Page 17 of Sexy Bad Neighbor

My knees almost buckle. Is he serious? Yet I’m thinking about it. There are so many reasons not to, and only one reason why it makes sense: Because my vibrator is not going to cut it tonight, not knowing this utterly kissable man is sleeping only a short distance away. To hell with being just neighbors. I want to be sexy, bad neighbors.

“That’s some birthday kiss.” Ronnie’s voice penetrates my brain. We are not alone. I’m supposed to be angry at him, not slurping at his face like he’s the tastiest damn hot fudge sundae.

I love fudge. But this cannot happen. I should still be upset about that prank. I need to tell him to stop—stop the pranks, stop the kisses, stop looking at me like he likes me, like he wants to get to know me, all of me, physically and emotionally. I don’t do emotions, not anymore. I do corporate ladder climbing.

I try to disentangle myself from his arms, but Paynter doesn’t seem to want me to go. “Come ‘eer,” he says, puckering up like he’s ready for round two.

“No. You—you—you set off fireworks on my beach!”

He drops his arms and blinks bemusedly for a few seconds before a laugh bursts from his lips. Those damn kissable lips.

“I didn’t set off fireworks—you did. I just buried them in the sand,” Paynter says, as if I’m supposed to find his sense of humor amusing. And maybe I might have—grudgingly—if Garrett didn’t add his two cents.

“Oh shit,” he says, laughing. “I forgot we did that earlier today.”

Clenching my fists, I glare at Paynter. “You had your brother help prank me?”

“That’s what you two were doing down at the beach?” Ronnie adds. At least I know she wasn’t in on it too.

“Hey, I had to get you back for the condom incident,” Paynter replies.

“The condom incident?” Garrett repeats, his eyebrows shooting so high they get lost in his hairline.

“Not what you think,” Paynter says without taking his gaze off me.

“Definitely not,” I add while staring him down. What am I doing? Daring him to make it what Garrett thinks? Am I crazy?

“But it could be,” Paynter says, apparently reading my mind.

“No, it can’t. I can’t.” This—this thing between us, whatever it is, is getting out of hand. I cannot let his siblings think there is anything going on between us. And despite the temptation his kisses create, despite my highly smutty thoughts constantly heading in that direction, there will not be anything, either. I have other priorities in my life right now, and I have every confidence that if I let him in any further, Paynter will ruin everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve had to re-work for after Marcus screwed me over and forced me to start a new climb up that corporate ladder at a different company.

Because Paynter is blocking an easy exit out the door onto the deck, I stride through his kitchen, heading toward the arched entry leading into the foyer.

“Sweetheart, where are you going?” he calls out. “My bedroom’s that way.” I glance over my shoulder and see him point at the staircase, that silly, drunken grin still on his face. Damn it, screw how adorable he looks like that.

I look to the heavens as if seeking divine intervention, only to find that horrible chandelier dripping from the ceiling, on proud display, mocking all the normal furniture in the house.

“Why on earth did you choose that chandelier?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

“Oh my God, isn’t it the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen?” his sister says, almost screeching the words.

I think I love her.

“Yes.” I may have said that word a bit emphatically, but the thing is atrocious. All long, lean lines of dripping crystals, shaped like a, well... It’s terribly phallic-looking, to say the least.

“I hate that chandelier,” Paynter says, and I drop my gaze and arch my eyebrows, asking without really asking. The previous owners had been hunters, and their chandelier had been made of dead deer antlers. This chandelier was added after he bought the house.

“He didn’t pick it out,” Garret supplies.

“Shut up, Garrett,” Paynter responds.

“What? You don’t want the next girlfriend to know what the last one was like?”

Uh-oh. I hear the strangest sound in my head, like a siren of some sort, warning me of something. The rocks, Edepis! Will Robinson, watch out!

“Yeah, I’m not his next girlfriend,” I try to say, but Paynter dives at Garrett and claps his hand over his brother’s mouth. I’m not sure what Garrett does, but I’m pretty sure it involves licking, because Paynter pulls his hand away and swipes it on his pant leg.

“Gross. You’re such a fucking adolescent,” he complains.

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