So Bad (Bad Boy Next Door #1)(8)

“I’m not getting on that death trap you call a bike.”

“No, you aren’t. I have my car.” He turns me toward the parking lot.

Try as I might to stand stiff, I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I have to go easily. “I don’t want to be alone with you.”

“Well, it’s got to be better than being on your own with Fuck-face back there.” He drops his arm over my shoulder. “Look, Mo, I saved your ass twice today. If I don’t get you home soon, you might end up in the hospital.”

Exhaustion spreads through me like a prelude to death. My feet are leaded and my hands are made of clay. The concrete sucks me down like quick sand. How did it do that?

Danny grabs me. “Oh shit, that was fast.”

He sweeps me into his arms and hikes me to his chest. He’s so strong and his heart beats so powerfully against me.

“Why haven’t I ever listened to your heart before? It’s so—so—”

The world wobbles under my feet. Or maybe they’re Danny’s feet. I don’t know which.





Fucking splooge spigot. Some dudes are assholes.

And Mo. What the hell was she thinking, taking a drink from some guy she obviously doesn’t know that well?

I jog to her front door and jiggle the handle.

Damn it. Locked

She’s sacked out in my passenger’s seat like a little girl who’s had too long of a day at the fair. I grab her bag and open it. Somehow, looking through a woman’s purse is akin to going into no man’s land. Some kind of sacred ground or shit.

Forget it. She’s liable to cut my fucking hand off or something if I rummage through her things.


*

I carry her through the house. Up the stairs. Into my room.

After I deposit her onto the bed, I plop down next to her, pull her into my arms, and wait. No telling what the fuck that guy gave her.

Her breaths are even, but heavy. At least she’s breathing. First sign she’s having trouble, I’ll call an ambulance.

She’s soft. Sweet.

I soak it in. This is probably as close as I’ll get to—well, it doesn’t matter. It’s not forever. But it is for now.

Eventually, Dad won’t have anything to hold over me and things will be different. Until then, I’ll take my revenge out on him—one tat, one girl, one speeding ticket at a time. Shithead’s lucky I love Mom and Rach, or I’d burn his fucking house down.

I could sink his car in the lake. Maybe shred his thousand dollar suits and his Italian loafers. Or, better yet, I could go on the news and tell the world the Jennings aren’t the cover family for Holier Than Thou Magazine like everyone thinks we are—well, except for me. No one thinks that about me; I’ve made sure of that.

How do people not realize what a fucking hypocrite he is? How can no one see what I see? Hell, my own sister doesn’t; I guess I can’t expect someone outside the family to understand the level of hypocrisy he attains with each breath he takes.

Mo jerks. Her shoulders roll as she heaves.

Great.

I slide her to the mattress and grab the waste basket. I pull her across my lap and hold her hair away from the mess as she hurls. Again. And Again.

I shake my head.

Want to fuck a girl? Then fuck a girl who wants to get fucked. There are plenty of them out there, no need to drug one who isn’t game. Hell, he didn’t even get to the part of the date where you find out if the girl wants to get fucked. He skipped that part altogether. Double douche.

He better hope we don’t run into each other again. One punch wasn’t nearly enough. I should’ve beaten his skull in, broken his fucking fingers, and made sure he could never even think about doing this to another girl.


*

Mo pushes up from my chest, swiping her hair away from her face. “What happened? Oh, my God, Danny! Where is my dress? And where are your freaking clothes?”

I crack an eyelid. Gray light spills through the slats in my blinds. Man, she’s beautiful. I pull her against me and pat the back of her head. “You puked on it. And me. Besides, I’m wearing clothes.”

Her voice raises an octave as she scrambles to the foot of the bed. “Boxer briefs are not clothes.”

“Come on. It’s way early. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“No! And you’re—good lord, do you always have a—a…”

Damn. She’s not going to go back to sleep.

I push my fingers through my hair. “It’s morning wood, Sweets. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Mo stands, only to sink to the edge of the bed, her head between her knees. “What on Earth? Why am I dizzy? I didn’t even drink anything.”

“Whatever your date gave you must’ve been some potent shit. And you did down half of your soda before you tossed it in his face.”