Spy Thy Neighbor

by Shandi Boyes

  When I reach the edge of my patio, I lean in and press a kiss on Hunter's mouth. "Thanks for joining me for a swim."

  He smirks against my lips. “It was my pleasure. But can we do it in summer next time?”

  Laughing, I nod, trying not to look too deeply into his suggestion there may be a next time. After flashing him a quick smirk, I walk up the steps of my patio. Just as I merge into the glass door, Hunter calls my name.

  I tilt my head back outside. “Yeah?”

  “Do you have any plans Christmas Eve?” he asks, his eyes staring straight into mine.

  Keeping my excitement concealed behind a neutral expression, I shake my head.

  A broad grin stretches across his face. "Do you want to come to a party with me?"

  My heart rate skyrockets. “A family thing or just us?”

  Hunter throws back his head and laughs. “You just went skinny dipping on a public beach without a smidgen of concern, but you’re freaked out about the prospects of meeting some friends of mine?”

  I snarl at him, bearing teeth. “I’m not scared. I just wasn’t sure if this is the type of things friends did." I cross my arms in front of my chest, hoisting my little bosoms higher. "It could just be because my brain has frozen over, but this kind of sounds like a date to me?"

  Hunter smirks while shaking his head. “It’s not a date. It’s just two friends hanging out." His eyes drop to his plaid shirt curled around my body. "It's so casual, you can even wear jeans and a plaid shirt if you want too."

  I glare into his eyes while tugging his shirt in closer to my body. “You’re not getting this back,” I state matter-of-factly.

  "Good. Cause you aren't getting back your panties either.” He smirks a deliciously wicked smile.

  My jaw drops. I completely forgot he has my panties in the pocket of his jeans.

  I prop my hip onto the wall of the cabin and stare into his jeering face. “Will you give me back my panties if I go to this party with you?”

  “Nope,” he replies without a delay, his eyes scorching into mine.

  I cross my legs, battling to lessen the crazy rush of desire swamping my panty-less crotch from his gleaming gaze.

  “Then I guess you’re going to the party dateless.” I push off the wall and mosey into the cabin.

  My pace slows when Hunter murmurs, “What about a compromise?”

  I smile, smitten he isn't giving up without a fight. My nipples tighten when I step back onto the patio. The perkiness of my breasts isn't from the chilly breeze blowing in from the west; it's from the hankering look in Hunter's eyes as he dangles my satin bra from his index finger.

  “You keep my shirt; I’ll keep your panties. You get your bra; I get a date,” he negotiates.

  My teeth scrape over my bottom lip as I pretend I wasn't two heartbeats away from spinning around and accepting his date before he suggested the compromise. I'm not going to lie; I love the way a beading of sweat forms on the top of his brow from my delay in replying. Even if it's only for a minute, it's nice for the shoe to be on the other foot in our odd friendship.

  Believing he has sweated it out long enough, I say, “You have yourself a deal.”

  Chapter Ten

  My leisurely pace up the sand-lined path halts when my eyes lock in on a raw, earth-shattering visual. Hunter is in the shower. Not the shower in his overly priced, pristine glass house, the outside shower nestled in the privacy of his glass and steel patio.

  The early morning sun glistens on his wet torso as a flood of water flows from the shower head down his long hair that's framing his face. A breathless moan ripples from my lips when I follow the torrent of water slithering past his smooth pecs and bumps of his six pack before gushing over his fisted manhood. His parted lips are releasing quick pants of breath in a rhythm matching the strokes on his cock.

  No matter how much my conscience tells me to look away, just like the first night I discovered Hunter in a lust-crazed romp, I can’t pry my eyes from him. The visual is too primal, raw, utterly carnal not to devour. Hunter’s head is lolled to the side, his plump lips are split, and the sexiest groans I’ve ever heard are rumbling from his throat as he brings himself to the brink of ecstasy.

  I lick my parched lips as my eyes drink in every delicious inch of him: carved, prominent muscles, smooth hairless torso, and a gorgeous face covered by a scruffy beard.

  The beat of my heart turns wild when my eyes drop lower. Even his large, manly hand fisting his cock can’t take away from the sheer girth and length of his thickened shaft. It's mouth-salivatingly delicious, uncut and jutted with the slightest shimmering of pre-cum at the tip. Just watching him brings new understanding to the world of voyeurs. If the visuals I’m going to encounter are this entertaining, I may consider altering my opinion on my voyeurism status.

  My throat struggles to swallow when Hunter’s pace quickens. He leans deeper into the shower as his hand works his cock from the base to the very tip in precise, perfect strokes. I curve my knees inward, battling to ease the crazy pulse surging through my womb. Slickness coats my swimwear when I press my thighs together, unable to harbor my excitement any longer.

  The mad throb between my legs turns lethal when Hunter hears the moan I failed to stifle. His weighed-down eyelids pop open before his heavily-dilated eyes lock with mine. Another throaty moan topples from my O-formed mouth when the pace of his strokes strengthens as he stares into my lust-crazed eyes.

  His hips thrust, guiding his magnificent cock in and out of his clenched fist. I stare at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, shocked beyond comprehension at the rapid surge of my libido. Just watching him unravel is bringing my climax to the surface at a frantic velocity.

  Just as his nostrils flare, and the veins in his cock bulge, an annoying buzz of an alarm clock blasts my ears.

  A rough, full-of-torment groan simpers through my parched lips when I emerge back into the land of the living. Even knowing the glorious visual was nothing but a dream, the wetness between my legs doesn't dampen any. I'm beyond saturated.

  I'd like to say my X-rated dream was the first I've had of Hunter. It isn't. Ever since our skinny dipping adventure four nights ago, I haven't stopped dreaming about him. And like a sex-deprived nympho, every one of my dreams has featured Hunter in the middle of a sex act: nude, alone and handsy.

  Ignoring the insane throb of excitement thickening my blood, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and mosey into the main bathroom for my fourth cold shower this week.

  "Do a Google image reverse search on him.” Pepper flicks her eyes between me and a program she's watching on TV.

  I place my half-eaten cornflakes onto my desk and curl my legs under my bottom. “A what?”

  "You upload an image onto Google, and it searches for similar images. Maybe it will find him?" she advises, drifting her eyes back to the screen of her phone.

  We've been facetiming the past thirty minutes while watching a recording of our favorite sitcom, Empire. Pepper and I are usually inseparable, usually spending a minimum of two to three hours together each day. Since I flew to the other side of the country, we've had to resort to FaceTime as a way to keep our unique closeness firmly tethered.

  “If he's someone famous, it will find him quick smart,” Pepper adds on.

  I consider her suggestion for as long as it takes for me to remember that I don’t have a photo of Hunter.

  After sharing my dilemma with Pepper, she says, “Well if you didn’t hold out on my request for army porn weeks ago, that wouldn’t have been a problem, would it?”

  Suddenly, her shoulders square and her pupils enlarge. “What’s the name of that town near Bronte’s Peak? The one you visited to get your laptop repaired?” Her words come out in an excited hurry.

  “Ravenshoe?”

  I scrunch up my face, unsure why an unknown town on the other side of the country would be of interest to her.

  “Yes!”

  She jumps from her chair and ruffles through a collecti
on of gossip magazines at her side. Once she finds the article she's looking for, she saunters back to the computer desk and plops into her leather chair.

  “You know that song blowing up the charts? Umm… what’s it called… it’s by that group of hotties?”

  “Oh… umm… surrender something?” I suggest.

  “’Surrender Me!’ That’s it,” Pepper interrupts, startling me when her loud roar thunders down the line. “I was reading a little article written in a magazine about them this morning. What would you say if I told you the band members from Rise Up live in Ravenshoe?”

  My eyes bulge out of my head. “Are you serious?”

  Pepper waggles her manicured brows while nodding. "Fancy-schmancy house, nice cars, obviously wealthy. Maybe all those women you saw coming and going from Hunter's home those first six weeks were groupies?"

  I'm not going to lie, my heart painfully twisted when she said the last part of her statement. Before we became friends, seeing the troop of women come in and out of Hunter’s life like a revolving door didn't bother me the slightest. Now… it stings a little.

  “Does the article tell you their names?”

  Pepper’s eyes scan the document. “Noah Taylor, lead singer; Marcus Everett, bassist; Nicholas Holt, guitarist; and the drummer is Slater Scott.”

  I slump deeper into my seat. "It's not Hunter then."

  “Why?”

  “Because he introduced himself as Hunter,” I advise, my brows inching as high as my voice.

  “And? What name did you use when you introduced yourself?” Pepper rebuts.

  My heart slithers into my gut. “Paige.”

  Pepper smirks a winning smile. "Exactly. Maybe you aren't the only one using an alias?"

  Keystrokes resonates out of my iPhone speaker as I sit in silence, muted by guilt.

  "Well, he isn't the lead singer, Noah is smoking hot, but has a dark and moody appearance."

  I pull my phone in closer to my face. “What are you doing?”

  “Googling the Rise Up band members,” she reports like it’s no big deal she's invading Hunter’s privacy.

  After a small stretch of silence, she turns her eyes to me. “Do you need a visitor? Because I need to see if Marcus is this hot in real life. If he is, I’m giving up my dreams of becoming an actress and taking up the role of Marcus’s lead groupie.”

  I giggle softly. “Better than any cabana boy you’ve seen?”

  "Ah, much better.” She returns her eyes to her laptop. "Check your email; I just sent you a picture."

  I lower the phone and log into my email account.

  “Wow,” I mumble when Marcus pops up on the screen. He has a gorgeous face and seducing green eyes. “I have to write a character with his bedroom eyes.”

  Pepper laughs. “Hell yeah. But I think it’s safe to say he isn’t Hunter. Even with the lack of zoom on your phone, I’m fairly sure Hunter didn’t have ravishing chocolate skin.”

  I laugh. “No, he's nearly as white as me.”

  "So that leaves two possibilities. Nick the guitarist or Slater the drummer. Although Nick has similar length hair and coloring, his frame is too small, and his skin is void of any tattoos."

  Pepper angles her head to the side as she assesses her laptop screen with vivid accuracy. “Does Hunter have dreads?” She gawks at me through my iPhone screen.

  I shake my head.

  “Darn it. I could see a resemblance between Slater and Hunter, but with how tight Slater’s dreads are, that’s not something he does just for when he’s on the road. They are permanent.”

  With a loud sigh, she leans deeper into her chair. “I thought I was onto a winner. I guess you’ll just have to ask Hunter who the hell he is the next time you see him.”

  My nose scrunches. “He isn’t a fan of sharing personal information.”

  “What man is?” Pepper shrugs her shoulders. “I emailed you a photo of each band member. If you see them, be a doll and grab me an autograph. There's big buzz around them at the moment.”

  “Alright. I’ll keep my eye out,” I reply with a cheeky wink.

  My attention turns from Pepper's happily grinning face when a rumbling engine resonates in the quietness. I leap out of my chair, eager to see if it's Hunter. I haven't seen hide nor hair of him the past three days. After spending every night with him for nearly three weeks, I've noticed his absence.

  Grasping my phone in my hand, I move toward the arched window of my office.

  “Show me,” Pepper whispers down the line.

  Keeping my eyes planted on the three people emerging from a candy apple red muscle car, I twist my phone around. I'm stunned into silence. In the nine weeks I've been here, this is the first time I've seen a male visitor arrive at Hunter's house, let alone two of them.

  “Where the hell are you visiting? Are only hot people allowed to live there?” Pepper snickers.

  I laugh even though I wholeheartedly agree with her assessment. The brunette standing between the two men is gorgeous. She has light beige skin coloring and luxurious dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Even wearing a simple pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt, she looks stunning. A large brute of a man a good four to five inches taller than Hunter takes the stairs two at a time, while the brunette and a handsome blond gentleman lock arms and amble closely behind him.

  A smile tugs on my lips when I spot the brunette’s shocked expression as she absorbs the enormity of Hunter’s house. She looks like a stunned mullet.

  “Do you think we should call the police?” Pepper whispers.

  I shake my head. “No. Look, the hunky brute is putting in a security code.”

  Just as I finish speaking, Patricia’s computer voice sounds through the quiet.

  “That’s cool.” I can hear her smile in her voice.

  “I told you.”

  The way the three of them walk through Hunter's residence with wide eyes and open mouths, I can tell this is their first time visiting. Although his house will always be impressive, nothing replicates the first time you've been captivated by something. Their faces display that they are newbies to the grandeur of Hunter's house.

  My attention reverts from the beautiful brunette emerging onto the glass deck at the back of Hunter's house to the front of his property when a sports car rolls down the driveway. My heart rate kicks up a gear when a gentleman in a three piece suit exits the car after parking it next to the shiny muscle car.

  “Damn,” Pepper draws out in a long, husky drawl. “I’m living in the wrong neighborhood.”

  She leans in closer to her iPhone, ensuring she doesn't miss a thing as the impeccably dressed man moves toward the large glass door. His hair is dark, thick, and luxurious. His body is a similar size to Hunter's, but his choice in clothing accents his god-crafted assets.

  Like he can sense us watching, his long strides come to a halt on the marble foyer of Hunter's house, and he cranks his neck to peer at my window. Even knowing he can't see me, I take a step backward, unnerved by his powerful gaze.

  “Mafia?” Pepper suggests, her voice barely a whisper.

  “What? No!” I reply dramatically. “Do you think?”

  “He's obviously wealthy, has an edge of darkness to him, and even through your phone, his allure demands my attention. He’s either in the mafia or my next sugar daddy.”

  “Every rich guy is your next sugar daddy,” I retort, laughing so hard, I snort.

  "Yeah, true. But even if he were as poor as dirt, I'd still let him leave his toothbrush at my place," Pepper cackles.

  Her giggling stops when the suit-clad gentleman's intense stare down of my window is interrupted by a cute blonde wearing a red Chanel suit.

  “Oh, interesting. It’s like watching Lucious and Cookie from Empire going to battle,” Pepper says when the two engage in a heated argument.

  Their discussion is cut short when the alluring gentleman's head flings to the side, and he spots the brunette standing on the glass patio. A grin curls on m
y lips when the two race to each other, crashing into each other's arms in the middle of the living area. The suit-clad man pulls the brunette in close to his chest before he takes a seat on one of the white leather sofas in Hunter's living room.

  “You need to record that,” mutters Pepper, her voice sounding as transfixed as my eyes are. “The sparks firing off those two would make a heart-stopping read.”

  I nod, even though Pepper can’t see me. There's no denying the attraction between the two gorgeous specimens. It's earth-shattering. I’ve never been much of a crying Nancy, but their closeness is compelling a set of tears to form in my eyes.

  “I have to go.” I turn my phone screen back to me. “I can’t record them and talk to you at the same time.”

  “Go!” Pepper overemphasizes, excitement heard in her voice.

  After air-blowing a farewell kiss to Pepper, I disconnect the call and activate the record function on my phone. The blood pumping through my body thickens with excitement, knowing without a doubt I'm in the process of capturing a unique moment between the starring couple of my next alpha male romance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Three days later…

  “Check the hidden compartment inside your suitcase.”

  I press my phone in nearer to my ear as I saunter to my half-unpacked suitcase in the main suite of the rental cabin. A clink of laughter spills from my lips when I slide open the zipper of the hidden compartment in my bursting-at-the-seams suitcase.

  "Pepper!" I scoff, my tongue clicking against my teeth. "I think a rodent got into my suitcase on the flight over, as most of the material on this outfit has been compromised.”

  "It supposed to be like that." Just from her tone, I can tell she's rolling her eyes. "It's a crotchless lace teddy."

  "Yeah, I worked that out when I noticed the entire crotch was missing.” I snarl, flopping onto the bed. “Why in the world did you sneak that into my suitcase?”

  I turn my eyes to the ceiling as Pepper’s contagious laughter barrels down the line.