So Bad (Bad Boy Next Door #1)(10)

“Thanks.”

Whatever. I don’t have the energy to argue with him. I used it all up earlier.

I set the cup on the floor and flop onto the couch. Rolling to my side, I throw my feet up on the opposite end. Will he get the message, or will I have to spell it out for him?

He picks up my legs and settles under them. His finger circles my ankle, sending little electric vibes to parts of me that have no business feeling anything from Danny.

I jerk my foot, but his big hand grabs it and pulls it firmly against his abdomen. “Relax, will you? You need to rest; you had a rough night.”

My stomach knots. Do I ask? Should I just forget it? Does it matter if I don’t remember?

“What happened once we made it home, aside from my vomiting all over us?”

He chuckles. “You don’t remember?”

I bite my thumbnail and shake my head.

His grin spreads wide, and his eyes twinkle. “Well, you had the most incredible sex of your life—your words, not mine. You were a wild thing. I tried the best I could to keep you off me, but you weren’t having it. So, of course, I had to give you what you wanted. You’re welcome by the way.”

I kick him in the gut and swing my legs to the front of the sofa. “No way!”

He crosses his arm over his stomach, that shit eating grin on his face. “Oh yeah, Sweets. You said I’m better than any of your previous lovers.”

A wave of calm flows over me. Thank heavens. “So, enlighten me: How was I? Good? Do I stack up to your many and varied lays?”

“Meh. Passable. But with a little practice, I think you could improve.” He rubs circles on my back. “Too bad you don’t remember, it being the best experience of your life and all.”

With a roll of my eyes, I stand and head to my bedroom.

“You can let yourself out, Romeo. I’m going to take nap.” I turn back. “Oh, and if you’re going to tell a big fat lie, you should get all your facts first.”

I close the door.

Liar and manwhore.

Dick.


*

It takes a little work, but staying out of Danny’s path is possible.

For someone with no job and no classes, he comes and goes a lot. And there are a ton of people coming and going with him. Probably girls, girls, and more girls. I’m not sure of that—I haven’t seen them. But, knowing Danny, it stands to reason.

Monday and Wednesday and Friday are easy. Between school and the shelter I’m able to stay gone for much of the week. Plus, both have the advantage of keeping my mind off Danny and the thoughts that blast through my brain the rest of the time.

But, today’s Sunday. Danny’s mom isn’t here to miss me, so I’ll skip church. I’ve got no classes, no volunteer hours, and no friends. Not to forget, no pool—thanks to the jackass.

Turning on the stereo, I set the volume just loud enough to hear outside. I grab my sun lotion and head out back, leaving the door open so the music can keep my mind occupied. I have to do something besides stare at these four walls.

I love that the guest house is situated so it backs up to a wooded area that wraps around its sides. Privacy is so underrated. But here, I indulge in my one bad girl activity. Rachel and I started a couple of summers ago. It’s our secret.

Nude sunbathing.

The warm sun on my breasts is heavenly. The way the breeze stirs my curls relaxes me. I spread lotion on my arms, working it over my chest and my nipples.

Unfortunately, applying lotion only brings to mind hands on my body. All this week, I’ve gone to class, volunteered at the women’s shelter, and I even went out with my friends—being extra careful about who got my drinks. But it hasn’t mattered what I’ve done or how much I’ve packed into a day; when I crawl into bed at night all I do is think about Danny.

His hands under my dress. Fingers grazing a place that had never been touched. How much I wanted—still want—his fingers there. How wet my panties were after he left that day. How damp they get every time thoughts of his hands and his chest and—ugh. It all keeps running through my head.

I pour more lotion and run my hands down my legs as my mind wanders to Danny. Moving up, my fingers glide over my clit. A little bit of pressure there feels—good.

I close my eyes and imagine it’s Danny touching me. His hand on this soft place between my thighs.

My breath catches as I take it further than I have before, just a little dip between my pussy lips. What would it be like if Danny’s big fingers were to sink into my folds?





I brush my teeth and head downstairs.

It’s been a week since I saved Mo from that train wreck of a date. A week since I had my arms around her all night.

I’m not sure who’s avoiding whom. It might be her avoiding me. Then again, maybe it’s me. I mean, I should avoid her. Like fucking Ebola. Mo’s nothing but trouble wrapped up in a tempting, luscious bundle of curves and attitude.