Loving the Bad Boy's name

Chapter 1: Loving the bad boys name: New home

Bree's POV

This is it, we're in New York.

This is my home for the next two years and the best part is that I get to spend the whole time that I'm here with my boyfriend. Who would've thought the bad boy and the sarcastic froot loop detective would've fallen for each other, I've fallen for the one and only Ryder Anders and now we're living in New York together, officially together.

And it couldn't feel better.

I silently admired Ryder whilst he rested his head against the window as Peterson, our limo chauffeur drove round a bend. His plumpish lips were slightly parted as he kept both his eyelids lightly shut, stopping anyone from seeing his caramel orbs. I could tell that he wasn't sleeping but was trying to. I smiled as his lips twitched up slightly as his hand, which was firmly interlocked with mine, squeezed my palm tighter. He spoke softly, his eyes fluttering between open and closed. "Listen I know I'm hot but watching me whilst I sleep? C'mon babe, you're better that that."

I nudged his shoulder slightly as I speak. "You weren't even asleep."

"Well how'd you expect me to fall asleep when I could feel your ravenous eyes piercing holes in my skin." His light-hearted response was instant, almost as if he had foretold what I would say, which wouldn't surprise me, he knew me pretty well. It's crazy how we've so quickly fallen into sync with each other. I knew Ryder like that back of my hand and he knew me like his.

"Ryder, I glanced at you for half a second!" I reply with a scoff.

Clearly I wasn't fooling any of us because it was his turn to scoff. "Well that must've been one hell of a second. You're so thirsty for me, I can see the drool in the corner of your mouth." Using the hand that wasn't intertwined with mine, he reached out trying to point to where the supposed drool was but I quickly swatted his hand away. I may be thirsty but I wasn't that thirsty. I opened my mouth to give my retort but quickly closed it when nothing came to mind, a frown falling on my face. Maybe I was that thirsty.

From the corner of my eye I see Ryder grinning with himself clearing impressed that he had managed to render me speechless and in turn doing so, winning our petty little dispute. The limousine came to a stop and Peterson rolled down the partition window.

"We're here lady and gent."

We both vacate the car, Peterson hot on our trail as he helps us with our suitcases. Pete was hired for the sole purpose of driving both Ryder and I around as neither of us had our own forms of transport here in NYC. I take in the big house in front of us, it looking just as big and extravagant as it did before, yet it still manages to take my breath away. It was a vintage styled house, with a large fresh lawn and stoned pathway leading up to the oval shaped burgundy double front door positioned exactly in the centre of the house. Wild vines ran over most of the grey stones that made up the house with the occasional clematis flower. There were also several large white rimmed windows which allowed the natural daylight to flood in. I had just about taken in everything when the front door was hastily swung open and a tall skinny French lady scurried towards me. "Mon petit chérir. It's nice to see you." Manon spoke, her accent as thick and distinctive as I remembered.

Both Ryder and I bid goodbye to Peterson, watching him take off down the road as Manon ushers us into the house. She giddily takes our suitcases away from us before resting them against a cellar style cupboard located behind her. I smile warmly at Manon and embrace her in a tight hug. "I missed you." I tell her.