So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(310)

His cock presses against my entrance, and he whispers, “You ready to say it?”

“I’m not going to say it, Buck.” Over my shoulder, I stare into his eyes. I can’t. Once I say it, it’s real. Missing him isn’t allowed anymore.

He grins.

“You’ll say it eventually.” He rams his cock into me, pushing me against the tree trunk.

The bark rasps against my nipples, scratching and rubbing as he pushes with each thrust. His finger digs into my clit, rubbing circles over it as he pulls out and slams into me again and again.

Doesn’t mean a thing. It’s just sex.

The rain drips through the leaves. The scent of magnolias saturates the air. My breath puffs between my lips. My grip tenses on the tree limbs with each stroke. Buck plows into me, his fingers clutching my hip.

The more my breasts chafe against the trunk, the more heightened my senses become. His cock makes long strokes, cranking that coil tighter within me. As I crest over the top of the wave, I moan.

Buck shoves me closer to the tree as he jerks his hips, pushing his dick into my pussy. Each time he grunts, I answer in kind. He continues to massage my nub as he drives into me from behind.

With a flash of pleasure that steals my breath, my body and my mind crash over the precipice. My pussy clenches Buck’s erection as he buries it within my folds.

My body can worship his. Doesn’t have to mean I love him.

He wraps my body with his strong arms as he yanks me down onto his cock and holds me there, his hips thumping against me with his final thrusts as he lets loose. “Fuck, Lou. Fuck. Damn.”

His hot cum shoots into my quivering body, filling me with warmth I’ve never experienced as my pussy convulses around his flexing erection. I shiver and lean my head back onto his shoulder.

I pry my fingers loose from the branches, surprised they didn’t break off in my hands.

He kisses my temple as his touch smoothes over my breasts and my belly, brushing off the bits of bark and leaves stuck to my wet skin. “I think I got you a little dirty.”

He’s done more than get me dirty.

He’s invaded my every sense and infiltrated my defenses with one precision attack after another. He’s run his campaign like a war he intends to win.

But what exactly is his endgame?

He turns me around, pressing me against the tree, his body cooled from the rain, his tongue hot on my lips. Then he kisses both of my eyes, down my cheek, and across to my ear.

He whispers, “I still love you, Lou. I never stopped.”

I push him away, snatching my dress from the ground. Shaking off the leaves that have fallen on it, I glare at him.

“No. You aren’t allowed to do that now. To say that. Not after all this time. Not after I wanted you to say it so badly for so long, but you packed up and left instead.”

I yank the dress over my head, tying the straps behind my neck as I stalk away. I have to get out of here before my heart changes my mind.





NINETEEN





I throw myself backward on the wet blanket as Lou walks away. It’s hard to believe I laid my heart out there like that and she just tossed it back in my face.

Fuck.

I never thought showing someone you love them could be so damned hard.

There was a time when it was easy between us. Lou used to follow me wherever I went. Whatever I came up with, she’d go along with—even if we both knew it was gonna land us in hot water.

The trees sway in the breeze even as thick humidity rises now that the sun’s come out again.

How often did we lay under these very trees, talking and dreaming about what our futures would hold? So many times Lou talked about our lives. Since that first summer I moved in with Nan and Pops, when Lou and I became friends, she always talked about the future as if we’d be fixtures in each other’s lives. Shit. I did too.

A memory of Lou and me stuffing a jar full of small things we thought we’d want to see later comes to mind. I sit up and pull the edge of the blanket away from the base of the magnolia tree. Sifting through the mud, I work my fingers deep until they hit the jar I’m looking for. I pull it from the ground and wipe the mud from our time capsule’s sides. It’s surprising the glass held up and didn’t get entwined in the roots too much to get out of the ground without much effort.

I think we must’ve buried this thing the second, maybe the third, summer we were friends. I must’ve been ten or eleven. I grip the lid, but it won’t budge. I get to my feet, toss it to the middle of the quilt, and wrap it up.


* * *

I step under the hot spray and scrub the mud from my hands. Holding the shower head, I allow it to drain over my hair. The water flows over my face.

There has to be a way to make Lou remember the way she felt about me. Maybe the time capsule is the key to bringing Lou back to what we used to mean to each other—how she trusted me back then and the way were together, so in tune with one another.