Free The Bad Boy Next Door by Lexxie Couper Page B

trip here were higher.”
    I swallowed.
    Lucas turned and left me alone in the bathroom.
    It took me longer to get dressed than it should, given all I was doing was pulling on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
    The T-shirt was snug and had a deep V neckline that showed more cleavage than I was normally comfortable with. But even with the mayhem and confusion on the last few hours, the thought of Lucas being able to check out my boobs in such a way made my pussy contract with wicked excitement.
    The shorts were short. You could damn near see my butt cheeks peeking out from beneath the frayed hemline.
    I studied my reflection in the mirror, my heart racing. and let out a shaky sigh when I realized I couldn’t stand in the bathroom any longer.
    By the time I descended the stairs from the top floor to the living room level, the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. My mouth filled with saliva.
    Lucas looked up from where he was placing a steaming mug on the dining table, along with what looked like a platter of freshly cut fruit. “Like the shorts,” he said.
    I flipped him off, even as my tummy twisted with in purely sexual delight.
    Without any other response, I crossed to the table, lowered myself in a seat and snagged one of the coffees.
    Lucas watched me take a sip. I watched him watch me.
    An enigmatic expression flickered over his face and then he walked back into the kitchen.
    Taking another sip of the coffee, I continued to watch him as he placed a pan on the stovetop and turned on the gas. The coffee was good. So good. The bastard. Of course he would make the best coffee I’ve ever had.
    “It was the cop who asked me to kill someone.”
    My stomach rolled at his statement, uttered in an offhand way over his shoulder as he cracked an egg into the pan.
    The sizzling pop and crackle of the egg frying filled the silence between us. I was glad for that. I had no fucking clue what to say. I’d grown up without hearing statements like that. The most horrific statement I’d ever heard in my formative years, those years responsible for how you deal with stressful situations, was, “Veronica, would you like to go to the Justin Bieber concert?”
    When Lucas turned back to me, his eyes were angry. And haunted. “The cop—a piece of work called Officer Dewey—became obsessed with me after watching me on the underground MMA circuit. One night, he followed me after a fight. That was how he discovered I was a member of Trinity. He used it as a means to initiate a relationship with me.”
    I didn’t like the way he said relationship . Not at all. My face must have shown it.
    Lucas chuckled, the sound bleak and dry and without any humor at all. “Yeah, he wanted to fuck me. When I emphatically said no, he gave me two options—let him fuck me or be arrested.”
    The wave of nauseous tension that had been churning in my stomach turned into a tidal wave of sickened disbelief. I knew cops weren’t all paragons of virtue, but blackmailing a teenager into sex? Jesus.
    “Wh—” I stopped, my mouth dry. “What did you do?”
    An image too horrific to describe filled my head. I wanted to wrap Lucas in my arms and hold him, protect him, take away the grief he must be living with.
    He chuckled again. “I got arrested.”
    I blinked.
    “My parents don’t know that of course,” he said, an unreadable emotion in his eyes as he watched me gape at him. “There was nothing to stick and no crime to pin on me. As I was leaving the station, Dewey caught up with me and made me another offer. Turn C.I. for him.”
    “C.I.?” Oh God, my tummy was a mess. “Criminal informant? That’s dangerous.”
    “It is. But I agreed.”
    “Why?”
    Lucas drew a slow breath. “He threatened me with something far more important than my anal virginity.”
    The way he regarded me told me I didn’t want to hear what that something was. And yet, I asked anyway. “What?”
    “You. Dewey told me he’d make your life hell. And by