Free The Bad Boy Next Door by Lexxie Couper Page A

Lucas’s deep voice to my right.
    He leant against the inside wall of the closet, his grin lazy and satisfied as he watched me. There was no way I could miss the fact he was still naked. Christ, he was the most exquisite example of the male species I’ve ever encountered. And the most arrogant.
    Prick.
    Of course, that didn’t stop my body reacting to the open hunger in his eyes as he regarded me, or the sheer maleness of his naked form.
    Stupid body.
    “In that case,” I said, turning back to the clothes, “I think I’ll wear a maxi dress so you can’t—”
    His laughter preceded his firm grip on my wrist, which preceded—by barely a heartbeat—him yanking me to his chest and crushing my mouth with his.
    The possessive kiss lasted a split second. Long enough for me to realize I had fuck-all chance of resisting him.
    And then he let me go with another chuckle.
    I swayed on my feet for a second. Swayed. For a goddamn second.
    He chuckled, and slapped my ass. “Short shorts, Ronnie.”
    Grinding my teeth, I watched him turn to his side of the closet and select a pair of Levis that looked like they’d been worn a hundred times.
    I made the mistake of tracking his hands as he shook out his jeans, which brought my line of sight dangerously close to his groin.
    My pulse quickened as his impressive cock came into my peripheral and, muttering, “Bastard prick,” loud enough for him to hear me, I snatched a pair of shorts from my side, along with a T-shirt.
    Shorts.
    Yeah, I know.
    Without looking at Lucas, I stomped from the closet and across the bedroom.
    My overnight bag with my toiletries was still in my car in the garage. I could stomp out to it naked to collect it, thereby allowing me to apply my jasmine-scented deodorant, or I could stomp into the bathroom and use Lucas’s deodorant.
    I stomped to the bathroom.
    Screw him.
    I’d just finished dousing my armpits in sandalwood-scented spray when Lucas came up behind me.
    His hands slid over my hips. My bare hips. Damn it, why hadn’t I at least put my shorts on first?
    Because I wanted him to come in here to me?
    He pressed his groin to my ass, the smooth denim of his jeans a wicked friction against my skin. “Sure you want to talk, Ronnie?” he murmured into my ear, his lips a tickling caress. A ripple of excitement licked up my spine. My nipples pebbled.
    Sucking in a sharp breath, I turned to face him. His palms burned my hips, hot and confident and possessive. His eyes blazed with the same arrogance. And yet I could see in him an uncertainty. A vulnerability I’d never seen before.
    With a ragged sigh, I nodded. “I’m sure, Lucas. I need to know what’s going on, and you need to tell me. Before whatever this is between us becomes something else.”
    He searched my eyes, maybe to see if he could convince me otherwise. Maybe glad for the fact I was forcing him to finally share what he’d kept from me for so long.
    The thing was, now it was going to happen, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to. Ignorance is bliss and all. When I knew, I had no way of unknowing , and I’d spent so many years operating on the assumption the boy next door was a prick with an attitude and chip on his broad shoulder, I didn’t know if I was ready to discover he was anything but.
    “Finish getting dressed, Ronnie,” he said, his tone calm and enigmatic. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
    He dropped a gentle kiss on my forehead—quick and tender and utterly unlike any kiss he’d given me before—and then turned to leave.
    “Lucas?” I called after him.
    He stopped. “Yes?”
    “Why tell me to pack an overnight bag given there’s a whole wardrobe here for me?” I drew a steadying breath. “I mean, if I looked hard enough in these cupboards, what are the chances of me finding toiletries for me?”
    He let out a low chuckle. “The chances are very high.”
    “So why make me pack a bag?”
    He dropped his head. “Because the chances of me not surviving the