Savage: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Roman, it’s time for your nap, honey. Grab your dinosaur and let’s go.”

  Roman sulks, but is apparently well-trained, because he just gives me a longing look and trots off to find a little plastic dinosaur, which he clutches to his chest as he follows Julia to a back room. I’m left standing in the kitchen, wondering if she expected me to leave. If that’s what she’s hoping, she’s just going to have to be disappointed, because I’m not leaving unless she demands it.

  A minute later she’s back. “We need to talk quietly. He’s a light sleeper.”

  I nod. “He’s a great kid.”

  She smiles in a way that says she knows. “He’s the only thing that keeps me going.”

  I lean on the kitchen island, frowning at her. “What’s going on with you? Are you upset about what happened last night still?”

  “Sure, that’s on my list.”

  “Your list?”

  “Well,” she says, moving to sit at the kitchen table and counting each point off on her fingertips. “My boss is getting more and more out of control every day, the criminal who—” she catches herself, as if she was about to say something she didn’t mean to. “The criminal who walked into my life and left it in ruins comes back out of the blue and moves in next door, my mom’s medical bills.” She winces a little at the last, as if she didn’t mean to say it.

  What was she about to say before? The criminal who what? The question burns, but it’s a selfish one, so I set it aside for now. “Your boss? That asshole, Ted?”

  “Yes. Ted.”

  “You said he’s out of control? What do you mean?”

  “He is claiming he used my last paycheck to replace the chairs in the waiting room, and that he doesn’t have the money to pay me. Of course when I tried to fight it, he just threatened to turn me into the board and get my license revoked. Like always.”

  “Leave that to me,” I say. “I’ll set the fucker straight.”

  She shakes her head. “This isn’t a problem you can solve by brute force.”

  “You think brute force is the only thing I’m good at? You seemed pretty impressed with my finesse four years ago when my head was between your legs.”

  Her cheeks stain with red and she absently rubs her lip.

  “Like I said. Leave him to me. I’ll handle him.”

  She looks unconvinced, but still seems to be a little relieved at the prospect.

  “And if you need money for your mom, let me help.” Regardless of what she says, I make a vow to myself that her mother is going to be taken care of. I’ll find a way to help her.

  She fiddles with her fingers, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. I can handle my own problems without you. I’ve been doing it for four years now, and I’m still standing. Roman still has food on his plate every meal and and a warm place to sleep.”

  Something in the way she seems to always connect my leaving straight back to Roman and how she has managed to raise him on her own has my intuition prickling. Most women would be pissed at me for what I did, but I don’t hear her talking about some other guy at all, some mystery father who's not in the picture anymore. She only talks about me. I’ve suspected it since I saw Roman, but my suspicion is growing more and more into a certainty by the hour.

  “Where is the father?” I blurt the question out without thinking, but I don’t regret it. It needs to be asked. It should have been asked from the start. I need to know.

  She averts her eyes. “I don’t know if I can trust you with that yet.”

  “What, do you think I’m going to go kick his ass or something?”

  She glares at me. “Would you blame me for thinking that?”

  “I guess not. But you will have to tell me sooner or later.”

  “Just because you inserted yourself back into my life, it doesn’t mean I have to tell you anything.”

  I reel a little. She’s right, obviously. I keep forgetting that as far as she’s concerned, I spent the last four years fucking other women and barely thinking about her. If only she knew the truth. It’s frustrating as hell keeping it from her, but she has enough on her plate without knowing just how dangerous the people are who want to hurt her.

  “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one with an obligation to open up. We’ve been making it fine without you, and we’ll keep on being fine if you are gone.”

  “I’ve told you everything you need to know, and I’m not telling you more.”

  “Then maybe you should just leave.”

  It pisses me off. Even though I know from her perspective I must seem like I’m being dishonest, I wish she would just trust me, even a little. I step into the hallway, holding the door open for a moment. “I’ll stop by when you’ve cooled off.”

  I close the door just in time to dodge the flying toy car she hurls at me. I can’t help smirking a little. As much as she wants to deny it, as much as she tries to tell me no, I know with a bone-numbing certainty that she wants me in her life. She wants me as badly as I want her, but she’s just trying to do what’s right for her son by making me jump through hoops. It’s fine by me. I’ll keep jumping if she’s the prize at the end of the course.

  I tap on Jimmy Carmele’s window. He jolts upright, obviously dozing. He’s parked outside the apartment, and the fucker is supposed to be keeping an eye out for Morettis. It looks like the only thing he was keeping his eyes on was the inside of his eyelids.

  He rolls down the window and I lean forward slowly. I need to send a message to him. He needs to know that it’s his ass on the line if anything happens to Julia while he’s on watch. Luckily, I wield fear as easily as the .44 holstered at my hip. I don’t speak for a moment, letting his mind race over all the possible ways he could have pissed me off. It’s more effective that way. He’ll remember his fuck-ups a lot more clearly if he figures them out for himself instead of me spelling it out for him.

  His mouth opens like he’s about to speak, but he snaps it shut again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Right about now he’s wondering if I’m going to kill him. He knows my reputation, everyone does. He finally rubs the back of his neck, wincing. “Sorry, Leo. It won’t happen again.”

  “Yeah. It won’t. And you’re not getting paid for today.”

  I straighten, looking around the street and the crowded sidewalk. Any one of these guys could be working for the Morettis, trying to find the right opportunity to make a move against me, to hurt Julia. I almost wish they would just come out and try. Ever since those fuckers at the mini-golf place, I haven’t seen so much as a hint that they are still gunning for me. Now I have to make sure I stay hard, stay alert, and keep my ear to the ground. They may be biding their time for now, but I know it’s only a matter of time until they come after us, and I plan to be ready when they do.

  46

  Julia

  I unlock the door to my mom’s house and stare at the perfectly clean living room in confusion. What the… Roman runs ahead of me, yelling “Grannie!” I run a finger on the coffee table and look at my fingertip. No dust? What the hell?

  I normally spend at least an hour a week cleaning her place up when I bring Roman over on the weekends. It has been a week since I’ve been here, and she’s far too weak to clean. Who the hell was here? For some reason I’m pissed. I storm into my mom’s room to find her hugging Roman. Her hair is wispy on her mostly bald scalp and her eyes are tired but kind. She smiles lovingly at him, hugging him back with her frail arms. “My little Romeo,” she says into his hair. “I missed you.”

  “Mom,” I say. “Who was here?”

  Her brows pull together in confusion. “That handsome young man you sent. He came by yesterday.”

  I feel my heart racing. Handsome young man? “The one with tattoos?”

  She grins. “That’s the one. I didn’t mind watching him clean at all. And he was such a gentleman. Where did you find him?”

  On parole from a prison sentence. “What did he say to you?”

  “We talked about y
ou a lot, actually. You know he asked if you had a boyfriend, I think he might be interested, sweetie. I told him you were pining after the one who got away a few years back, which has kept you depressingly single. I suggested he fix that.” She winks. “You’re welcome.”

  “Mom!” I say, outraged. “You didn’t really say that did you? Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  Roman lets her go and runs off to find the cat. “C’mere kitty!” he shouts. “Meow!”

  My mom just gives me a small smile. “If you don’t take him, I will. He looked like a real catch.”

  “If you’re interested in criminals, maybe,” I say, sitting on the edge of her bed and feeling her forehead. “You’re freezing,” I mutter, reaching to grab more blankets for her.

  She lets me tuck her in tighter, watching me with those eyes of her that haven’t lost any of their mischief, despite years of fighting this fucking cancer. “Your father was a good man. The only law he ever broke was illegally parking on the Fourth of July every year. I swear that man would have rather given up a limb than sit a minute longer than he had to in traffic. I loved him more than anything, and he was great to you. But…” she says, smiling deviously. “If he had a wild side, I wouldn’t have complained either.”

  I can’t help but laugh a little. “Mom. You’re grossing me out. Please stop.”

  “I know I’m doing my job if I’m grossing you out.”

  I hear Mr. Paws give a death-curdling screech from the living room. Roman must have found him. Those two have been clashing ever since Roman could crawl. Roman loves the cat more than he loves me, and the cat just wants to be left alone.

  “You know I didn’t tell him to come see you, Mom. I didn’t even tell him you were sick. I have no idea how he found out or how he knew where to find you.”

  She raises her eyebrows and purses her lips. “So he’s resourceful, thoughtful, and passionate. You really had better make a move before I steal this one from you, Jules.”

  I look down, pulling at my fingers. “I was going to say he’s a stalker.”

  “Bullshit. The only difference between a man being labeled a stalker and a charmer is whether you want his attention.”

  “I don’t think that’s entirely true, Mom.”

  “Well, I must just be getting old and crazy, then, because I would be all over him like honey on ham.”

  I cover my face with my hands, laughing and falling over on her legs. “I really didn’t need that image.”

  I knock on Leo’s door once Roman has gone down for sleep later that night. I’m holding the baby monitor in my hand. It buzzes with white noise from the noise machine in Roman’s room and broadcasts an image of his little body curled up with his dinosaur and favorite blanket. Leo opens the door. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up casually and his buttons are undone scandalously low. I wish I could stop losing my breath every time I see him.

  “Hey,” I say, a little breathlessly.

  He leans against the doorframe, looking at me with undisguised surprise. “I didn’t expect you to stop by.”

  “Yeah, well, me neither,” I say, “But imagine my surprise when I found out the criminal next door was at my mom’s house today.”

  He nods. “I can see how that would be a surprise. I didn’t realize they let criminals live here. Should I be worried about this guy?”

  I smile a little. “I’m still trying to answer that question.”

  “Let me know when you do.”

  I glance into his still-bare apartment. “Are you ever going to decorate this place? Maybe get a bed?”

  “Please, come in,” he says, gesturing grandly. “It’s not much, but I actually got used to sparse living in prison. Having too much stuff around doesn’t feel right anymore.”

  “You should really get a bed, at least. I don’t like the idea of you sleeping on the floor.”

  He smirks knowingly. “I didn’t realize you’ve been over there thinking about me. Seems like you are really fixated on where I sleep.”

  I blush, but my embarrassment quickly turns to anger, as it always seems to around him. Just seeing him happy, cocky, and smiling is enough to piss me off. He gets to walk away for four years while I do the hard work and then thinks he can show up and reap the benefits? Fuck that. “Is it possible to have a real conversation with you where you don’t turn everything into innuendo?”

  That sobers him up. Good.

  “Sure. But I just want to make sure you understand a real conversation isn’t synonymous with an interrogation.”

  He has a way of annoying me by pointing out things I should’ve realized myself, but haven’t. “I realize that,” I snap. I just wanted to ask you a few dozen questions. It wouldn’t have been an official interrogation. ”But you also need to understand what’s at stake here. This isn’t like before. I can’t just open my heart to you on a whim.” I hold up the baby monitor and shake it toward him. “I have to think about my little guy, and what’s best for him.”

  He takes a step toward me and I suddenly realize how close we are. I can see each of his long eyelashes and deep into the dark pools of his eyes, tempting me to fall in. Stop it. Be an adult. Talk through this with some self-control before you start thinking about how gorgeous he is.

  “Is having a mother who’s sexually frustrated good for him?”

  “I’m not—” I say indignantly. Then I lower my voice. “I’m not…sexually frustrated.”

  “Then why is your heart racing right now? Why are your cheeks flushed? I bet your panties are already fucking soaked.”

  I slap him. The sound cracks out in the quiet apartment. He looks down, laughing quietly, ominously. “You shouldn’t do that.” The way he looks up at me with his chin tilted down is frightening to say the least, and I start to realize how dangerous it was for me to come here alone, at night without telling anyone where I would be. This man is a killer. I can’t just forget that. He may say he wants to protect me, but how do I know?

  “What are you going to do?” I wish my voice sounded stronger, less like a strangled whisper.

  “Whatever you want me to do,” he says huskily. His body is against mine, pinning me to the wall.

  Just one more time. Just this once. I need to get him out of my system. I need to let him take me again and use me how he wants. I need this. Once it’s behind me, I can start to look at the situation without the clouds of lust blinding me to the truth. Just this once. I carefully drop the baby monitor to the floor beside me.

  His hard cock presses into my stomach and I feel my pussy throbbing with need. Just the memory of what it was like to have him inside me is too much. I’m already tearing at his buttons, struggling to get his shirt off.

  “This doesn’t mean anything,” I gasp into his ear as I strip his shirt. “It’s just physical.”

  He kisses the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “If that’s the lie you need to tell yourself.”

  I glare over his shoulder as he lifts me so that his cock grinds into my waiting heat. I’m just wearing a simple pair of black yoga pants, and the thin material is barely a barrier between us. Being called out on my little lie pisses me off, but for some reason, it just makes me press my hips into him harder, squeezing tighter against the muscles on his back and shoulders. The driving force behind my passion is anger. Anger at him, anger at where I am in life, and anger at the unfairness of it all. I just want a release, and part of me even feels guilty using him for such an impersonal purpose. Even he sees through my lies, though. I want this as much, if not more than he does, and it’s not just about the anger. It’s about the years I’ve spent craving this exact moment, even if I thought my mind would be in a more secure place when it happened.

  He rips my shirt over my head and my breasts bounce down, still held by my bra. He squeezes my tits hard enough to hurt a little, but then the warmth of his mouth on my nipples soothes away the pain as he skillfully unhooks my bra with one hand and frees my tits. The air is col
d on my already hardened nipples, and it’s not long before the warmth of his mouth is on them. I arch my head back, reeling as the shockwaves of pleasure fire through my body, igniting every nerve from my fingertips to my core.

  I squeeze the back of his head, pressing him into me, unable to get enough. I want him so bad it hurts. He pulls back so that my feet fall to the floor and yanks my pants down in one swift motion so that I’m only in the pink lace panties I wore, guilty conscious of the possibility that he might see my underwear. He steps back and admires me, pacing before me, shirtless and clad only in his slacks. His hard, powerful body is a masterpiece, and my eyes can’t decide if they want to drink in the curves and cuts of his muscular frame, or the perfect lines of his face and the smooth swell of his lips. He looks at me like his property, like he’s deciding what to do with me, and I’m surprised to find that I want nothing more than to be used by him however he likes.

  Just for a little while I can let go. Just one last time, I can forget my problems and let his touch burn them away.

  He flicks the buckle of his belt free and unbuttons his slacks, letting them hang loose, giving me a tantalizing peak of his lower stomach. I reach to touch him, but he takes my hands, pinning them above my head. I struggle a little against him and he presses back, eyes full of fire. “My way,” he growls. “We’re doing this my way.”

  His voice gives me chills. I press the back of my head against the wall, letting him pin me there, waiting to see what he wants to do with me. He takes his time looking at my body, eyes lingering on my lips, neck, tits, and panties. He reaches down, grabbing my panties with a tug he tears them off me. I quiver, surprised by how much it’s turning me on to be used like this. It’s all I can do not to throw my legs around him now and grind myself into him hungrily, but the smoldering intensity in his eyes makes me afraid to disobey, so I wait.