by Tee, Marian
But whatever.
Moving on.
I squared my shoulders.
Zero nightmares gained, hundreds of calories lost.
I just had to think of it as an all-new mantra to live by.
So eyes on the prize, missy, and get on with it.
I climbed up the treadmill and heard someone step up on the treadmill next to mine as I dropped my water bottle into the holder. I couldn't resist looking up, curious to see who else could be working at this hour, and—-
Camilla Cabello started singing in my mind as nightmares of shadowy stalkers were all but forgotten.
Because the guy next to me?
Ooh. La. La. La.
He was hot. Just oozing with so much hotness that staring at him literally left my throat dry. He had jet-black hair and silver eyes that seemed to smolder the moment our gazes collided. He was beautiful, albeit in a harshly defined way, and so breathtakingly sexy that I was suddenly reminded of just how long it had been since the last time I had sex.
I had never had a one-night stand in my life, but if this guy asked me to hook up?
I'd say yes in a heartbeat, and I wouldn't even feel the slightest bit of shame about it.
He had a rather brooding air about him, despite the casualness of his attire (stadium jersey and track pants, both in black). I've only dated three guys in my entire life, and they had all been the well-dressed and party-loving type. Nothing at all like the guy next to me, in other words, who was more like the kind to report house parties in the neighborhood as a public disturbance.
He was as staid as I was flighty, and just looking at him made me wonder if he had ever cracked a joke in his life. I usually avoided guys like him because they tended to be intellectual snobs, but...
God, he was so sexy.
Something about him was just so potently attractive, and I couldn't stop staring at him. He was just...he was just so...
"What are you doing here?"
He was just so...weird?
"I...um...think you've mistaken me for someone else." That was the only explanation I could think of, for him to grate his words out like that while glaring at me like I had stolen someone's access card to get in.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Sorry." The harshness in his voice was gone now, but his tone was still naturally rough and velvety, and shameless slut that I am, the sound had my heart skipping a beat. I would love to hear how my name sounded with his voice.
"You...took me by surprise," the stranger went on to say.
"I did?"
"I live in 13A."
My eyes widened. "I'm 13B—-"
"I know. That's why..."
I had taken him for surprise, he said.
My brows furrowed. "I don't think I've ever bumped into you," I said uncertainly.
"You probably didn't notice me," he murmured.
Was he kidding? With a face like his, only an idiot would be able to forget bumping into him, and the thought had me shaking my head decisively. "I would remember if I did."
"Is that so?"
"Well, duh—-" I suddenly realized how I was giving myself away, and when I peeked at his expression, the gleam of amusement in his silvery eyes told me he was thinking the exact same thing.
Eep.
"Actually, I think you're right," I said airily. "I must not have noticed, that's all." And because I didn't want to give him a chance to argue the point, I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. "Saoirse, by the way."
"Hadrian." His hand engulfed mine, and the heat of his touch made me swallow hard, with the way it reminded me yet again of how long it was since I last had sex.
Behave, Saoirse, behave.
His thumb gently ran over my knuckles before releasing my hand, and the unexpected gesture had me pressing my legs together.
Shit.
I quickly turned away and fussed over the controls of my treadmill while I frantically sought to regain control of my hormones, which were acting like they had just been let out of their cages after ten thousand years.
Show some restraint, girl!
I slammed my hand on the Start button in a fit of frustration—-
"Everything alright?" 13A asked politely.
"Yup." I didn't look at him as I spoke and made a show of being super focused on working out until I sensed him finally turning his attention to somewhere else. Good. Life was a little complicated right now, and adding men to the equation would only mean trouble.
Something about 13A-slash-Hadrian was just too disturbingly attractive. It reminded me of the time Jason and I had first met. I had only found him cute that time, and that guy had ended up breaking my heart. I can only imagine how worse it could get, with the way a single smoldering glance from Hadrian had me all hot and bothered.
At least I got what I came for, I tried comforting myself. I wanted something to take my mind off my nightmare, and well, that was Mr. 13A in a nutshell. If something was still going to bother my sleep, it would probably the wet dreams I might end up having about him.
Which I wasn't looking forward to.
At all.
Really.
But the way my cheeks once again started heating up said otherwise.
Gaaaaah.
I jabbed the Speed button several times in hopes of outrunning the lustfulness of my thoughts.
Stop being so horny, Saoirse!
But it was no use. It was as if seeing Hadrian had flipped my inner Pandora's box open and out came all my sexual frustrations. The pounding sound of my feet against the treadmill's conveyor belt made me imagine of how it would feel if it were Hadrian pounding into me. Even the way I was starting to sweat had become a sinful thing, with the way it taunted me with visions of naked bodies bathed in sweat, their limbs entangled as they rocked against each other.
I had never been this fixated on sex before. Never. Not even in the first few years Jason and I were together, and we had been so madly in love. Was this desperate need for sex merely a symptom of perimenopause? Had I been going through some kind of midlife crisis without knowing it, and this inexplicably powerful attraction to my broodingly handsome neighbor was nothing but a manifestation of my subconscious struggles?
It could be any of those things, I supposed.
But it could also be that I was attracted to him for one simple reason, like the fact that it had been a really long dry spell for me...and he was the hottest guy I had come across since waking up from my coma.
I tried coming up with some rational explanation for my stronger-than-usual interest in Hadrian, but by the time my thirty-minute calorie burning program ended, I still wasn't any closer to understanding myself.
All I knew right now was how acutely conscious I still was of his presence, and how the mere sound of his feet pounding (oh my God, why can't I stop thinking of this word?) the treadmill still had my heart racing.
The one-minute cooling down period of my treadmill ended, and as my steps gradually slowed to a halt, I couldn't help but notice Hadrian doing the same thing.
Coincidence or something else?
I stepped off my treadmill, and in the corner of my eye, I saw him doing the same thing. This definitely couldn't be another coincidence, could it? But even if it weren't, I should know better than to let it matter. I just knew with all my heart that Mr. 13A was going to be even more trouble than Jason.
So just go, Saoirse.
You can just fantasize about him later on, and use him as a distraction for your nightmares.
Now go!
But instead, I found myself doing the silliest thing ever.
I lifted my gaze to his, and my breath caught when I saw that he had been watching me this whole time.
And the look in his eyes told me—-
He knew.
Hadrian totally knew I had the hots for him.
And just like any sensible forty-year-old would do in this kind of situation, I heard my voice turn husky as I asked, "Your place or mine?"
Chapter Five<
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We ended up in one of the shower cubicles in the men's locker room.
It was that or the treadmill.
Seriously.
The moment our lips touched, something seemed to explode between us. Our chemistry was off the charts, and our hands were all over each other the moment the door swung shut behind him.
"Are you—-"
"I am."
I loved how in sync we were, the way we could understand what the other was saying with a handful of words. Even so, I also thought I should warn him—-
"No foreplay," I managed to gasp when another kiss ended, just so we could start breathing.
Silver eyes glittered down at me. "Good."
And then we were kissing again.
It's been so long, it's been so long, God, it's been—-aaah!
I gasped against Hadrian's lips when I felt him rip my leggings off, and I heard him chuckle when I couldn't help pushing his shirt up so I could run my hands over his chest.
Which was hard.
All.
Over.
God, he was hot.
His tongue thrust deep into my mouth just as his fingers trailed down to find the edge of my panties, and my toes curled hard. I already knew what was going to happen next, but even so, when it did happen, and I heard another ripping sound—-
A whimper escaped me as cool air slapped against my bare crotch. I felt the tiniest flare of embarrassment, but this was soon forgotten when he spun me around, and I felt him gently exert pressure against my back until I was bending from the waist down.
I held on to the shower handles instinctively—-
Oh God.
He entered me a moment later, the thrust of his manhood smooth, deep, and possessive, and it was like going from achingly empty to heart-stoppingly full in an instant.
"It's been so long, love," I heard him say hoarsely.
Was it, really?
It was so hard to believe, with someone as gorgeous as him, but it was impossible for me to ask. Impossible to speak really, since all I could do at that moment was try to catch my breath and keep my moans trapped inside my throat as he started pumping inside of me, harder and faster than any other man had ever done.
So good.
Oh God.
Don't stop.
So good.
I was terrified of making any noise, but when he leaned down, and I felt his hand go inside my shirt to fondle my breast—-
Oh God.
A moan broke past my lips, and I moaned anew when his fingers found my nipple.
"Yes," I heard him grit out, all the while thrusting deep inside of me while tugging at my nipple. The sensation ripped out another moan from my throat while my body buckled against him helplessly.
"More." His voice was guttural and demanding. "I want to hear you, love."
Frissons of desire electrified every cell in my body at the order, and I arched up against him.
"Moan for me," he growled.
And I did.
I couldn't seem to help it all of a sudden, couldn't help but let myself go, and it just made everything a thousand times better.
His thrusts became wilder, and the erotic cacophony of noise that was bouncing against the tiled walls only served to intensify the pleasure building inside of me. I loved the roughness of his pants and the wanton sound of his balls slapping against my ass. I loved hearing the sliding rasps of his member as it moved in and out of me. And when my pleasure finally reached its sharpest peak—-
That was when I heard it, a sound that was even lovelier than I had let myself hope for, but at the same time a sound that was almost eerily familiar—-
"Saoirse."
My name on his lips, as he started cumming inside of me.
COLOR HEATED MY CHEEKS as I watched Hadrian pick the tattered remains of my panties and leggings, and it was a struggle to keep my mouth shut when I saw him shove the pieces inside his pocket.
Should I ask...
I thought about it.
Nah.
"Wait here," Hadrian murmured just before leaving the cubicle, and I could feel my face burning a hotter shade of red when I heard the way the other guys started ribbing him. Other tenants had started coming in at least an hour ago, and suffice to say, they had all stuck around to enjoy the, um, sounds.
When Hadrian came back, he had a fluffy oversized robe to wrap around my half-naked body, and I didn't even bother feigning a protest as he swung me up in his arms. I burrowed deep into his chest as he stepped out, and I could only feel grateful my hair was long enough to hide my face when I heard the guys start whistling and clapping.
My first walk of shame, I thought sorrowfully, and it just had to happen when I was already forty.
"Forget about them," Hadrian said gruffly once we were out of earshot. "They're just jealous."
"I would be, too, if I were in their place," I mumbled under my breath. "Men aren't supposed to last for more than a couple of minutes—-" Even without raising my head, I could practically feel Hadrian smirking at this. "While you—-" I broke off as a thought suddenly occurred to me, and I abruptly started trying to wriggle out of his hold.
"Hold on..." Hadrian only lowered me back to my feet once we were inside the elevator, and he had pushed the button for our floor. He glanced down at me questioningly then, asking, "What is it?"
I crossed my arms over my chest, demanding suspiciously, "How old are you?"
His lips curved. "Why do you want to know?"
I groaned. I knew it. Mr. 13A had officially turned me into a cougar. "You're a lot younger than me, aren't you?" It was the only reason I could think of to explain how he had the stamina of a sex-starved frat boy.
"Do I look like I'm younger than you?"
I groaned again. "You're not answering my question." Which totally meant I was right. He was younger than me, never mind the fact that he didn't look like it. Maybe he was like George Clooney, and he had been born looking dashingly mature even in his teens.
"Just tell me how old you are," I insisted.
"Why does it have to matter—-"
"Because I'm forty!"
"I'm...forty-three."
"Ha!" Did he think I was stupid? Did he think I wouldn't notice that little pause before he allowed himself to lie?
Amusement glittered in his eyes when he saw me glower. "You think I'm lying about my age?"
"I can't think why you feel like you have to," I answered truthfully, "but yes."
"Fine then. I'm younger than you."
I was pretty sure he was, but then I noticed the smirk slowly unfolding over his lips—-
"I'm being serious here!"
This time, Hadrian didn't bother pretending. He threw his head back in a laugh, the sound as sexy as it was irritating.
"I really mean it," I growled. "I'm serious—-"
"You look cute when you pout," he remarked.
I was distracted and flustered right away. "Stop that." But a half second later, I also heard myself ask, "Really?"
"Really." His tone was solemn, but his eyes...
"You're laughing at me again," I accused.
"Because you're cute."
I bit back a groan. "Stop that." You'd think that hearing him use the almost exact same pick-up line would've turned me off, but nope. It just made me want to throw myself at him...and stay glued to his rock-hard body.
Hadrian offered me his hand when the elevator doors opened to our floor, and even though a part of me had this urge to flee, it also felt natural somehow to place my hand in his.
We walked in silence, and I told myself not to expect anything. He was just being a gentleman. There's no reason for me to think that what happened this morning could turn into something else.
So if he leaves, just let him go, and don't you ever run after him.
Got that?!
We reached our respective doors, and I took a deep breath.
Play it cool, Saoirse.
But when I finally lifted my head,
it was as if he had only been waiting for me to meet my gaze.
"What are your plans for today?"
My heart thundered against my chest.
He wants to see me again!
I couldn't keep myself from beaming at the thought, and Hadrian's handsome face softened with a smile of his own.
"I thought it was just going to be a one-off thing with us," I admitted.
"Not possible," he murmured.
"Because you have a thing for older women?" I couldn't help teasing, and a giggle escaped me when I saw him roll his eyes.
"You haven't answered my question," Hadrian reminded me.
Oh.
Right.
"I have work this afternoon," I began.
"What time?"
"I leave around two—-"
He nodded. "I'll drive you."
My eyes widened. "You don't have to—-"
Hadrian simply looked at me.
"But...if you insist?"
"I insist."
And then he was gently pressing me back against my door, his fingers driving through my hair as his mouth covered mine.
Butterflies were still fluttering in my stomach when I let myself in my apartment and saw Mary Priscilla sitting in the couch. "Where have you been?" she asked curiously.
"The gym," I answered rather dreamily.
Her nose wrinkled as she floated towards me. "You smell weird."
"Do I?" My tone came out faint, my mind still consumed with thoughts of Hadrian. "It's probably cu—-" Whoa. I stopped myself in time, aghast at what I had almost let slip.
"It's what?" The little girl was still looking at me expectantly.
"Cologne," I said lamely.
Mary Priscilla's nose wrinkled again. "It doesn't smell like cologne."
"Because it's not for kids." And since the look on her face told me she was planning to ask a gazillion more questions about it, I hastily changed the subject, asking, "Do you know anything about the guy next door?"
