shrugged.

  “OMG! Jade actually likes a boy! Alert the press! Warn the devil that hell is about to freeze over!”

  “Very funny. It’s not a big deal.” But it was a big deal. I’d been thinking about him constantly.

  Sure, some of that was because my insides still throbbed and my legs ached from the near acrobatic sex, but my thoughts of Nick went way beyond that. His smile, his kindness, his thoughtfulness, his loyalty to his brothers, the way he protected all the girls at the club. The way he could shift from a protective touch to a possessive hold in the blink of an eye, without ever making me feel unsafe.