Trouble (Bad Boy Homecoming Book 2)

by Avery Flynn

  She sat up, watching him as he stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. "Why do you always want to tie me up?"

  "Because nobody runs like you do." It was true. For as much as he always seemed to be standing still and doing the expected, Leah was constantly moving and surprising everyone in Catfish Creek. "You run even when you're standing still. Always on guard. Always primed for a getaway. You've been like that since you were six and spent almost every afternoon at my house playing with Jessica."

  Something bittersweet flashed across her face at the mention of his sister's name. "Those days are long gone."

  "And thank God for it, because you were an even more stubborn brat then."

  She grinned up at him, all sass and sexiness. "Spoken like a man who's not getting laid tonight."

  "Sweets." He popped open the button of his jeans and kept his gaze on her hungry face as he slowly lowered the zipper. "We both know that's a lie."

  He wouldn't say his ego was small to begin with, but it definitely got a might bigger as she watched him strip. Of course, he played it up a bit, taking his time getting his jeans off and then toying with his boxer briefs before dropping them. She was sitting on her heels at the edge of the bed by the end, sucking that full bottom lip of hers into her mouth, her eyes dark with lust.

  "No more cuffs unless I'm locking you up," she said.

  He barked out a laugh at that idea. "That's not gonna happen."

  One side of her mouth went up, mocking him. "Chicken?"

  No. Worse. "I've jerked off too many times remembering the feel of your skin and knowing I'd never get the chance to touch you again to ever give up the opportunity to have my hands on you."

  "Show me."

  Oh, hell yes, he was going to show her exactly all the ways he wanted to touch her. He took a step toward the bed.

  She held up a hand, stopping him. "No. Show me how you jerked off to me. I want to watch."

  "Does that get you hot, the idea of watching me stroke this big cock?" he asked, wrapping his fingers around himself and bringing them up and down slowly.

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded, her gaze locked on his hand around his dick. Fucking A. There was no way he could say no to her when she looked at him like that.

  Leah

  She was going to come again just from watching Drew touch himself. Hot didn't begin to cover it. Molten. Face of the sun. Texas in August record-setting heat wave. It was that fucking hot. She was tempted to get down on her knees in front of him, but there was no way she'd be able to stop herself from joining in on the fun and she wanted to torture him a little like he'd done to her in the hall.

  "Where are you when you stroke your cock thinking about me?" she asked.

  "Bed. Shower. Kitchen." Slow and steady his hand stroked up and down his shaft. "On my fucking couch when some actress on TV reminds me of you. Once at work."

  Her core clenched at the idea, the taboo of it making her wet enough that she could feel it on her thighs. "What got you that time?"

  "It was right after Karly started organizing the reunion. Everyone was talking about it. I couldn't get you out of my head. I kept thinking about that night we fucked behind the stadium. It was so hot that no one was out but us. You were naked and on your knees in front of me, my cock filling up your mouth." He stroked his cock hard right up to the head, milking out some pre-come and scooping it up on one finger, holding it out for her.

  She didn't hesitate, she opened her mouth and licked the salty liquid off, managing somehow not to jump him right then and there. "I remember that. I won that bet."

  "Nah." He went back to rubbing his dick. "You lost, that's why you were naked and on your knees."

  Men were so slow sometimes. "That's what you think."

  "Fuck," he groaned and cupped his balls with his free hand. "That makes it even hotter. Just that image of you looking up at me, your lips were bright red and that sound you made every time my dick hit the back of your throat. Damn. It had me so hard I could barely fucking walk to the officer's locker room to take care of things."

  Dying to touch him, but refusing to let herself, she fisted the sheets in her hands. "And you did?"

  "Fuck yes. I was so close that I stood up in one of the changing stalls with one hand pressed against the cinderblock wall and the other wrapped around my prick." He threw back his head, tension cording his neck. "Three strokes and I was spraying that wall and swallowing every sound I wanted to make at that moment."

  "What sound did you want to make?" Her body ached for him—all of him, filling her up until there was only them. Somehow, this had turned from tormenting him a little to outright torture for her.

  "A groan. A yell. Your name."

  She couldn't look away from his hand speeding up and down his swollen cock. "You're close now, aren't you?"

  "Fuck yes." The words were as rough, hard, and desperate as the look in his eyes.

  God, this man. Even like this, there was something so commanding about him that made her want him in ways she hadn't ever wanted anyone else. Without thinking, she leaned forward and cupped her boobs. "I want it right here."

  His hand sped up. "You wanna be marked."

  By him? Yes. "I want to be sticky with you and then I'm gonna rub it into my skin while you watch."

  "Fuck, Leah," he yelled as he came, spraying her breasts with his hot release.

  True to her word--and loving that bit of something extra that he always brought out in her—she rubbed it into her skin as he watched, his eyes almost black with desire and his chest heaving for breath.

  Drew

  If he didn't walk away now, Drew was going to die a miserable, horrible death alone because she was going to ruin him for anyone else. This woman wasn't just trouble. She was a certifiable menace.

  And she's in your bed.

  Naked.

  Slick.

  Beautiful.

  Ready for more.

  "Damn, Sweets." If it came out like a man who'd had a prayer answered, well, he couldn't be held accountable for that right now. Not with her.

  One eyebrow went up. "You say that like a man who'd rather be somewhere else."

  "Not on your life."

  Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned down and kissed her, exploring and tasting every bit of her—or at least as much as he could tonight. He came down on the bed beside her, drawing her in against him. Her soft curves always fit so perfectly against him. Hands and mouths were everywhere as they each laid claim to the other one last time. He couldn't get enough of her. Neither could his dick because he was already hard again.

  "What are you, secretly seventeen?" she asked, circling his cock with her fingers and squeezing him tight.

  "Around you? It seems like it."

  Reaching across her, he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, took out a condom and then rolled it on. Looking down at her as she lay on her back spread out before him, his breath caught. Damn. If this was what trouble looked like, felt like, then maybe he did need a little more of it in his life.

  "It's always like this with you, Sweets."

  "Ditto," she said with a shy smile before pushing him down to his back and straddling him. "Now fuck me."

  When she lowered herself onto his rigid cock, he could have died a happy man. Her warmth tightened around him and desire tightened his balls. Pleasure rippled outward from where they joined. He clapped his hands down on her round hips and yanked her down harder as she rocked her hips forward and back. Small whimpers escaped her lips as she increased the pace, riding him hard and fast in smooth, deep strokes. It was good. Really fucking good. But he needed more. Now.

  He rolled them both so she was on her back and thrust deep into her hot, tight pussy. His eyes rolled back with pleasure as pressure began building in his spine. Her hips met his every thrust, words made incoherent by lust escaping her lips.

  "Leah." Her name came out in a strangled groan. He couldn't hold on much longer.

  She undulated against
him and squeezed, her whole body tensed as she came around his dick with a cry. His balls tightened and he buried himself to the hilt and came so hard his vision went black and if he never got it back it would be worth it.

  Chest heaving, he rolled onto his back and got rid of the condom, dropping it in the trashcan near his bed. Then he reached out, wrapped a hand around Leah's waist and pulled her close. Every bone in his body had been replaced with Jell-O laced with some sort of sleeping pill. He was going down. Hard. But a sharp elbow to the ribs kept him from drifting into the sweet hereafter.

  "Hope you don't think you're staying here," Leah said, all the sex kitten gone from her voice.

  He tried to untangle that statement and came up blank. "What?"

  She rolled over to face him, her still kiss-swollen lips drawn tight. "That didn't change anything. I still hate you."

  Drew glanced down at her naked body, lingering on her tits that still bore the tell-tale signs of him. "But you want me."

  She let out a huff and shrugged. "Seems to be my cross to bear."

  This woman made no sense. None. They'd just had mind-blowing sex and she was kicking him out of bed? Out of his own bed? Whatever he'd been thinking during the deed, he needed to block that shit out because Leah Camacho was exactly the same as she'd always been.

  "You're as mean as a snake-bit cat in a room full of rocking chairs." Still, because he'd been raised right, even if it did piss him off sometimes, he got out of bed and gave the space to his houseguest.

  She smiled up at him, obviously not giving a shit. "And I own it."

  He grabbed a pair of sweats from a drawer and yanked them on. "Sweets, you're gonna have to learn one of these days that there's nothing wrong with being a little soft around the edges."

  "Sure there is. That's exactly how you get hurt, which I don't plan on being again—especially not by someone with the last name Jackson."

  The soft tremble to her voice, despite the hard look in her eye and her do-not-fuck-with-me body language, hit him like a punch to the gut. Leah and his little sister Jess had been best friends growing up but something had changed all that. He didn't know what, but it had obviously messed with both of them. The realization took some of the edge off his own frustration as he started out the door.

  He stopped in the doorway. "People can change, you know. You gotta learn to trust that." Maybe even him.

  Whatever reaction he'd been hoping for—and he wasn't even sure himself—he didn't get it. Instead, Leah harrumphed and rolled over so she faced away from him.

  Shaking his head, he walked out into the hall, grabbed a blanket from the hall closet where his cuffs still hung, and made up the couch in the living room unable to get the idea of change out of his head. People did change. But him? He was still in the same place he was last time Leah was in town, dealing with overbearing parental expectations of what he should be doing and waiting for a phone call with a job offer out of town. It was like his life was stuck on a loop with Leah being the one who always seemed to knock him out of it.

  5

  Leah

  Thank God the coffee pods were right by the Keurig because, if not, she might have staged a one-woman riot in the middle of Drew's kitchen. She'd brass balled her way into having the bed to herself last night, but that didn't mean he hadn't been there anyway. He'd invaded her dreams to the point that she'd woken up this morning with her arms wrapped around his pillow and her nose buried in it as she inhaled the amber, musky scent of him that clung to it. That meant she was pissed off and horny at the same time—both of which were all too familiar when it came to being near Drew.

  After half a cup of straight black goodness was warming her belly, she felt human enough to make the call. The contact list on her phone listed the number as being for Isaac, but her big brother wasn't the person she wanted to talk to. She hit dial.

  "B-Squad Investigations and Security," a woman answered, her familiar voice as crisp, efficient, and borderline bitchy as the woman herself. She and Leah were like peas in a pod that way.

  "Hey, Tamara." She sat down at the table and took another sip of coffee.

  "Leah, is everything okay? Isaac just left on a job but I can patch him in." His brother's fiancée immediately ready to burst into action after Isaac had no doubt brought her up to speed on the craziness going on in Catfish Creek.

  "Nope." She shook her head as if Tamara could see. "I was looking for Lexie."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Tamara, I know you love my brother and even if you didn't, you know he's got a way of crowbarring the truth out of people." And she didn't want the favor she was about to ask Lexie repeated to her big brother.

  "Don't I know it," Tamara said with a chuckle.

  "So it's better if you don't know the answer to why."

  There was a pause long enough for her to look around Drew's sunny kitchen and realize that, like his office, it was completely bare of anything personal, as if he'd never unpacked when he'd moved in.

  Tamara sighed. "Secrets are not the basis of a strong relationship."

  "Are you telling me you two have always told each other everything?" The silence on the other end of the phone was telling. "It's not like I'm hiding a sixteen year old."

  "That was just the once and I had a good reason."

  Yeah, like the girl's megalomaniacal cult leader father who was dead set on forcing the girl to marry one of his middle-aged followers. "No argument."

  "Fine," Tamara said with a huff, finally giving in. "Hold on."

  B-Squad didn't have on hold music. It was just a series of rhythmic beeps. She'd counted fourteen beeps when Lexie, the resident computer guru and cat aficionado, picked up.

  "Leah, what kind of trouble are you causing now?" Lexie asked, as always more than ready to hear the latest bit of gossipy crazy.

  "What makes you think I'm causing trouble, Lexie?"

  "Because I know you and your brother," Lexie said, the sound of her fingers click-clacking across the keyboard coming in loud and clear over the line. "If trouble isn't everyone in your family's middle name then I don't have a slight cat obsession."

  "You're calling an entire wardrobe of cat T-shirts and enough kitty figurines to make a certified cat lady think you had a problem as slight?"

  "I'm quirky," Lexie said. "So sue me."

  "I'd rather put you to work."

  "What've you got?" she asked, going straight into all-business mode.

  "Two dirt bags, Hank Wynn and Markus Miller. They're involved in some kind of diamond theft ring. I want to know everything about them and anything about who's in charge of the crew."

  "Doesn't sound like idle curiosity to me. You need me to come down and bring some of the B-Squad toys?"

  Leah wasn't sure whether to be thankful or annoyed that her brother's B-Squad crew had adopted her as one of their own. For a girl with trust issues, it took a little getting used to.

  "Nah, between the Feds and one big-dicked sheriff I have enough babysitters already."

  "Big dicked as in has a big dick or acts like one?"

  Leah thought about it as she took another sip of coffee. "Both."

  Lexie laughed. "I want details the next time I'm in Denver or you're in Fort Worth, whichever happens first."

  "Deal. I need any info you can find on Wynn and Miller fast and quiet."

  "No big brother heads up, huh?"

  "There's a new cat T-shirt in it for you."

  Lexie snorted. "You really think there's one I don't have?"

  "You have a Captain Ameri-cat one?" Leah asked, picturing the one she'd seen in a random email that had landed in her inbox. "It's a cat in a Captain America suit saying he fights crime one evil hairball at a time."

  "I'll have everything including their favorite color of underwear by breakfast."

  Leah smiled. "You're the best, Lexie."

  "Don't you know it."

  She hung up and downed the last third of her coffee. If there was anyone who could make that promise
and keep it, it was Lexie. Not for the first time she wondered what the story was behind the cat-obsessed computer genius, but shoved it aside. She had to deal with the here and now before delving into any other mysteries. The sound of a man clearing his throat behind her made her jump out of her seat.

  Drew stood in the kitchen doorway wearing a scowl and a very tiny blue towel slung low across his hips. Water droplets clung to his chest and she watched, unable to look away, as one drop made the downward trek across his hard abs to disappear behind the towel. It was enough to make her brain short out.

  "What in the hell was that?" Drew asked, stalking toward her.

  She swallowed past the sand pit in her mouth and—out of a sense of primal survival desperation—moved so the small, round kitchen table was between them. It wasn't that she was afraid of him. More like she was afraid of what she wanted to do when she was near him—every dirty thing she could possibly imagine.

  "I'm moving things ahead."

  He glanced down at the table and back up at her with a knowing smirk. "And how were you doing that?"

  Her cheeks burned. Damn it. Why was it always like this with him? Taking a deep breath, she clicked together her bad attitude, using it as a shield against his cocky charms. "I called in a favor to get more information about the Rhinestone Cowboys."

  He spread his legs wide and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "You don't need to know more."

  His stance couldn't have screamed "I strong man, you weak woman" any more if he tried.

  This wasn't how she worked. Drew, of all people, should know that. She wasn't about to entrust her life to some random FBI agents who were more concerned with catching the man in charge rather than keeping her safe. And Drew? She might be physically safe with him, but emotionally was a whole other story. The best way to save herself was to get this whole cat and mouse game over with as quickly as possible, so that was exactly what she was going to do.

  "I'm not going to sit around Catfish Creek and wait for those two goons to make their move."

  "That's the stupid plan the Feds came up with and you agreed to." He shoved his hand through his wet hair, making it stand up as he rounded the table to her side.