Boy Next Door (Parkside Avenue Book #2) by Raquel Lyon Page A

plumped and puckered
all day every day. Starting now. What would she do if I tried, hit me, push me
away? Was it worth the risk? It might be.
    “Actually, I don’t remember our
kissing discussion. Fancy running it by me again?” I discarded the grass but
continued the stroking, drawing circles around her belly button.
    “I, um …” Her mouth stayed open
as her eyes closed. My touch had rendered her speechless. I saw my chance and
bent my head to her collarbone. When my lips made contact, I passed the point
of no return. The pounding in my chest refused to be ignored. Static charged
blood through my veins and my dick sprang into action. Down boy. Patience. A
moan shivered through Cora. It was all the encouragement I needed. I gripped
her waist and moved up her neck to nibble on her earlobe. She smelled of
vanilla and lilies; it was intoxicating, and my head whirled with her scent.
    She sucked in a breath, and her
hand gripped my arm, lifting it away as she pushed up to standing. “I have to
get back.”
    Damn the woman. What was it going
to take for her to let me in?
     

 
    Chapter Thirteen
     
    Kendrick stirred and winced, as I
entered his room, later that day. “Shit, my head’s banging. What happened?”
    “You tell me.”
    He pressed a hand over his face,
feeling the swelling. “My face is fucked.”
    “Tends to happen when you come in
contact with a fist or three. How do you feel?” I asked, opening the first-aid
kit. “Dizzy? Sick?”
    “Nope. Can’t feel anything
through this damn pain.” He groaned. “Do I still have all my bits?”
    “You might be missing a spot of
brain, but let’s face it, that’s not much of a loss. Your bits, you can check for
yourself.” Kendrick tried to laugh but it came out as a grimace, switching to a
growl, as I parted wedges of hair packed with congealed blood. “Did you see who
did you over?”
    “Nah, man. Got jumped from
behind. Whacked me with something hard. I thought my head was going to explode.”
His face repeatedly crumbled and his teeth ground together as he talked. “Next
thing I know, I’m on the ground, boots coming from all directions. How did you find
me?” he asked, watching me remove items from the first-aid box.
    “I didn’t.”
    “Then who?”
    “Liam.”
    He forced a grin. “Told you he
was a top mate.”
    “You might wanna rethink that. He
wasn’t too friendly this morning.”
    “He’s just wary of dudes he
doesn’t know.”
    I soaked a cloth with antiseptic
and cleaned his wounds for the second time in a day. “Hostile was more the word
I had in mind, and he said to say the job’s off.”
    “Really? Crap. I was counting on
that.” He swatted at my hand. “Jesus, is that acid?”
    “Shut up and hold still.”
    “Did he say why?”
    “He didn’t stop to chat.”
    “Man, I needed that money.”
    “Then get a proper job.”
    “Get serious.”
    With the cuts more exposed, I was
thankful they appeared less severe than at first thought. He should be able to
get by without stitches, if I held the skin together with sticking plasters,
but it would probably leave a scar, in any case. The swellings covering his
face were worse. I had to remember what he looked like to know my brother was
hiding beneath them. “Why are you so desperate for cash?” I asked.
    “I wanna do something.”
    “Such as?”
    “You wouldn’t like it.”
    “Then you’d better not do it,” I
said, smearing cream over the worst scrapes.
    “You’re not my dad.”
    “If I have no say, why bother
with the secrecy? Unless you give a shit what I think.”
    “I wanna get some wheels, all
right?”
    “Can you even drive?” I handed
him a couple of painkillers and he shot them back.
    “Course.”
    “You have a licence?”
    “Well, no. But I will. Soon.
That’s why I need the cash.”
    Kendrick wanting a car was no
surprise. I’d expected it. He’d have all the money he needed when he hit
twenty-one and came into his share of Mum’s life