Bossy Neighbor

by Erika Lynn

  But that wave quickly passed, and I focused on the other two people in the group.

  I held out my hand. “Sam.” We greeted each other. Sam with his big smile and outgoing personality pulled me in and slapped me on the back in return.

  “Glad you could make it,” he joked, no hint of malice anywhere to be found.

  Then I turned to Joel and held out my hand again. “Thank you for calling me.” Despite my suspicions, I carried on as if everything was just fine.

  Sam clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

  We followed as Sam pointed out different aspects of the site, showing us where some of the ardent protestors had set up shop, on the corner of a busy intersection, and where the team was getting ready to break ground.

  I asked numerous questions during the tour, noticing that Kate scribbled down the answers every time.

  After offering my input, I once again shook Sam’s hand and headed to the town car. “You coming?” I asked both Kate and Joel, the latter of whom quickly made an excuse that he had plans to meet a friend for lunch downtown.

  Kate had no such excuse. “Let’s go,” I said, my hand temporarily finding the small of her back, guiding her in the right direction. Over her shoulder she gave me an odd look and mumbled something about Jekyll and Hyde.

  I stifled a grin.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  If only she weren’t my neighbor.

  If only she weren’t my assistant.

  Both of those things complicated matters.

  And I didn’t need any more distractions or complications.

  Kate was definitely both.

  Things were awkward between us as we made the drive back to the office. Our heads buried in our phones, neither of us saying anything to the other.

  It was as if you could feel the unspoken words. The words we both needed to say, to explain last night.

  To assuage the feeling of discomfort.

  To admit the truth.

  Or at least my truth. I was interested as hell in the woman sitting next to me and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Just as we were pulling up to the curve of Inferno Construction, Kate asked if I wanted anything from The Coffee Library. She nodded, accepting when I said no, then without another word, we went our separate ways.

  My fingers itched to touch her again, as I watched her departing figure, her body tightly packed into the pencil skirt and blouse set that highlighted her luscious red locks and her long legs.

  She might be short, but that didn’t stop her from having a great pair of stems that I desperately wanted wrapped around my waist as I drilled into her.

  A passerby ran into me, disrupting my imaginations.

  I placed my hands in my pockets to subtly adjust myself as I made my way to my office, ready to focus on ferreting out Joel in his attempts to disrupt my work and subvert my leadership of Inferno Construction.

  KATE

  My afternoon pick-me-up did nothing to quell my nerves. In fact, the extra caffeine was probably a bad idea. More wired than ever, I bounced through the rest of the workday, avoiding the surly Dante as best I could.

  At least I was finally able to eat.

  As soon as five o’clock rolled around, I packed my things and made a beeline towards the elevator.

  I looked surreptitiously over my shoulder, making sure Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody didn’t somehow follow me out.

  “Phew,” I said as the elevators opened and I ran inside, repeatedly pushing the close button like a crazy person, garnering a few stares from the others in the square metal box.

  When I exited the building without running into Dante, I heaved a sigh of relief. In my heels, I slowed down my pace as I made my way to the bar Quinn worked at.

  Only when I opened the door to The Tavern did I truly relax. With its brick archways, and low lighting, the ambiance straddled sexy and cool. Fortunately, I looked like I fit right in with my outfit, even if I didn’t feel it on the inside. While I didn’t lack confidence, there was always something about this place that seemed unreachable.

  But it meant Quinn could rake in the tips as a bartender, serving middle-to-upper-class clientele.

  Snagging the stool at the end of the bar, I nodded my head at Quinn when she peered over her martini shaker to give me a wink, letting me know she saw me arrive.

  When she finally had a break in customers, she handed me a glass of Merlot and hunched over the bar so that we could talk privately.

  “Not sure how long I have to talk, it’s getting pretty busy tonight,” Quinn said. Just then a group of colleagues walked through the entrance, laughing boisterously. “So, you have to tell me everything quickly.”

  I spilled all the salacious details. My mouth ran a million miles an hour as I filled her in on me running late for our dinner, Dante switching our plans to eat at his place and the kiss that somehow occurred at the end of the night.

  I palmed my chin in my hand, my gaze lost in the wine swirling in front of me. “But that’s not the worst part,” I said, speech suddenly failing me.

  Quinn checked to make sure the newcomers were being taken care of by her colleague. An overwhelmed glance towards our side of the bar indicated that the other bartender did not in fact have it covered.

  “Damn,” Quinn swore. “What happened? Hurry,” she motioned with her hand to have me get on with it.

  “Well, I texted him this morning thinking I was texting you,” I started. Her eyes went wide. “I may have mentioned how swoon-worthy the kiss had been and how nervous I was to see him.” I cringed recalling the painful moment I realized it was Dante I had texted and not my best friend.

  One loud snort emitted from Quinn, then she threw back her head and laughed.

  I shot her a look that said I wasn’t amused.

  Quinn just rolled her eyes. She bounced a little, checking on her coworker again. “Listen, I’ll be right back.” She lifted a finger, walking backwards to the group that just walked into The Tavern.

  I downed my drink in a few sips, waiting as Quinn quickly slung together a few fancy signature cocktails.

  Eventually, she came back over, sliding one of those cocktails in my direction.

  I held my hand out. “You know I don’t do hard liquor, especially on a work night.”

  Quinn shook her head theatrically. “Special circumstances.” She shoved the drink so it sat right in front of me, then picked up my empty wine glass and placed it somewhere under the bar.

  “Drink up, buttercup,” she said with a sly smile.

  I narrowed my eyes at her, debating it. “Oh, fuck it,” I said, bringing the refreshing looking cocktail to my lips. It tasted delicious. “What is that?”

  “Vodka and grapefruit juice,” she said, leaning against the bar. “And about five other fancy ingredients. Now tell me the rest of the story.”

  I dropped my other elbow to the bar top and placed my hands over my face, my eyes peering through the openings between my fingers.

  “He asked me to go to his office when I got to work. We basically both agreed we’d made a mistake and then he told me to get out. Things have been frosty ever since.”

  Quinn clicked her tongue. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

  I dropped my hands long enough to whack her.

  “Hey, that hurt,” she said, clutching her upper arm.

  “You deserved it,” I informed her.

  She just shrugged in agreement. “So, what happens now? You have sex and get this weirdness out of your system?”

  My jaw practically hit the floor just as a flush came over my body. As much as I might want to act on that impulse, it was much more Quinn’s M.O. than mine. “That’s what you would do. That’s a Quinn response to a man problem. Not a Kate response.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “Well, make it a Kate response,” she encouraged. “What have you got to lose?” she asked, crossing her arms.

  I looked at her like the crazy woman that she was. “Uh, just my jo
b. Did you forget he’s my boss?”

  She waved me off. “Eh, he’s your hot boss. I doubt he’d fire you. You’re indispensable.”

  I reached over the counter and grabbed one of those tiny red stir straws so I’d have something to fiddle with. Stirring my cocktail, I shook my head. “You don’t understand, Quinn. I need this job. I don’t have any backup plan. I make good money. I’m getting good experience.” I paused, thinking about how Victor taught me so much, making me more than just your run-of-the-mill admin assistant. I’d never be content to be like Jeanine. I needed more than that.

  Quinn twisted her lips in thought. “Well, he’s only your temporary boss if that makes you feel better.”

  Just then her coworker shouted for some help. Quinn winced, giving me a guilty look. “Gotta go!”

  I watched her prepare more drinks, discretely dropping off another cocktail when I had finished with my last one.

  While I sat there stewing, I scrolled through my phone attempting to be a productive member of society by catching up on the news, but then ended up reading about Harry and Meghan instead.

  What? It happens.

  Curious, and perhaps a little masochistic, I opened my work email to see if I had any messages from Dante.

  A pang of disappointment clamored in my chest when I found none. Just a couple junk emails, newsletters and calendar items for upcoming meetings.

  Using two tiny red straws I sucked my latest cocktail dry.

  My body felt more relaxed than ever.

  I needed more cocktails in my life. Why did I always stick to boring and predictable red wine?

  I should tell Quinn I needed more cocktails in my life, starting right now.

  I waved frantically. “Quinn. Quinn. Quinn.” I started a hypnotic chant trying to get my best friend’s attention.

  When she caught me, she shook her head and laughed, holding up a finger to let me know it would be a minute.

  Needing something now, I lifted up out of my barstool and leaned over the counter to see if there was anything within reach.

  “Uh, what are you doing Kate?” Quinn said on a hearty laugh.

  Like a kid caught looking for Christmas presents on December 24, I assumed a wide-eyed expression of complete innocence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about,” I said, my words jumbling together.

  Was I slurring?

  Nah.

  Quinn set a cocktail in front of me and I clapped my hands together in excitement. “Yes!” I lifted it to my lips, sighing as the cool cucumber hit my tongue. That’s new. I guess Quinn was mixing it up.

  “You okay there, lady?” Quinn asked me in amusement.

  Placing my hand on my chest I said, “Who me? I’m great.” As she turned to leave, I reached out and grabbed Quinn’s hand. “More cocktails for me!”

  With a squeeze she said, “You are cut off, my dear. As it is, future Kate is going to kill me for getting her drunk.”

  “Pu-cha,” I countered. “Future Kate sounds like a buzzkill.”

  “Maybe I should have cut you off sooner,” Quinn whispered under her breath, but my supersonic hearing caught it anyway.

  “I’m great, I promise!” I said, lifting my hands in the air like I was doing a victory dance. I took a final sip of my drink. “Listen, I gotta go home.” But Quinn refused to let me leave before downing two glasses of water.

  “Promise you will drink another glass of this when you get home?” She asked. “And text me when you get there?”

  “I promise,” I said, holding out my pinky finger.

  ***

  It took a million years to get home. Or at least it felt like a million years. “Thank God,” I said as the elevator spat me out on my floor.

  I walked to my door and tried to open it, but it was locked. “Oh yeah, keys.” I giggled then proceeded to dump the entire contents of my purse on the ground to look for them.

  “Mmm bop, buh deep a dop...” I started singing when the door in front of me suddenly opened, sending me tumbling so I fell on my ass. “What the hell?”

  I tilted my head back, my neck straining to take in the tall figure in front of me. Ugh, it was Dante.

  “What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Mr. Inferno?”

  A rumbling chuckle passed his lips. “You mean my apartment, Ms. Kincaid,” he said, his voice gruffer than ever. He pointed to the door next to the one I was in front of. “I believe that one belongs to you.” Dante smiled, then bent down and started putting things away in my purse, his hand stopping just short of picking up a tampon. Unused, of course, but still one of the scariest things a man could touch.

  Wimps.

  Finding my keys, he held them out to me. “I think you are looking for these.”

  I snatched them away from him, our hands touching accidentally.

  When the last of my belongings were in my purse, I stormed past Dante, right into his apartment.

  Throwing down my purse, I pointed an accusing finger at him. “What the hell was that all about this morning?”

  Slowly closing the door behind him, Dante ignored me, walking past me to the couch.

  I huffed in annoyance, then turned and placed my hand on my hip in what I hoped screamed “power stance”.

  On the coffee table I noticed a bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty tumbler. I watched as Dante poured himself two fingers worth of whiskey then drained it in one fell swoop.

  A tad wobbly, I headed to the couch to join him. “I see you are drinking.”

  Finally paying attention to me he said, “It seems you got a head start.”

  Only then did I notice how closely we were sitting. Me practically on top of him. My knee digging into his thick thigh, my shoulder leaning into his. I could smell his woodsy aftershave. Briefly, I closed my eyes, relishing in the smell.

  “Did you just smell me?” He asked.

  I leaned back slightly and looked at him through hooded eyes. “Nope.”

  I could tell he didn’t quite believe me.

  But I wanted to move things on.

  I smacked him on his arm. “So, what was that all about this morning? Mr. Hot and Cold?”

  His Adam’s Apple bobbed. “We agreed to forget about last night, remember?”

  I nodded for far too long. Then I shook my head. “Yes, but I was supposed to try and forget it and you were supposed to think about nothing but kissing me. That’s how things were supposed to go down.”

  He lifted a brow in that way he does. “Is that so?” Dante kept his face decidedly blank. The bastard.

  My body rebounded and I found myself moving closer and closer to him.

  Starting to sober up, I now realized his eyes were a bit glassy. Probably a mirror of my own.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Well, have you been thinking about me?” I pressed him with both my words and my body.

  He scooted back just slightly, but it didn’t deter me.

  Finding courage from Quinn’s cocktails, I rounded on him until I stood in front of him, my arms on either side of his head, digging into the couch to form a cage.

  He swallowed harder this time then ran his hand through the scruff on his chin, the rough sound sending shivers down my spine.

  I watched as his baby blues trailed over my mouth, followed by the rest of my body. When at last he licked his lips, I knew he was just as affected as me.

  My pulse jackhammered in my chest. I’d be surprised if Dante couldn’t hear it. It filled my ears as I made my decision.

  I closed the gap between us, climbing on top of Dante. Lifting my skirt, I sank down onto his jean clad lap.

  I released a breathy sigh.

  Dante released a burning hiss.

  My pussy clenched at the contact. We were fully clothed but that didn’t matter, the friction between us creating a mind numbing high for me and if I had to guess, for Dante too.

  So much friction we might ignite.

  My skin aflame, I started tugging at the shirt tucked into his
pants as I leaned in to capture his lips. I stopped my pursuit as he sat there, frozen for all of a second before capturing my lips in return. My stomach dropped during that second, but then recovered quickly at his eagerness.

  The hardening length beneath me made any lingering doubt that Dante didn’t want me vanish without a trace.

  My hands resumed their tugging, needing to see more of him, needing to touch him. To feel his taut body underneath mine.

  Off came his shirt. My blouse shortly thereafter.

  Dante paused at my sudden near nakedness. His hands splayed across my flat stomach, massaging their way to my heavy breasts that were aching to be touched by him.

  I arched as his hands explored the contours of my body. A desperate need to see him as well flooded through me once again.

  His torso was every bit as fit as I imagined lying in bed last night. His muscles rippled, carved out of him from manual labor, not hours spent at the gym.

  And his tan was a gorgeous shade of bronze that clashed with my fair skin.

  One of Dante’s hands ran up the back of my neck, pulling me down to resume our kissing. He groaned as I ground into him, needing more.

  Needing all of him.

  Just like this, with me on top.

  My fingers went to his buckle, and when they fumbled, he helped me out. Releasing his grasp from my neck to unbutton himself one-handed.

  We didn’t break our kiss, not until I said, “On the count of three.” I took a sobering pause. “I’m going to lift up and you are going to lower your pants.” I ground into him some more, the rough texture of the jeans applying just the right amount of pressure against my satin panty covered pussy.

  The hand around my waist tightened. “Yes.”

  I purred, loving the pressure of his body everywhere it met mine.

  “One.” Grind.

  “Two,” he said with me riding him again.

  “Three,” we said together. I ground into him before lifting my hips, his hands dropping to lower his pants just enough to access what we needed.

  I tried to grind again, but my skirt made a ripping noise, no longer able to stretch. “This is coming off,” said Dante, whose fingers deftly found the zipper in the back, lowering it quickly so that the fabric was ready to be removed from my body.