Tempted: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance

by Willow Winters

  I struggle against his hold on me. I don’t know why I bother; his biceps are bulging, corded with toned muscle.

  He keeps me rooted in place easily, staring at me with fire in his eyes. “You need to settle down. Your mouth is going to get you into trouble.”

  I tremble beneath his gaze, practically spellbound by his intensity. Below, I can feel his hard, throbbing cock pressed against my lower stomach. I’m breathless, feeling it pulsate against me, and my temples pound from my racing pulse. My nipples pebble. Seriously, I can probably give Madonna and her cone bra a run for their money right now.

  Fuck. My panties are soaked. I'm embarrassed, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to calm myself down.

  “Let me go,” I order when I finally feel in control again. I try to sound strong, commanding, but my words come out painfully weak.

  He shakes his head and keeps my gaze. “Nope. I think I’ll hold you here until you check your attitude.”

  “You can’t do that,” I say, my breathing ragged. I try again to tug free from his powerful grip, but I might as well be trying to move a mountain.

  “Sure I can.” He presses into me a little harder and I can practically feel his heartbeat pump through his massive cock.

  Dear God. My pussy clenches with need. The thought of him fucking me right here, right now, races through my mind. Thing is, it’d probably make me feel a lot better right now. And shockingly, I want it. I want him. I am really fucked in the head.

  Seriously, the close proximity to his hard body and throbbing cock is making me tremble with insatiable need.

  I can’t believe this. This is the man that stole my inheritance from me. Get a hold of yourself, Lizzie!

  “I know you want it, too,” he continues, bringing his lips dangerously close to mine. “In fact, I bet that pussy is soaking wet for me right now.”

  My heart flutters in my chest. The bastard is right. I’m going to need a new pair of panties.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I croak. I hate how weak I sound.

  Liam grins in response. “You sure about that? How about you drop those panties and prove that I’m wrong?”

  It’s crazy how much I want to please him. I actually consider doing it. The thought of feeling something other than this hatred and sadness is tempting. My lips part with the need to kiss him. Luckily, a loud sound from outside, like a car door slamming shut, breaks me from the lust clouding my better judgment.

  This is a line I can’t cross.

  “Get your fucking hands off me,” I say with as much force as I can muster. This time tears prick my eyes and I break eye contact with him. I need to get out of here and away from him.

  He knows I’m serious.

  “Fine,” he says as he slowly lets me down. He keeps his hands on me until I’m balanced and I think about shoving him away, but I don’t need any more physical contact or threat of punishment from him.

  I sulk as I head to the door and turn to face him to say one last thing. “I don’t care what you say. I’m going to find out what you did. And when I do, you’re going to pay.”

  I turn and tromp across the yard to my family home, the shitty mood only bringing my mood lower. I can't believe this fucking asshole is right next door. I wish I could put more distance between us, but I can’t. I struggle to get the key into the lock and I fight the urge to scream out, feeling so helpless and pitiful. By the time I get inside, I’m soaking wet from the cold, spitting rain. I slam the door closed and lean my back against it, my breathing ragged.

  I'm so angry. I’m angry at being attracted to such a bastard. More than that, I’m angry that I have no idea how I’m going to find out how he knew my stepfather. I need to know who that man is. I just don’t know how to find out other than asking him. But after today, I know I need to stay far away from him.

  Chapter 4

  Liam

  I feel like shit. I was harsh with her, and I shouldn’t have been. I know she’s upset. Shit, they just put him in the ground today.

  She may think I’m some crook, but if she’d stop hating me for one damn minute she’d see what a mistake she’s making.

  Her anger and the way she’s been talking to me are starting to affect me. I didn't expect that. I was curious before, but now I'm close to being fucking obsessed. I’ve got a hard-on that’s just not going down. Maybe that would shut her up. I huff a laugh thinking about her down on her knees with those plump lips wrapped around my cock. She'd probably do it just so she could bite me. I wince at the thought and walk back to the living room.

  If she wasn’t Richard’s baby girl I’d make sure I fucked this broad out of my system. I run a hand through my hair and walk over to the boxes I was putting together. I've gotta pack everything up.

  I grab the clear packing tape from the coffee table and make sure the bottom of this box is secure. I’ve got a lot of shit over here. I didn’t even realize that I’d practically moved in here. It's been nearly three months. I guess I just slowly moved things over here.

  To this shitty little house. Well, not shitty I guess. It’s old though and small compared to my place.

  Richard didn’t have anyone though. He was too damn stubborn and he outright refused to tell Elizabeth anything. He didn’t want help, but I wasn’t gonna let him die in that house all alone. I couldn't let that happen. Not after what happened with my own father. I wasn't gonna just walk away from him.

  I wanna tell her everything. I saw the hurt in her eyes when I said that shit about not being there. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. She has to know that. I don’t want her to think I was there for him when she wasn’t. Even though it’s true. It's not fair for her to think that way.

  He didn't even really want me there. Well, at least that's what he said. But he never sent me away, and he was always happy to have the company. I remember how even toward the end, he always prepared coffee for us. Stubborn bastard. He always had to beat me to it, even when things got to the point where he could hardly do a damn thing for himself. He never wanted her to see him deteriorate like that.

  I throw the tape down on the hardwood floor and cover my eyes. I’m not an emotional man, but I remember the way he talked about it. How he said he'd never put her through that.

  He had a hospital bed in the living room. By the end he was hooked up to machines, and the stubborn man still wouldn’t tell her. The last conversation they had, I was there at his side. I was waiting for him to tell her so she could at least say goodbye. But he didn't.

  I take a deep breath and steady myself.

  It gets to me though.

  Richard reminded me of my own father. I was young when my parents got in the car crash. I remember my pops in the bed at the hospital though.

  I thought he was gonna make it.

  I didn’t understand how he could survive the crash, only to die a few days later.

  Shit, Richard even looked like my pops.

  I remember when he came into the office to put in his first bet. I did a double take. He was wearing faded jeans and an old flannel shirt just like my old man would’ve worn. Richard had greying hair that was thinning out some, and his hands were worn from all his years of honest labor.

  We see a lot of clients day in and day out. Even though most only show up when they have to pay. They’re never happy then. Instead they're usually scared and wishing they could take it all back.

  I’m not gonna lie, I make good money off their bad bets. I run the business with my brother and cousin. I guess it’s a family business, considering my uncle’s the one who raised the three of us and taught us the ropes.

  When the clients come in to place the bets though, they’re giddy. Happy and excited. They feel like they can’t lose.

  But not Richard. I’d seen that look on his face a few times before, and I could tell right away what it meant. He was a man who needed the money.

  I almost didn’t take it. I watched as he placed the bet with Zac, my brother. He was obviously new t
o placing bets, but he pulled out a piece of paper with his notes on it. He’d done his research at least.

  When he lost, he came in to double down. He'd placed a shit bet. He looked worse off than he'd been before.

  Tyler brought me in to see what I wanted to do about it. Zac takes the bets, but Tyler makes sure they pay up. And I make sure shit runs smoothly. It’s a nice system we have going. Tyler could tell something was off with Richard, too. When you don’t come in with the money you owe us, there’s a problem. Tyler knows how to deal with that shit, but the desperation coming off Richard was something else.

  I told the old man that making bets he couldn’t pay would get his legs broken. Richard just gave me a smile and told me I’d get my money either way. He just needed the money fast.

  Colon cancer’s a bitch. And expensive.

  His days were numbered; it was already spreading. He said he had to try though. His insurance disagreed. They gave him less than twelve weeks and said the treatments probably wouldn’t do anything. So they refused to pay. But he wasn't giving up hope. He had to live. He had a daughter who needed him, and he wasn’t going to go down without fighting.

  I don’t listen to sob stories. I don’t care about personal shit. But for some reason I had to help this guy out. I grabbed the cash from the vault and handed it over to him without thinking twice. Two hundred and twenty grand.

  At first he refused. He tried giving it back to me. That's just the kind of stubborn asshole he was. But after I gave him an ultimatum, the cash in my hands or nothing, he finally left with the money.

  The next day he came back with the deed to a house and the key.

  He said the real estate agents couldn’t sell it in time, but if he could, he’d have the money he needed, easy. But he said after he was gone, I could sell it and it should be worth a bit more than the money I gave him.

  I could see the pride in his eyes vanish when I shook my head and told him I didn't want it. It hurt him to be given the money. So I grabbed the deed just to make him happy. He nodded and shook my hand.

  I didn’t know what to do with it. I don’t need shit from anyone. And I sure as hell don't need a house in the suburbs.

  That night I drove by the address on the deed and saw him there. It took a good ten minutes before I realized it was the house next door that he’d given me.

  Maybe it’s because I could never do anything for my pops, I don’t know for sure, but that night I stayed in the house and made sure I saw him every day that followed.

  The doctors were right; the treatments didn’t help, and I was there when the life left him.

  It fucked me up pretty good. One minute, the machine was beeping, the next it was just a single tone.

  I wish he hadn’t made me promise not to tell anyone. Especially Elizabeth. She’d feel so much better if she knew the truth. I know she would.

  I told that old bastard he should tell her. But he looked me in the eyes and said he didn’t want her to remember him like that.

  Tears prick my eyes and I have to stop thinking back to him and all that shit. I place my phone in my pocket and try to get back into work. I need a damn distraction from all this. But that’s fucked, too.

  Ian’s making threats and being a pain in my ass. He’s our competition in a way. And he’s slowly losing his clients to us because of his shit business tactics. My cousin, Tyler, should know to take care of this shit and nip it in the bud. Intercepting clients and making deals to pay off their debts with me is a no-no, and Ian knows it. I already know I’m gonna have to step in before shit gets out of hand. I don’t feel like it though.

  I’m so damn exhausted. I get up and make my way upstairs. I just need to sleep this off. All this stress and no outlet to relieve it is making me tired beyond belief.

  I remember Elizabeth’s soft body against mine. I fucking want her. She tempted me, and now all I can think about is punishing her tight pussy. I'm surprised with how much restraint I had.

  As I collapse onto my bed upstairs, I can faintly hear Elizabeth. Her childhood bedroom is right across from my bedroom. Only ten feet or so separates our houses. But from my window, I can see straight into hers. I know because I’ve looked out this window staring at Richard’s house, waiting for this all to end so many damn times.

  I hear another small sob and it breaks my heart. She’s crying again. Fuck, it hurts to know she’s right there. If she didn’t want to hate me so much, I could take away her pain, mine too, if only for a moment. It’s better than having to deal with all these shitty emotions.

  I wanna go over there.

  I wanna ease her pain.

  I want her to take mine away, too. I already know how good she’d feel.

  I wanna make this right. I don’t know why this is all fucked. But I’ll make it right. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole. She doesn’t owe me shit. It was selfish of me to do that shit today. I did it out of anger and pride, and took advantage of her mourning her father. I’m such a fucking prick.

  First thing in the morning, I’ll let her know it’s all hers and that I’m gone.

  I’m a bad man, but I’m not so bad that I wanna hurt her like that.

  She’s too good for me anyway.

  I should’ve known better. I never should’ve chased something I can never have.

  Chapter 5

  Lizzie

  I can get through this. One step at a time.

  I take in a slow, trembling breath, fighting back the pain twisting my stomach. After a moment, I let out a sob and bury my head in my pillow, muffling my cries. Smothering the screams.

  It’s so hard being in this house. Memories of daddy keep flashing through my mind, filling me with grief-tinged nostalgia. I can still see him now. His weathered, but charming smile. The gentle way he always treated me. How dearly he loved me. Fuck. I’m even seeing mom, too. It's been so long since that pain has felt so raw.

  I’m trying hard to keep myself together. But I feel like my soul’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces.

  Fight it! I shout in my mind, trying to deny the tidal wave of pain surging through my limbs, making me want to wallow in my grief. Be strong!

  That’s what daddy would want. He’d want me to fight, be strong for him. Not indulge in my misery. I have to do it. I have to make him proud.

  After what seems like an eternity, I’m able to quiet my sobs, though the tears and pain remain. I sit up on my bed, sniffle, and wipe at my tearstained face. I look around my room, noting that everything is exactly how I left it. Ryan Reynolds posters adorn the pale pink walls, and there’s a big fat ass purple Barney stuffed animal in the right corner of the room. I thought it was funny to keep him, but now all it does is remind me of how my father won him for me at a carnival. It fucking hurts.

  Emotion threatens to overcome me again, but somehow, I manage to push it back.

  Last night wasn’t good. Not at all. I thought I’d be productive. I thought with how angry I was at Liam I could handle going into daddy’s room and packing up some of his things. I was wrong, for two reasons. One is that I’m definitely not ready to say goodbye yet. The second is that daddy had already done it. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, but I don’t bother to brush them away. He knew he was dying. He cleaned up everything so there wouldn’t be as much work for me. The tears come harder, and I press my palms to my eyes. It hurts so much. I wish he’d spent his last moments with me and not doing shit like that.

  It takes a moment for me to calm down. A long moment.

  “Pain, pain go away,” I whisper, “Don’t come back for any day.”

  I sit there for a while, staring at my posters. Numb all over. Then a thought occurs to me.

  Maybe I should just give Liam what he wants. I’ll have to sell this house. I know I will. I have so much debt, and no job. I haven’t had any income while I've been in school. Grad school doesn't leave time for anything else other than hitting the books. School. I huff a humorless laugh. That’s a pipe dream now.r />
  The idea of giving in to Liam is so appalling, I almost let out a bloodcurdling scream of fury. Seriously. It pisses me the fuck off to have to rely on the handout of a stranger. But the stakes are high. If I can't dial back my ego, I'll lose my house. My father's house. The one thing I have left of him. And if I give in to Liam, I'll lose my pride. Pride's the only thing I have left at this point.

  I have to decide which is more important. And that's an easy choice. I can't let go of this place. I can't say goodbye like that.

  A date will give me a chance to know him more. And I do want that. I need to figure out who the hell this man is. I wish I wasn’t so attracted to him though. It makes things complicated.

  Shit. I hate it. I hate how he makes me feel, how he makes me want him. It’s not right. It’s not right how I want him to bend me over and fuck me like I’m his. How I want him to own every inch of my body.

  I should tell him to fuck off. To go to hell. Fight the will and contest it. Take him to court, sue him for everything he’s got. But deep down, I know it’s not worth the fight.

  The smug, handsome bastard has me in the palm of his hand.

  And he so knows it, I think angrily.

  If I accept his offer, I don’t know how I’ll get through it. Good God, how can I survive being around a man I want to kill and fuck, all at the same time?

  This house. I need to focus on keeping this house and just being able to live. I have no money without doing this.

  That’s it. My inheritance. What’s rightfully mine. What he stole from me. If I keep my mind on that, I should be good. He’ll never get to lay a finger on me. One date, and then it’s all over.

  I wipe my face one more time and rise from my bed. I’ve got dried tears and slobber all over my face and nightgown. A cool shower will do me some good.

  I make my way into the bathroom. I grab a towel and place it on the sink. Then I disrobe and look in the mirror. A haggard-looking young woman looks back at me. Even with a pound of foundation on left over from yesterday, I can see the bags under my eyes. Days of no sleep and constant crying spells are really showing.