Page 68 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

Soft spot? For him? He wishes. There’s no way I have anything that resembles a soft spot for him. He’s the most obnoxious man on the planet. If aliens invaded Earth and we had to send a sacrifice with them to save humankind, I’d personally escort Dean onto their ship.

Then why haven’t you reported him? And the better question…why were you going to let him kiss you?

“Trust me, there’s no soft spot.”

“Right.” He chuckles, shaking his head. He pushes up to his feet with ease, then extends a hand my way. “Come on. Let’s go see how bad we suck at this.”

12

Dean

“You have gotto be fucking kidding me…”

I growl, tapping my head against the door and gripping the handle until my knuckles are turning white.

Locked out again.

I wish I’d have stopped in at the hardware store with her in tow and forced her to make me a key the day we went to the roller rink, but the only thing that was running through my mind was that I almost kissed her.

I almost kissed River, and if Lucy hadn’t interrupted us, I would have.

Hell, even almost a week later, I’d probablystillbe kissing her.

Long. Hard. In all the ways I’ve thought about when I’m unable to sleep at night and unwilling to tug my cock with her in the room across the hall.

Right now, I don’t want to kiss her. I’m too damn annoyed by her.

I bang on the door. “Dammit, River! Let me in!”

An older woman from across the hall steps out of her apartment, her face pinched with disapproval. She’s given me similar looks before, and now that I know it’s not River, I’d bet good moneyshe’sthe one complaining to Lucy about me.

I give her a tight smile.

“It’s a sex-game thing.”

She gasps, clutching her chest and hurrying faster down the hall in an effort to get away from me.

I don’t feel sorry for scaring her. I’m too fucking frustrated.

I need a key to this apartment, and that changes…now.

I beat on the door yet again. “River! Open up, dammit!”

“Wow.”

I whirl around, startled by the sound.

River’s standing about three doors down, right across from the elevator. She’s leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with a raised brow.

“Telling old ladies we’re playing sex gamesandcussing at me. And here I thought you were a gentleman, Dean.”

I scoff. “You entertained no such notion.” She shrugs. “Now come open the door.”

“You’re not technically wrong.” She shoves off the wall, making her way toward me with the world’s slowest gait—probably because she fell no less than ten times while roller skating. With the same snail’s pace, she pulls her keys from her pocket and slips the correct one into the lock, twisting them both and pushing the door open, motioning for me to go first.

“I might be an asshole sometimes, but ladies always go first.”

She grumbles something I can’t make out and pushes past me. I follow her inside.

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