Good Girl Next Door: A Steamy Small-Town Romance (Jetty Beach Book 6)

by Claire Kingsley

  That was shitty.

  I go inside long enough to say goodbye to the guys. I don’t tell them I made a jackass out of myself in the parking lot—just that I’m beat and ready to call it a night.

  When I get home, I head straight for Becca’s door, knowing full well it makes me a glutton for punishment. But I don’t want her to be mad at me. I was only trying to look out for her.

  Friends can do that, right?

  She opens the door and rolls her eyes. “Really?”

  “Can I come in?”

  She turns and walks inside, leaving the door open. I follow.

  “Becca, I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” I say. “I was just checking up on you.”

  She whirls on me. “That’s the problem. I didn’t need you to check up on me. I’m a grown woman, Lucas. If I want to talk to a guy at a bar, I’m more than entitled.”

  “Of course you are,” I say. “That’s not the point.”

  “Oh, it isn’t?” she asks. “Then why were you glaring at him the entire time he was at my table?”

  “I wasn’t glaring.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “No? Then you must have had the… shittiest beer ever to make you scowl like that. And what was with following me outside?”

  “I just wanted to make sure—”

  “You thought I was going to leave with him, didn’t you?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but I’m pretty sure everything I say from this point forward is only going to dig me into a deeper hole.

  “Seriously?” she asks. “First, I have better taste than that. Second, if I did leave with him, it’s none of your business. And third, well, I have better taste than that.”

  “I just wanted to be sure you were all right.”

  “Damn it, Lucas,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “I have enough people who think they always have to look out for me. I’m surprised my dad hasn’t suggested I install a home surveillance system yet. And Juliet basically chased that guy away from our table, like I couldn’t handle it. Granted, I wasn’t interested, but it would be nice if everyone wouldn’t assume I’m too helpless to take care of myself.”

  My shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Becca. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  I look down. I can’t tell her the truth—that seeing that guy talk to her made me jealous as fuck. That’s idiotic. Becca isn’t my girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  She takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. I know you were just trying to be nice. I’m just so tired of people stepping in to rescue me.”

  One corner of my mouth turns up in a grin. “Even from spiders?”

  That gets a smile out of her. “That’s different. I asked for your help.”

  “You’re right, that’s different.” I step closer and hold out my arms. “I’m sorry about tonight. That was uncalled for. Forgive me?”

  She gives me a shy glance and moves forward. “Yeah.”

  I wrap my arms around her and press her close, while she puts her arms around me. Oh, holy shit, this was a bad idea. Her floral scent fills me and her warm body feels amazing next to mine. I hold her for a few seconds longer than a friend hug, but I can’t make myself let go.

  I drop my arms and step back before I do something I shouldn’t. “Well, as long as we’re good, I should get home.”

  “Yeah, we’re good.” She sounds a little breathless.

  “Night, Becca.”

  I leave her standing in the middle of her apartment. Every bit of me wants to turn around and kiss the fuck out of her.

  But I can’t.

  12

  12: Becca

  Lucas appears at my back door, smiling at me through the glass. Whenever he does that, I’m hit with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Sometimes it means he has another one of his ideas. But a lot of the time, the two of us just hang out—nothing scary or naughty involved.

  It hasn’t escaped my notice that I spend a lot of time with Lucas. Most of my free time, in fact. I see him way more than Juliet, and she doesn’t live all that far away.

  But he lives next door, so it’s easy. I like living alone, but I do get lonely. It’s fun to have a friend close by. And I always cook too much, so why not share it with him? He certainly appreciates it.

  Brandon never did.

  Lucas’s wide smile pushes thoughts of Brandon out of my mind in an instant.

  “Hey, darling,” he says when I open the door.

  I smile at him. I don’t know why he calls me darling, but I love it. I hope he never stops. “Hey. What’s up?”

  He comes in and sits down on the couch, putting one arm over the back cushions. “Nothing. You?”

  I slowly lower myself down, but stay on the edge. He’s up to something. I’m sure of it. “What are you doing?”

  “What?” he asks, looking around with feigned innocence.

  “I know that look.”

  He grins. “I have an idea.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “Naughty side, right?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I feel like anything I say right now is going to get me in trouble.”

  “Have you ever watched porn?”

  “Oh, god.” I feel like this is a pattern with us. He comes in, suggests something I’ve never done, and am probably terrified of doing. I tell him all the reasons I can’t. He doesn’t listen and keeps pushing until I agree. Maybe this time I should just skip the middle part and go with it. After all, it isn’t like he’s going to let me out of this.

  “Fine,” I say. “Let’s watch porn.”

  He blinks at me with a look of surprise. “Really? Just like that?”

  “Are you going to let me out of it if I say no?”

  “No.”

  I shrug. “Then let’s get this over with.”

  He laughs. “This is progress. A month ago, you would have argued with me for ten minutes.”

  I guess he’s right. Maybe this is progress. I bite my lower lip, hesitating before I say it. “Well, just fuck it, I guess.”

  “Literally,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “And that was awesome. Let’s go over to my place though.”

  “Why? Do you have a collection?”

  He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “What do you think?”

  “Gross, Lucas.”

  He laughs. “No, but I don’t think you need to watch an entire shitty porn flick to get the experience. We can just find something online, and all you have is your little laptop.”

  “Fine. Should I bring snacks?”

  He looks at me for a second with a slightly open mouth. “You know what, why not? I guess we can eat popcorn while we watch people fucking.”

  I groan and put a hand over my eyes. “Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

  “Because it’s fun.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “Fun?”

  He grins at me again. “It’s fun for me.”

  We go out the back door and over to his place. He grabs a dining chair and moves it to his office area.

  “You can have my chair,” he says. “It’s more comfortable.”

  I settle into his office chair, tucking my legs beneath me, and open the bag of popcorn.

  “So, be honest,” he says. “Have you ever watched porn?”

  “No, I never have.”

  “Perfect.” He starts typing. “We’ll watch something really mild, okay? Nothing too kinky. In fact, let’s go for cheesy.” He scrolls through some things, and seems to find what he’s looking for. “Oh yeah, this should be awful.”

  “Awful?”

  “Yep, and I think it’s short, so if you really hate it, it will be over quickly.”

  He brings up something on one of the screens, clicks play, and sits in the other chair. The credits begin, and it looks like the lowest of low budget movies ever made. It starts and we both laugh. The acting is terrible, but I
guess that isn’t the point.

  “Do men actually find those enormous fake boobs attractive?” I ask.

  “I guess,” Lucas says. “It’s not my thing, though.”

  I reach over and poke him. “Yeah, right. You’re probably so turned on by her.”

  “Not so much,” he says. “Oh wait, now it’s going to get good. The copy machine repair guy showed up.”

  There’s some more dialog, but mostly they just start taking their clothes off.

  “Is that thing real?” I ask when the guy gets naked. His dick is huge.

  “Yeah, probably,” Lucas says.

  “God, it’s terrifying. I wouldn’t let that guy anywhere near me.”

  Lucas laughs. “Come on, I thought women want dudes with huge dongs.”

  “Not that huge.”

  The couple start to go at it, and I hate to admit, but there’s a little something about it that’s arousing. Mostly it’s ridiculous and kind of gross. But I’m feeling a little warm.

  Okay, the truth is, it isn’t the movie that’s turning me on. I glance at Lucas from the corner of my eye. The lines of his face are illuminated by the glow of the screen. Watching this with Lucas is kind of a turn on. I shift in my chair and swallow hard, trying to ignore the tingly feeling between my legs.

  It goes on for a while. They stop at one point, and I think maybe it’s over, but after a few badly delivered lines of dialog, they start up again.

  Another actor shows up on screen. I think he’s supposed to be shocked, but he’s taking his clothes off pretty fast, so I don’t really get who he is or if there’s a point to him being there.

  “Uh-oh,” Lucas says.

  “What? Is that guy going to—”

  The first guy gets the woman on her knees and starts ramming into her from behind, while the other stands in front of her and she puts his dick in her mouth.

  “Ew,” I say.

  “Yeah, this is too much dick for me,” Lucas says with a laugh. He hits stop and it freezes with the actress in a very unfortunate position. He closes the window quickly.

  “So, is that it?” I ask.

  “Why, do you want to watch more?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m just wondering if it’s over. I feel like I need a shower.”

  Lucas laughs. “I think we’re good. You watched porn. Do you feel naughty now?”

  The way he says that, with one eyebrow raised and that smirk on his face, turns me on a hundred times more than watching people have sex on his computer screen.

  I look away, hoping I’m not turning red. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Because if that was too tame, I can find something else—”

  “No! I think I can cross porn off the list. I watched, and I didn’t even close my eyes.”

  “That’s true. I’m proud of you, darling.” He gets up and goes into the kitchen. “You know, I think you’re getting better at this stuff. You might be close to being end-of-Grease Sandy.”

  It shouldn’t be disappointing to hear him say that, but it is. What happens when our little game is over? Will he still want to hang out with me all the time?

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual. “I don’t have the big hair yet, so…”

  “True,” he says. “Want a beer?”

  “Sure.”

  I get up and we both move to his couch. We drink our beer and chat for a while. I try not to let my eyes drift down to his crotch, but I’m suddenly consumed with curiosity. What does he have under there? Does it look anything like the guy in the video?

  I hope not.

  Although, why do I hope anything when it comes to Lucas’s man parts?

  But I watch him as he sits, sipping his beer and talking with me, and the warm feeling in my core won’t go away. I try to think of something else—force myself to stop thinking about Lucas naked—but nothing works. The more I try not to think about what he would look like behind me, grabbing my hips and thrusting himself into me, the more I can’t get the picture out of my head.

  I think watching a twenty-minute porno broke something in my brain. I’ve never been this consumed with thoughts of sex before.

  I finish my beer and decide I need to get home. I say goodnight and go through the back door to my apartment.

  I close the curtain and fall onto my couch. What is wrong with me? There’s so much tension in my body. My pussy is literally throbbing.

  There is something I could do to take care of it.

  I glance around, feeling embarrassed already. But it’s dark outside, and my curtains are closed. I live alone. The walls are thin, but I can stop myself from making noise.

  And let’s be honest—it would feel so good.

  I take a deep breath and shift so I’m lying down on the couch. I slip my hand into my shorts and feel my panties.

  They’re soaked.

  I find my clit and start to rub slowly, thinking about Lucas. The lines of his face. The set of his jaw. Those eyes. His hair. And that body. Oh my god, what a body he has. I imagine what it would look like, braced on top of me. His muscles straining, flexing. A sheen of sweat on his chest.

  I bet Lucas is amazing in bed. He has the easy confidence of a man who knows what he’s doing. What would it feel like, to have his mouth on my skin? His hips driving into me?

  What would it feel like for Lucas to fuck me?

  Fuck me.

  Fuck.

  I’m saying it in my head, but I’m pretty sure that’s progress.

  I rub harder, finding that a quick circular motion works best. I breathe hard as the tension builds. Yep, this is what I needed. I let go of my inhibitions, bit by bit, as if I’m loosening a chain that I keep wound tightly around myself. I explore my most tender places, letting my fingers seek out my sensitive bundle of nerves. I keep my eyes closed and let the world fall away.

  Just a little more.

  Right.

  There.

  Bang, bang, bang. There’s a knock on my back door and I gasp, my eyes flying open.

  I take a couple of quick breaths and fix my clothes. Oh god, my fingers are wet with… well, I don’t want to think about what they’re wet with. My face is absolutely on fire.

  I run to the kitchen and wipe off my hand on a paper towel. Looking down, I make sure my shorts aren’t bunched up or anything, and smooth down my hair. I take a deep breath and open the door.

  Lucas is standing on the back step, holding out my phone. “Hey, Becca, you left your—”

  He stops mid-sentence, his eyes widening.

  He can tell.

  He knows.

  I swallow hard, but I can’t do anything except stare at him. I’m frozen in place, my feet rooted to the floor, my hand on the door handle.

  “Sorry,” he says, a grin stealing over his face. “Am I interrupting?”

  Oh god. I’m breathing too hard and I know my face is redder than Lucas’s shirt.

  “No,” I say, and my voice is too high pitched and breathy. “No, not at all.”

  “I, um…”

  Even in the midst of my utter mortification, it’s oddly satisfying to see Lucas a little frazzled. He’s not sure what to say. I wonder if he…

  Don’t look at his crotch, Becca. Don’t do it.

  I look.

  He’s hard.

  Oh god.

  I spring into motion, desperate to end this horrifying moment. I grab my phone out of his hand and start closing the door.

  “Thanks for bringing this back,” I say.

  Lucas puts his hand on the door, stopping me from closing it. “You sure you don’t need help with anything?”

  I freeze again. He did not just suggest what I think he suggested. I’m pretty sure my toes are blushing by now.

  I try to stammer out a reply. “No. I’m not… I wasn’t… I mean…” I shut the door in his face and the curtain falls, obscuring him from my view.

  I stand there for a long moment, horrified. That was so rude of me. But he knew what
I was doing. And he asked if I wanted help. I’m equal parts mortified and—dare I even admit—tempted.

  I go back to the couch and sink down. I’m so embarrassed, I want to die right here. My phone buzzes with a text, and I can hardly bring myself to look at it. Of course it’s from Lucas.

  Proud of you, darling.

  I cover my face, but I can’t lie—I’m smiling.

  I guess if I’m going to make him really proud, I should finish what I started.

  13

  13: Lucas

  I grab the coffees from the counter and bring them over to our table. Becca is occupied with something on her phone, but she sets it down when I slide her coffee toward her.

  “Thanks,” she says with a smile.

  The weather is colder than it’s been recently, and she’s wearing a light pink sweater over a white t-shirt, and jeans. She texted me this morning, saying she wanted to get out of the house, so we decided to go out for coffee.

  Her phone vibrates and she rolls her eyes.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  She checks her phone and sets it down again. “Yeah, it’s just my dad. He’s trying to convince me to move home.”

  I stare at her for a few seconds too long, but hearing her say that is strangely alarming. “Why?”

  She shrugs. “My parents didn’t want me to move out here in the first place. They’d prefer it if I lived close. Or at their house.”

  “They really are overprotective, aren’t they?” I ask.

  “You have no idea. It’s kind of silly. I guess it would be worse if they didn’t care about me, or were mean or something. But it drives me crazy. It’s like they don’t think I can handle anything on my own.” She pauses and looks down at the table. “I know why they’re like that, though.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a sister.”

  Normally, I’m kind of a clueless guy, but there’s no mistaking the grief in her voice. “Had?”

  “Yeah, her name was Alicia. She died when I was eight. She was ten.”

  “Oh, shit, Becca. I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “It was a car accident,” she says, her eyes still on the table. “My dad was taking her to a piano lesson. It wasn’t his fault, but I know he blames himself.”