The Voyeur Next Door (10 page)

I waited until he was fully out of sight before dropping back down in a graceless heap. I ran a clammy hand over my face, nearly dislodging my glasses. I was almost steady again when he returned, thundering down the stairs like zombies were chasing him. He hit the main level and found me with wide eyes.

“I didn’t do it,” I blurted out of pure reflex.

He blinked. “What? No.” He stepped closer. “Do you sew?”

It was my turn to blink, flabbergasted. “Like a button?”

Of course, my gaze dropped to his midsection and the button on his jeans, which inadvertently, pulled my gaze to the very rigid cock making an impressively long bump against the front. The boy was endowed.

“A costume,” he said, his voice rising in a hopeful ripple of excitement. “You can sew like clothes, right?”

“Uh…” I began, grimacing. “Not really. I mean, I can sew a hole, or a—”

“But if you were given simple instructions?” he interrupted.

I scratched absently at the back of my head. “I guess…”

He beamed and the sheer force of that smile smacked me upside the head. It was a hot smile. There were even dimples, deep, beautiful dimples hidden behind that ugly patch of hair covering his face. I stared. I gawked. I was sure my mouth was hanging open and drool was escaping down my chin.

“What are you doing Saturday?”

Jesus, was he asking me out? I hadn’t been asked out since Tony and I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for rejecting ones boss.

“I’m kind of in a semi relationship?” I only semi lied, thinking of Q. “It’s really recent, but—”

His smile morphed into the sort of frown I would have given someone if they suggested I start making a living flinging poo at unsuspecting pedestrians.

“I’m not asking you out.”

Ouch.

Despite having wanted to reject him only moments earlier, the offense in his tone was insulting.

“Oh,” I mumbled, smothering my hurt. “Well, I guess in that case, I’m not doing anything.” I narrowed my eyes. “Unless you want me to work. Then I have plans.”

Humor shone in his eyes that I liked to think was brought on by my adorableness, but I knew it wasn’t. His smile returned and it was all kinds of sexy. I kind of hated that I noticed.

“It’s not work,” he promised. “Tammy’s got this school play and she needs help with her costume.”

“Oh!” I said for a second time. “Okay … what do you need from me?”

It was unclear how I got roped into helping a sixteen year old with her school costume, but it was sort of worth it to see the brilliant flash of Gabriel’s smile again. The full thing was a breathtaking sight. It would have been better if he didn’t have a face bush, but regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing all those straight, white teeth in something other than a sneer.

Then I mentally smacked myself and reminded myself why we didn’t like him and why we needed to stop thinking pervy thoughts about him. Aside from being my boss, he was a grade-A douche bar and I needed to remember that.

The rest of the day seemed to wear on, not really going fast, but not taking forever. I stayed in the office, dutifully righting a very tragic catastrophe. The crew stomped in around one and trudged upstairs, no one stopping to say hi, or introduce themselves. It was day two and I was still the pariah. The only one that darkened my progress was Gabriel.

“It’s lunch,” he told me as he had the day before.

“Not hungry,” I told him, lying through my teeth.

I was starving. My head was pounding with the force of my hunger. But I didn’t eat in front of people, not unless it was something small, and I wanted a giant steak burger with chili fries and a salad.

“You should eat something,” he pressed.

I managed not to ogle his crotch this time as I lifted my head to peer up at him.

“I will,” I lied, yet again. “I’m just going to get through this stack.”

His eyes narrowed. He continued to hover over me for several more minutes, like he was trying to
Jedi
mind meld me into complying. But his batteries must have been low, because I felt nothing, except a mild sense of irritation that he was intensifying my headache.

“Make sure you do,” he said at last, giving up our showdown.

I would have saluted him if I had the energy. Instead, I could only sit and watch as he pivoted on his heels and disappeared upstairs.

The throb between my temples had escalated to a dull roar by the time six o’clock rolled around. I could barely see straight as I returned the leftover piles to the desk, grabbed my purse and hurried from the office. Gabriel glanced up from the tire gauge he was attaching to the back tire of the car he’d been working on. Then he peeked at his watch.

“It’s six,” I assured him, struggling to keep my voice even. “I’ll see you tomorrow at your sister’s school.”

He rose from his crouch. It was so unexpected, or maybe it was because my head was spinning, I jumped and staggered back into a metal toolbox. The momentum drove it backwards with a noisy clatter that sounded like a bomb going off inside my skull. I grabbed it before it could go too far and hit the sports car behind me. Then I used it to steady my weight when the room swayed beneath my feet.

“Ali?” Gabriel’s fingers closed around my elbow. “What’s wrong?”

I gave a shake of my head. Bad idea. Spots exploded across my vision. I squeezed my eyes closed, counted to ten before opening them again and forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“I’m just really tired,” I said, rolling my eyes in emphasis. “Too many papers.”

“You look pale.

“I’m fine.” I dislodged him from my arm and ducked around his frame. “Night.”

I left before I could pass out at his feet, or worse, before he could stop me.

The walk home was barely twenty minutes, but it felt like forever. Between the hunger and the heat, I was sure I was going to die. It was sheer willpower that got me to my apartment and through the door. My purse hit the table, along with my keys and I staggered into the kitchen for the Chinese I’d ordered the night before.

I ate it cold, straight out of the takeout container with my fingers while standing over the sink. My stomach roiled in both protest and greedy delight as several egg rolls, chow mein noodles and sweet and sour pork dropped into its empty abyss. I stopped when the containers were empty and the tremors in my legs had subsided. I cleaned up my mess and made my way into the living room to strip and change into my robe. The headache was still there, but it was nothing a couple of aspirins wouldn’t take care of, if I had the energy to find any. Instead, I pushed open the terrace doors and stepped out into the sweltering heat.

My neighbors weren’t home. They wouldn’t be for another fifteen minutes. It irked me that I would miss them for the third day in a row because seven was when Q wanted me to call. I made a mental note to tell him to change the time to eight. That gave me an hour to relax my mind after spending the entire day organizing files.

Regardless, at six fifty-eight, I wandered back into the apartment and picked up the phone. It rang. Once. Twice. Four times. Five.

I started to hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I know it’s not Monday,” I rushed on before he could speak the words I knew were coming. “But I hope it’s okay I called.”

“Have you already decided?”

I looked down at my comforter, my face twisted in a grimace I knew he couldn’t see. I traced a finger along the neat little diamonds stitched into the floral pattern.

“Not exactly.”

“Is something wrong?”

Wrong? No. There was nothing really
wrong
exactly.

“I came last night,” I blurted, kind of the way one would tear off a band aid—quickly. I blew out a breath. “I didn’t mean to,” I went on, much more calmly. “It happened in my sleep.”

“I see,”
he said at last with a slow contemplation. “
Tell me about it.”

I hadn’t been expecting that response and was thus unprepared. It took me a few moments to slip out of my surprise and pull up memories of my dream.

“I was in bed,” I began. “It was night. The lamp was on.” My cheeks warmed, as did the junction of my thighs as every moment of that dream came into focus. I willed my voice to remain steady even while my insides shivered. “It spilled over the sheets, a soft, pale gold and shone over…”

“Yes?”
he prompted gently when I faltered.

I swallowed and darted a nervous tongue over my lips. “I was on my back and he was leaning over me. His weight pushed me into the mattress and I could feel his naked skin pressed into the length of me. Everything about him was hot and I could feel myself burning up just from him being so close. His mouth…” I drew in a sharp breath as my nipples tightened in recollection and twanged in a sweet sort of pinch. “His teeth … his tongue … they were on my breasts,” I gasped, more than a little breathless. “Nipping, sucking … biting.”

“Do you like your nipples bit?”

Tony had never paid very much attention to my breasts. He was an in and out sort of guy. Foreplay and working for his meal never crossed his mind.

“I don’t know,” I whispered honestly. “I did in my dream. I loved it.”

“You’ve never had your nipples sucked on?”

Aside from groping, squeezing and the occasional fondle, Tony seemed not to have gotten the memo where men were supposed to love and worship boobs.

“No,” I said.

“Have you ever been with a man?”
Q asked.

“I had a boyfriend,” I told him. “Years ago, but he wasn’t a breast guy, or a clit guy, or a fingering guy.”

“God,”
he whispered with a sharp hiss.
“What
did
he do?”

I chuckled. “A lot of missionary that involved him grunting and pumping.”

I immediately felt bad about throwing Tony under the bus like that. It hadn’t been entirely his fault. He’d been raised in a strict, religious household where sex was seen as a sin that should only take place between a husband and wife. He wouldn’t even let me give him head, because that would be considered sacrilegious. Apparently, my mouth should only be used to speak the lord’s name, which I would have done so happily if Tony was a more thoughtful lover.

“And there has been no one since?”

I considered telling him about Mr. Happy, my dildo, but I wasn’t sure that counted.

“Not a person, no,” I said.

“That’s intriguing.”

My cheeks warmed and I bit my lip. “I can’t tell you all my secrets.”

And there was the sex goddess. I wanted to applaud her impeccable timing.

He groaned, low and husky and I tingled all over.
“That’s fine,”
he purred in that deep rumble that made my pussy want to hump his voice like a dog in heat.
“I’d rather see them.”

Oh god.

“When?” Because I was hot, horny, and ready.

“Whenever you’re ready to decide,”
he answered smoothly.

I’d nearly forgotten I was the reason we were waiting. I kind of hated myself in that moment. I also wanted to say screw it and grab my laptop. But what did that say about me? I didn’t want him to think I was a flaky, indecisive nymphomaniac that couldn’t control herself.

I growled in my throat.

Stupid pride.

He chuckled.
“At least you came.”

“It doesn’t count.”

“Tell that to my cock. It’s feeling very lonely and left out right now.”

I had a vision of him on the bed, cock in hand, stroking lazily, kind of the way he had the first night. I shivered.

“What are you wearing?” I whispered, fingers moving to the sash keeping my robe in place.

I heard him give an almost ironic chuckle.
“A towel,”
he said.
“I was just getting out of the shower when you called.”

That image cinched around my lungs, cutting off my air and making my libido go ape-shit. My over excited sex pulsed in greedy excitement.

“Are you still wearing it?”