So Toxic._ a virgin, fake marriage romance (Bad Boy Next Door Book 4) - Kelley Harvey
ONE
I bury my face in the mattress and cover my ears with my feather pillow. Closing my eyes, I try to ignore the banging rhythm coming from the other half of my duplex. This is the third night in a row that I’ve been subjected to Casanova’s exploits via wall vibrations.
An insane length of time ticks by as he goes on and on and on.
Where does he get the stamina?
Ugh. I can’t stand it anymore.
I roll to my feet. Wedging myself between my headboard and the wall, I push.
At least with the bed not so close to the sheetrock, I should be able to put in earplugs and get some rest. I dig around in the bottom drawer of my nightstand.
Damn. No earplugs.
His speed increases, as does the volume.
Well, hell.
I go to the wall, kinda hating what I have to do, but my job interview tomorrow is too important to not take care of this now. I need sleep. If Genghis Khan over there doesn’t give it a rest, I’m never going to get any shut-eye.
I draw back and let the wall have it. Six quick slaps make my hand sting, but the noise stops on their side.
Thank God.
I climb into bed, pull the sheet to my chin, and let my lids fall closed. A sigh seeps out from between my lips as I let my body relax, starting with my toes. My ankles. My calves. My—
Something slams against the other side of my wall.
Again. Again. Again.
Seriously?
A spoon hangs over the edge of my bowl, sugary milk dripping from it. The anchors on the morning news drone on and on. Their plastic smiles fuzz in and out of focus as my cereal grows soggy and my eyelids drift closed.
Stevie crashes through the front door, her waist-length hair escaping her messy bun.
I jump. My spoon splashes into my breakfast.
She pulls her ear buds from her ears and cocks her head as she jogs in place, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Scare you?”
I rub my face and try to stifle a yawn. Fail.
“I hate our new neighbors.”
Her brows knit. “How can you hate someone you’ve never met?”
“Anyone who deprives me of sleep for almost an entire week doesn’t deserve to be liked. I don’t care if they are newlyweds. That much sex is unnatural. It has got to be unnatural.”
With her hands at the smallest part of her perfect hourglass figure, Stevie barks a laugh. “Like you’d know.”
I shoot her a glare. “Brat.”
She bites her lips, straightens her face, and mumbles, “Bitch.”
She shrugs off the moment. “Newlyweds? Well, I guess maybe, but I didn’t get the gay vibe from the guy I met yesterday. Maybe my gaydar is malfunctioning.”
I expel a breath and clench my jaw tight for a moment. “So it’s a couple of guys?”
Her eyes light.
“Well, gay or not, it’s got to stop. The bed that backs up to my wall needs to be moved to the other side of the room.”
Stevie swipes her wrist across her sweaty brow. “Well, I’m pretty sure they’re home. You can always have a chat with them.”
“I believe I’ll do that.” I pop up from my seat like a Jack-in-the-box.
I tighten my pony tail as I cross the double driveway. I skip up the two steps onto the porch. At the edge of the concrete, a scraggly rosebush boasts a single coral bloom. That thing hasn’t budded in the two years since I’ve lived here, even after the tons of coffee grounds and banana peels our last neighbor spread beneath it.
I raise my fist to knock, but the door opens and a giant almost runs me over as he backs out of it. I grab his waist as I sidestep, trying to avoid his size huge feet.
“Whoa.” He whips around. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
I tilt my head backward. A familiar light gray gaze locks with mine.
The years flake and flutter into the breeze. I’m once again a teenager with a soul-rending crush on the boy next door.
A basketball falls from his hand, bouncing into the bushes.
I stumble away from him. My second step hits air—off the side of the porch. A squeak escapes me as I land on my ass with a thump. Something sharp gouges my left butt cheek. My fingers dig into the dirt, and the soft petals of a rosebud are crushed beneath my palm.
Good Lord.
Embarrassment clings to me along with the leaves from my landing pad. I hang my head.
Great. The first time I see Tyson Masters in—what? Eight years?—I have to freaking fall all over myself, and then onto my ass.
Ty steps down into the mulch.
His big hands circle my waist as he lifts me to my feet and sets me onto the porch. “Sorry ‘bout that. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
My tongue clings to the roof of my mouth, and no words will brave their way past my lips.