Page 50 of My Ruthless Neighbor

“I heard that.”

“Good.” I glare up at him. “Because you are—” My words are halted when it starts raining.

“Whoa. I gotta go.” I struggle against him.

He merely stares at me with controlled anger.

“Seriously? Brute much? I’m getting wet! I need to go get my umbrella.”

“You wanted a fucking shower.” He says and my mouth falls open.

“Oh.” I look around and notice that we’re standing under the shower head. “Shower time!” I reach behind my back, this time to unclasp my lace bra.

But Archer grabs my wrists and rests them on his chest. When I try to wrench them away, he tightens his grip. “Leave it on.”

“But I am gross.”

“Summer,” he bites out and I still.

“Jerk.” I glare at his chest. The water runs in rivulets down his body, making his t-shirt see-through.

Archer moves around, all while keeping me glued to his chest. He quickly washes me the best he can then carries me out and sets me on the bathroom counter.

He exits and quickly returns with a towel. Dries me at record speed and throws a tee in my lap. “Get dressed.”

I look at my pink flamingo-printed tee with concentration and then at him before nodding. I reach back but yelp when I slip off the counter.

He is there. Again. Exhaling a harsh breath, he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra in a second. Then he pulls the tee over my head, and tactfully slides the bra out of the way before pulling it down. All while looking away from me.

In the meantime, I ogle his wet body. “You are a jerk. But you are a hot jerk.”

He grunts and pulls me off the counter so he could reach inside and pull my panties down my legs. As he bends, I lose balance, so I grip his hair to avoid falling.

My hands fall limp at my sides when he gets to his feet and glares at me. His fingers find my hair as he tips my head up. “You are not drinking again. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m serious, Summer. You shouldn’t drink this much. It’s not safe.”

“Okay, Dad.” I giggle and he tightens his hold.

“I want to spank you until you feel my handprints for a fucking week. Not only were you reckless drinking like that, but you also put yourself at risk by provoking that tool earlier.”

“I didn’t—”

“I am not finished talking.” He grinds out. His other hand delves into my hair. “Instead of calling the cops, you decided to fight that man with your baseball bat. What are you? A superwoman?”

I squint at him.

“Answer me.”

I swallow then say, “I think I am gonna throw up again.”

As soon as I say it, he rushes me to the bowl.

My eyes fly open. What happens next becomes clear. After spending a long time holding me in the bathroom, he carried me to bed.

He left my apartment then. But was back after changing out of his wet clothes. Then proceeded to wipe the remnants of makeup off my face because the hasty shower couldn’t.

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