The Boy Next Door Read online

  It’s too late. He’s already here.

  I straighten my shoulders. Fine, I can do this. It’s one date. One single chance. That’s all I agreed to. If he fucks it up, I can walk away with a clear conscience. When my heart clenches at the idea of us really being over, I brush it aside and tell myself that it’s for the best. Colton isn’t the kind of guy I need in my life. He’s just the one I’m attracted to.

  For a moment, I force myself to relive the way he broke up with me. The text message that popped up out of nowhere. And then waiting outside his locker room when he refused to take my calls. A dull ache fills me as I dredge up the ugliness of his words.

  Come on, girl, you had to know this was a long shot when we got together. It was a gamble. You rolled the dice, and it came up snake eyes. You should be giving me props for remaining faithful this long. As much as I’ve enjoyed your unicorn pussy, this whole exclusivity thing isn’t for me. I wouldn’t mind keeping you in my back pocket and having a taste of it every once in a while. No strings attached, of course.

  It’s the rap of knuckles against wood that knocks me out of the painful memory as I force my feet into motion. When I’m standing in front of the door, I inhale a shaky breath before reaching out and twisting the knob. Even though it’s not a surprise to find Colton standing on the other side of the threshold, my heart skips a beat.

  Instead of his normal jeans or athletic shorts paired with a T-shirt, he’s wearing a pale pink polo and chinos that hug his muscular thighs. There’s an oversized silver watch wrapped around his left wrist and a sprinkle of dark blond hair covering his bare forearms.

  My mouth turns cottony as I take in the sight of him.

  Why does he have to be so damn sexy?

  I gulp as a fresh burst of nerves explodes inside me. I am in so much trouble. This was a mistake. One I never should have agreed to. Already I know there’s only one way this will end, and that’s badly.

  For me.

  No matter what happens, I’m going to get hurt. And I’m nowhere near healed from the last time.

  The way his gaze skims over me feels very much like a physical caress. “You look beautiful.”

  Heat seeps into my cheeks as I glance away. It’s difficult to hold his stare. The possessiveness that fills his eyes leaves me feeling skittish. “Thanks.”

  As much as I didn’t want to dress with Colton in mind this evening, that’s exactly what I found myself doing. Even though it’s mid-September, and the weather is seasonable, I know the temperature will drop, and it will become chilly. I decided on a thin, loosely knit, cream-colored sweater with three-quarter length sleeves and a short red skirt with a white tear drop pattern. I’ve paired silvery sandals with the outfit. It’s a little summer and autumn mixed together.

  If I was looking for confidence, this outfit gives it to me. Although maybe that approach has backfired because the appreciation in Colton’s eyes is clear.

  “Let me get my purse, and we can go,” I say, needing to break the escalating tension before it reaches a flashpoint.

  “Sounds good.”

  I give myself a silent pep talk as I grab the black bag off the dining room table and return to the entryway.

  Nothing is going to happen that I don’t want.

  That knowledge doesn’t provide nearly enough comfort given the fact that I fold like a cheap house of cards every time he lays his hands on me. Fortunately, we’ll probably head out to a party. Colton will get swarmed by groupies, and I’ll be on my own for the duration of the evening. Then I can tell him he had his chance and blew it. I remember all too well what it was like to go out with him in public. He has an overzealous fan club, and from what I’ve witnessed since my return, they’re as enthusiastic as ever. It’s a reassuring thought.

  He steps aside as I stride into the hallway and close the door behind me.

  A couple of hours, and this will be over.

  As I move toward the elevator, he says, “We’re not heading that way.”

  Huh? I grind to a halt before swinging around to face him. “I don’t understand.”

  One side of his mouth hitches at the confusion that must be written across my face. “I made dinner for us at my apartment.”

  My mouth dries at the idea of spending time alone with him. “Oh.” Well, shit. This isn’t good. “Um...I thought we were going to hit a party.”

  Heat fills his eyes, and his voice drops. “I didn’t want there to be any distractions.”

  I gulp down my growing unease.

  Yeah, that’s exactly what I’d been counting on. Distractions, and plenty of them.

  I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other before blurting, “I’m not going to have sex with you again.”

  “It’s just dinner, Lys.” A chuckle escapes from him. “That’s all this is.”

  It won’t ever be just dinner.

  Not with Colton.

  Not with the way my heart is hammering under my chest.

  And Beck won’t be there to run interference either. His parents are having an anniversary celebration this weekend. Both he and Mia returned home, albeit separately. Like they would ever travel together? Ha! Not likely. My bestie wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Colton holds out his hand for me to take. “Are you ready?”

  Nope! Not at all.

  Instead of admitting the truth, I jerk my head into a tight nod, tentatively placing my fingers in his. A sizzle of awareness shoots down my spine as his larger ones close around them. Why does it have to be like this between us? After everything that happened, how is he still able to affect me like this?

  A horde of butterflies erupts in my belly with every step that brings me closer to his apartment. Any moment, they’re going to find an escape hatch and break loose. Once the door is opened, he ushers me inside. I pause in the entryway and glance around. The place is dimly lit, but it smells—I cautiously sniff the air—really good.

  Familiar.

  When I realize what it is, I spin toward him. “You ordered chicken parmigiana?”

  His smile widens. “Nope, I made it with my own two hands.”

  “What?” Since when does Colton cook?

  He chuckles at my surprise. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy. I had Jenna on the phone for an hour, walking me through the steps.”

  I...have no words.

  “Why would you do that?” I whisper, trying to wrap my head around this information.

  “Because it’s your favorite.” He shrugs. “At least it used to be.” The question is there, lurking in his eyes.

  “It still is,” I begrudgingly admit. I love Italian to begin with, but chicken parm is my absolute favorite. I’ve had it at every Italian restaurant I’ve ever visited. Some have been amazing, while others have just been good.

  When I continue to stare in bewilderment, he places his hand on the small of my back and propels me gently inside the apartment. Ten steps bring me into the dining room. The setup is exactly the same as ours. Two bedrooms to the left with a bathroom in the middle and a small living room straight ahead. Outside there’s a balcony big enough for a cafe-style table and two chairs. The kitchen is to the right with all the essentials, minus a dishwasher, crammed into the tight space. A breakfast bar surveys the living room/dining room combination. While my apartment is decorated and homey with artwork and photographs, the guy’s apartment is bare. More utilitarian in nature. It’s a place to drop their bags at the end of the night and crash.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” he asks, interrupting my perusal.

  Holy crap. Is he offering me an adult beverage?

  Well, he’s certainly pulling out all the stops. It’s a little frightening. At least, I’m alarmed by it. As much as I shouldn’t give in and have a drink, I need something to steady my nerves.

  “Go ahead and sit down.” He points to the table, which is already set with plates and silverware. “Everything is ready.”

  On wooden legs, I force myself to the table and awkwardly
take a seat on the chair. My fingers fidget restlessly in my lap. Colton returns with two glasses of red wine before offering one to me.

  Once mine is in hand, he raises his glass and offers a toast. “To new beginnings.”

  Another burst of nerves explode inside me. With stiff lips, I echo the sentiment and raise the glass to my mouth before gulping down at least half the contents. If this behavior continues, I will never make it through the evening.

  If he’s aware of my anxiety, he refrains from commenting. Instead, he returns to the kitchen and brings out a colorful-looking salad filled with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and croutons before doling out our servings. There’s a bottle of Italian dressing already on the table. I pour just enough to give the greens taste. What I’ve discovered over the years is that there is no way to hide a few extra pounds in a skintight leotard.

  As much as I hate to admit it, if the dinner Colton made tastes half as good as it smells, I’ll be going back for seconds. I haven’t had this dish since I left for London. As delicious as the food was across the pond—hello, fish and chips with malted vinegar—I missed a few favorites.

  This was definitely one of them.

  Colton keeps the conversation flowing, peppering me with questions about my study abroad program. As I finish off the salad, I lift my glass to take a sip and realize it’s empty. He quickly refills it without asking.

  While I silently debate a second glass, Colton brings out the main course along with a plate filled with buttery-looking garlic bread. This guy is really trying to kill me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that carbs and dancing don’t mix. Well, they do in that they give you energy which is needed to dance. But processed carbs are a big no-no. That being said, it doesn’t stop me from grabbing a slice oozing with butter and herbs and placing it on my plate along with the chicken dish he serves.

  I haven’t even taken a taste yet, and already my mouth is salivating.

  “Be honest, did you really cook all this?” I’m finding this scenario a little difficult to wrap my head around. The Colton I remember never went out of his way for a girl. The truth is that he didn’t need to impress the female sex, they chased after him regardless. All he had to do was sit back and soak up the adoration. And yeah, I was right there, in the thick of it, vying for his attention. Even when we dated sophomore year, girls continued to hang on him, propositioning him when my back was turned. And nothing has changed in that regard. So why is he bothering with this?

  Why is he bothering with me?

  “I did.” His gaze stays locked on mine from across the table as he takes a sip of his wine.

  Unable to hold the intensity of his gaze, mine drops to his lips as arousal explodes in my core where it settles uncomfortably. I shift on my chair, but it does nothing to alleviate the growing tension that simmers between us.

  “Lys.”

  I blink out of the daze and glance at him. What I find smoldering in his blue depths only adds to the growing tension brewing inside me. I’ve had too much wine and not enough food. That has to be the problem.

  As I reach for my fork, he extends his hand across the table, laying it over mine. Awareness crackles in the air between us. “I’m trying to be good here, but when you stare at me like that, it makes me think you want me as much as I want you. I’m trying to take this slow and prove that I’m not the same guy I was before.” He pauses. “But you’re making that difficult.”

  All of the saliva in my mouth dries. I tell myself to look away but can’t do it. Colton Montgomery is like the sun. And I find myself getting sucked into his gravitational force even though I’ve done everything in my power to avoid it.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asks. “Maybe a water?”

  “Yes, please.” My voice comes out sounding more like a croak.

  As soon as he disappears into the kitchen, I drag a hand over my face and order myself to pull it together. Barely do I get a chance to huff out a breath before he’s returning and handing over a bottle. With trembling fingers, I twist off the cap and guzzle down half of the cold liquid. It does nothing to alleviate the fire burning inside. Any moment, I’ll go up in flames, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  How can I put Colton in my rearview mirror and move on with my life when he’s doing everything possible to drag me back in again? This would be so much easier if he was the same jackass who broke up with me through text. He’s trying to chip away at the walls I’ve erected, and if I’m not careful, he’ll smash right through them.

  By the time I finish my chicken parmesan and set down my fork, I’m a jittery mess and sliding headfirst into a food coma. I need to get out of here before my resolve softens.

  “Thanks for dinner.” I wave a hand toward the table and my demolished plate. “This was amazing.” Who knew that Colton Montgomery actually had mad culinary skills? If the word got out, he’d be even more of a hot commodity than he already is.

  “Thank you for agreeing to come over.”

  I jerk my head into a nod and rise from my chair. “I, ah, should—”

  Go before anything regrettable happens.

  “Wait, I have dessert.” With stealth-like grace, he pops to his feet. One step is all it takes to close the distance between us.

  I shake my head, tempted to make a mad dash for the door. “I couldn’t possibly eat anything more. I’m stuffed.”

  “Fair enough.” His fingers swallow mine up as he takes my hand. “How about we watch a movie, and then we can have dessert in a little bit?”

  No way. That’s a terrible idea.

  He sweetens the deal by adding, “I’ll even let you pick out the movie.”

  Say what now?

  I hate to admit just how tempting the offer is. When we were together, I had to practically force Colton to sit through a rom-com or anything sappy.

  With narrowed eyes, I can’t resist testing the waters. “Amy Schumer has a new comedy out.”

  His jaw ticks as he sucks in a sharp breath before steadily releasing it back into the world. “Amy Schumer?”

  My lips tremble at the corners. “That’s right. I remember how much you enjoy her as an actress.”

  Even though he remains silent, I can tell that he’s tempted to argue the point. With any luck, he’ll turn me down flat, and I can scamper back to my place.

  “Okay,” he says with a shrug. “We’ll watch it.”

  Well, damn.

  I glance at the couch and realize I’ve made a tactical error in judgment. Unfortunately, it’s much too late to back out now. Plus, I’ve really wanted to watch this movie and haven’t had the time. School and dance have kept me busy, which is good. Less time to dwell on Colton. I almost wince at that unchecked thought as it pops into my head.

  Reluctantly, I grab my bottle of water and beeline to the overstuffed chair in the corner, while Colton runs the plates to the kitchen. This seems like the safest option. I’ll be an island onto myself. As I nestle into the chair, I’m actually feeling fairly proud of my strategic maneuvering. I’ve beaten him at his own game, and I get to watch a movie I’m interested in. Seems like a win-win to me. I keep my face carefully blank as he saunters into the living room. He’ll be forced to sit on the couch all by his lonesome. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting that.

  Ha!

  I’m tempted to crow—checkmate but keep my giddiness contained.

  Instead of heading to the couch like I expect, Colton stops in front of me. I’m about to ask what he’s doing when he leans down, slides his arms around my body, and scoops me up in one smooth movement. A yelp of surprise escapes from me as he settles on the chair before repositioning me so that I’m snuggled against him.

  This is definitely not what I had in mind.

  “Good choice.” Humor simmers in his deep voice as he grabs the remote off of the small table beside him. Unsure what to do, I remain stiff as he cues up the movie.

  And here I’d thought I had outwitted h
im. Turns out he’s the one who outmaneuvered me.

  “Relax,” he whispers as the opening credits flash across the screen.

  That’s easier said than done.

  How can I loosen up when his hard body is stretched out beneath mine?

  Even though I keep my gaze trained on the television and attempt to focus on the movie, it’s impossible. Unable to sit still, I squirm until his hands settle on my shoulders, gently pulling me toward his chest. His legs are stretched out in front of him as mine hang off the side of the chair. The position is entirely too comfortable and, after a while, my muscles turn slack as my head nestles against the hollow of his neck. The woodsy scent of his cologne inundates my senses, lulling me into a strangely contented state.

  A sigh of contentment escapes from me as Colton absently strokes his fingers through my hair. Only now do I realize how much I’ve missed these quiet moments. There were a ton of parties, but it was the nights we spent shuttered away from everyone that were my favorite because I had Colton all to myself. It wasn’t necessary for me to share him with his teammates, friends, or other girls. He was all mine.

  Midway through the movie, I realize that I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I’m not even sure what the plot is. The only thing I’m capable of focusing on is the way his fingers stroke over me. I’m so tempted to purr and stretch like a cat basking under the warmth of the sun.

  Every caress fuels the flame of desire he has carefully kindled to life deep in my core. I have to fight the temptation to turn in his arms and straddle him. I want to pepper kisses along his shadowed jawline. I want to nip his earlobe between my teeth. Part of me wants to sink to my knees and take him in my—

  Crap.

  As those sneaky thoughts invade my brain like a swarm of locusts, I jolt to awareness before scrambling off his lap. “I need to go.” The words come out sounding ridiculously breathy as need bubbles up inside me.

  Unaware of the dirty thoughts running rampant through my brain, his brows jerk together as he points to the television. “But the movie isn’t over yet.”