Naughty Neighbor: Falling for a Libra (Falling for the Stars)

by Lauren Runow

  With my hands on his chest, I feel his body—hard and strong—vibrate with a groan that has me lifting my chin. His mouth finds my jaw and places openmouthed kisses along my skin.

  The break in contact is enough to have me leaning back. Our breathing is ragged as we pull away. I’m looking down, wondering how a simple kiss turned into … well, that.

  We’re nothing but labored breaths and swollen lips as I lift my head, seeing his furrowed brow as he looks at me with amused surprise.

  I blink a few times, realizing what just happened.

  “So, that was for TikTok?” he asks with a tilted head.

  I nod.

  He looks to the side and grins. “Did you get what you needed?”

  I nod again.

  “Are you happy with how your video turned out?”

  Because I’m a woman of many words, I nod for a third time.

  “I’m gonna go now.” I rise from the couch and march through his apartment, out the door, and straight into my own, slamming the door and leaning against it.

  “Well?” Charisse asks when she sees my expression that I’m sure is like I just saw a ghost.

  “We definitely cannot post that video!” I state as I adamantly shake my head.

  Melody and Charisse both stare at each other in question.

  “That bad?” Charisse asks.

  I hold up my hands in front of me. “I need a minute. I’m trying to figure out why the best kiss of my entire life just happened with the hot guy next door while I was fulfilling a freaking internet challenge.”

  A knock comes from behind me.

  I freeze and listen as Jake’s deep voice echoes from the other side. “You forgot your phone.”

  I close my eyes as I pull myself together. Outwardly, of course, because, inside, I’m a heart-pounding mess.

  Pushing my shoulders back, I lift my chin and open the door as coolly and calmly as possible. Jake’s standing here with a Cheshire cat grin, holding my phone out to me.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  I’m about to close the door when he puts an arm out, keeping me from shutting it.

  “And, Lace,” he says, and I hold my breath. “It’s called the Kissing Best Friend Challenge.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  He grins. “We’re not best friends, so I suggest, when you post it, you change the caption.”

  “To what?”

  “I just had the best kiss of my life with the guy who lives next door.” He winks and then turns. He heads into his apartment and closes the door gingerly.

  I slide open my phone, ready to hit the Delete button on the video when I see my text messages are open. Jake forwarded the video to himself.

  I close the door and turn to Melody and Charisse, who are staring at me with slack jaws and wide eyes.

  That is, until Charisse throws her arms up in the air and declares, “Best. Freaking. Idea. Ever.”

  Melody rolls her eyes and then grins in my direction. “It was a really bad idea … but a really, really good one too.”

  I’m not only screwed. I’m also twisted.

  Chapter Ten

  Whatever my feelings are about that kiss last night—which, trust me, I have many feelings about that kiss—there is one thing that’s for sure: it lit a fire in my belly.

  Charisse and Melody left soon after, and I couldn’t sleep. Hell, I couldn’t sit, but I made myself.

  Opening up my laptop, I stared at the screen for a mere second before I started typing.

  The words flowed easily, my fingers dancing rapidly along the keys. My brain was raging like wildfire, and I couldn’t type fast enough. I’d never written so much, so fast.

  The characters came alive off the page. The hero is a sensitive yet charismatic artist who finds joy in the simple pleasures of life. The heroine is a schoolteacher who is afraid of being hurt again.

  Their connection is intense, and their romance is pure magic.

  I give all the credit to that kiss.

  Last night, Jake ignited this thing in me. I can still taste the mint of his tongue and smell the fresh scent of his cologne. My hands burn with the touch of his heated, soft skin, and damn, my body is still reeling from the sensations that were shooting through me.

  I used him as my muse. Hell, my hero’s hair even morphed from brown to blond, and those blue eyes are now a chocolate brown. I praise myself for never fully explaining him in previous books so I can change him now.

  I used everything I find most charming about Jake and put it in these scenes, flourishing a hero unlike any other. The literary prowess was alive last night, and I was a creative machine.

  Until now.

  I’ve hit a freaking wall.

  Again.

  The first time the couple met—which was epic, by the way—came easily, and their physical connection is heart-pounding. Now, I need them to start building their love connection. It’s the get to know you more than just physically phase of the relationship. I have no idea what to have them do next.

  Maybe I’m just tired. Plus, I stink from the adrenaline. I need to regroup.

  In the shower, I try to think about my story line. Some ideas come to me, but they’re not solid. I can picture a good scene, yet I don’t know how to get there. I can’t figure out how it will play into the story. Everything that’s coming to me is fluff, and there’s no meat there. No angst. No grit. No panic of the heart from wondering, Will they or won’t they be together?

  After my shower, I make myself some coffee—only because if I open wine I know I won’t get anything done—and sit back down, pulling my laptop up to me. I read over what I wrote, as that sometimes sparks some ideas. When I get to the end of the last scene, I still have nothing.

  The knock at the door stirs me from my seat. There’s only one person who knocks without having to be buzzed in first, and that man just so happens to be someone I was hoping not to face today. At least, not yet. I still need time to process the state of our friendship.

  As I walk to the door, I pray it’s not awkward.

  When I open it, I see Jake standing in the hallway. My heart instantly starts to pitter-patter just from the sight of him, but I push it aside. Friends don’t make friends’ hearts go pitter-patter.

  “Hi,” I say.

  Tiny lines crinkle the sides of his eyes as he smirks. “Hey.”

  The first thing I look at is that cocky mouth. Hot damn. Then, I gaze at his hands. Man hands. And of course, there’s that chest. I really need to get out of the house more often.

  There’s a pause between us, and I’m afraid it’s going to get weird. It was a sinfully delicious kiss, but it was just a kiss. We’re adults. Heck, we’re even friends. We can move on like mature adult friends. Right?

  Thankfully, he speaks up again, “You never posted the video.”

  I laugh out loud. “Are you looking for your fifteen seconds of fame?”

  “Hey, I’m just here to support your career in any way I can. If I have to kiss you a thousand times so you sell books, then count me in. I want to be friends with a famous person.”

  “Are you just using me for my fame?” I feign shocked.

  “Absolutely. When they make a movie of your book, I’m going to be on the red carpet. I look really good in a tux.”

  “Well, since the fate of the world seeing you in a tux is on the line, then I suppose I could post the video. Just for you though.” I grin in his direction as I walk away to grab my phone. He enters my apartment behind me. “Do you have social media? I can tag you.”

  “I have Facebook, which I don’t use often. I get why you like it though. It’s a great way to interact with your readers. I’m sure they love it.”

  “I’ve made some great friends on the amazing World Wide Web.”

  I upload the video while neither of us says a word.

  When I post it, I glance back up at him, and he grins.

  “Are you hungry? I was just about to head out for something to eat. Want to join me?
”

  I take a deep breath in and nod my head. “You know what? An early dinner sounds like a great idea. Just give me twenty minutes.”

  His face lights up when I say yes, but I try not to read into it. Dinner with a friend might help clear my head right now with work and set us back on the right track in our relationship.

  I do a quick blowout of my hair and add some makeup. Taking a cue from his jeans and button-down, I slide on a pair of ripped jeans, a sleeveless tank, and ballet flats, grabbing a light jacket before we exit my apartment together.

  We head down the street to an Italian place that I love. It’s super casual with counter-style ordering. I select the ravioli while he peruses the menu for a while before deciding on a sausage sandwich. With a bottle of Chianti, we grab a seat on their patio outside.

  As he pours my glass, he asks, “So, how’s the book coming along?”

  “Really well actually.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “What about you? No hot date lined up tonight?”

  “I thought you were my date,” he teases.

  “If I were your date, I most definitely would have dressed nicer.”

  “You mean, like put on a little gold dress?”

  I press my fingers to my forehead and groan. “Please don’t remind me about the worst date in history. I don’t go out with a guy in years, and when I do, it’s a waste of a perfectly good dress.”

  He grins. “Let’s not mourn the dress too much. I’m sure we can revitalize it. I’d be happy to take you dancing.”

  “Hmm, I see. You’ll only take me out if I get all dressed up. I know your type, Jake Moreau. I’ve seen the women who come traipsing in and out of your apartment. You have definitely gone for the same kind of girl.”

  “First, I’m out with you this very minute. Second, you’ve looked the same since I first met you, and I still come around. Obviously, looks aren’t a big deal to me.”

  My eyes open wide in shock at the way he just said that.

  He shakes his head, letting out a big laugh. “That did not sound as bad in my head. I promise.”

  “It kind of did, but you’re off the hook. I don’t have an aversion to loungewear.”

  “And that did not distract me from enjoying that kiss last night.”

  I scrunch my eyes closed in embarrassment. “Is it possible for us to ignore that?”

  “For now. But not forever.” He laughs, and I peek an eye open to see his charming grin. “I’ll let you off the hook under one condition: you tell me why you haven’t gone out with a man in years.”

  I groan. Of the two topics—talking about my ambush kiss or talking about Michael—I’m having a hard time choosing the least cringeworthy.

  “I moved to the city with my college sweetheart, only to have him ditch me for an Insta yoga instructor.”

  “Is that why you never date? Besides that last guy who—”

  “Was a complete ass and reminded me why I don’t trust men. That would be correct.”

  “Not all men are slime. Some can be quite chivalrous.”

  “I can’t seem to find the rare few. How can you tell the difference between the good ones and those who just want to get in your pants?”

  “Trust me, all men want to get in your pants. We’re pretty simple that way. It’s just a matter of if you’re okay with it being casual or if you want something more. In that case, it’s key to communicate that to the man you’re seeing.” His lips twist to the side while his eyebrows pinch together. “I take it, there have been no one-night stands in your life?”

  I shake my head while I take a bite of my ravioli. “Nope.”

  “And you’re how old?” he asks with surprise.

  “Why is that so hard to believe? Sorry I’ve never met a guy and slept with him right away.” I laugh.

  He nods slowly. “I have. I mean, with a woman, that is. Does that make you look at me differently?”

  A sharp laugh escapes my lips. “You do realize, I live next door to you, and our walls aren’t as thick as they should be. There’s not much you can hide from me. Even the first time I met you, you were walking a girl out after a sleepover.”

  His shoulders fall like it’s something he’s suddenly ashamed of. I try to stop his reaction.

  “Hey, what you do with all of that”—I motion my hand up and down his body—“is your choice. No judgment here. I love sex. Really, I do. I’m just picky about who I have it with.”

  “Because they might leave you for an Insta yoga instructor.”

  “Among other things.” I stab a ravioli and pop it into my mouth. “Tell me, where do you find these girls?”

  He gives me a deadpan stare. “You act like I run a brothel from my house. There hasn’t been that many girls.”

  I give him the same stare. “You’re testing the waters while you find the future Mrs. Moreau. What do you do?”

  He takes a bite of his food and sits back in his chair like he’s really thinking about it. “I guess it all depends. I don’t want you to think I’m this guy who goes out, searching for girls just to get laid.”

  “All men are simpleminded creatures though.”

  I’m laughing at my joke, but he’s not. His look is stoic and kind of wistful.

  “I would like to settle down someday, contrary to what my mom says. I just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

  “Then, maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” I say before taking a sip of my wine.

  He purses his lips and nods, staring straight into my eyes. “I’m beginning to think the same thing.”

  A shiver runs down my spine at the sound of his deep, husky voice.

  “Let me ask you this then. If you did meet this woman, what is the perfect date? You said, it’s all about showing that you listen to what they want. Where do you take a woman when you’re ready to show her what you want?

  Waving a finger, he laughs. “Oh no, I’m not giving away my secrets.”

  My mouth forms an O in amusement. “It’s a secret, you say? Now, I’m intrigued.”

  “A man never reveals his hidden corners of the world.”

  Crossing my legs, I stare off to the side in enjoyment and then look back with a non-convinced shake of my head. “It’s probably something like a little French bistro off the beaten path.”

  “Where the owner plays the accordion and sings in his foreign tongue?”

  I lift my glass to him. “Knew it! You’re so easy to peg.”

  He shakes his head with a laugh. “That’s not it at all.”

  “Then, you don’t really have a place. If you did, you’d be gloating about it right now. The most romantic spot in all of Chicago, just for you and that special girl.”

  “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

  “I had you marked the first day I saw you in that towel.”

  The mention of the day we met has him lifting a brow. “Think about that often, do you?”

  I turn away because I hate lying while looking someone in the eye. “Never.”

  A wicked grin graces his lips as he leans forward. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”`

  “Working. Beyond office hours. I have pages to send to my agent by Friday.”

  “Call it a day at eight. After that, you’re mine.”

  Now, it’s my turn to quirk a brow. “Huh?”

  “We’re going on a date, Lace.”

  Chapter Eleven

  On the shore of Lake Michigan is the dome-shaped concrete building of the Adler Planetarium. I’m not sure what time the planetarium is open, but from experience, museums are always closed by six. What he plans on doing around here is beyond me.

  “Are we going for a walk?” I look out at the cityscape in the foreground.

  “No. We’re going inside.”

  “There are no cars in the lot. Pretty sure this place is closed.”

  His expression splits into the biggest smile. “You are pretty. And you are correct.”

  “I kne
w you were trouble, Moreau, but breaking and entering? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  He laughs as he gets out of the car. “You really do have an active imagination.”

  I follow him up the steps of the historic building. His excitement as we approach the planetarium is enough to pull at my heartstrings.

  A gentleman in a pair of khaki pants and a red polo opens the door, greeting Jake warmly.

  “Lacey, this is my buddy Kent. He’s a telescope facilitator.”

  “There are few people who I’d give a private viewing to, and this guy is one of them,” Kent says with a smile.

  Jake leans in. “He’s only being nice because I’m giving him the friends-and-family discount on his wedding arrangements.”

  Kent laughs. “My fiancée has very expensive taste.”

  We walk inside and follow Kent through a uniquely shaped hall with vibrant lighting and interactive, motion-sensing displays. He gives us a mini tour of the facility. It’s fun to roam around the exhibits without a map and have the information explained to us as we walk. We can’t see everything because Kent is only able to open certain parts, but what we’re viewing is spectacular. I crane my neck as I stare at giant replicas of the planets hanging from the ceiling.

  When we get to a display that shows us the Chicago night sky, Kent leaves us alone to explore on our own.

  I turn to Jake. “There’s an episode of Friends where Ross takes Rachel on an after-hours date to the planetarium. It’s my favorite.”

  “I’m no Ross Geller, but I do know a thing or two about stars.” He walks with his hands behind his back as we look around. “You can see forty-five hundred stars with the naked eye. And what we see are images that have traveled light-years. Many of the stars we see today might not even be there anymore.”

  “Seriously?”

  “We’re seeing the reflection of the sun bouncing off the stars, but they are so far away, and light only travels so fast that we’re actually seeing a reflection from years ago. They might still be there just like we see, but many have already exploded. We don’t know yet.”

  “That’s really fascinating.” I follow him as he points out different star maps.

  “This month, if you look south or southwest, Jupiter and Saturn are readily visible. You probably wouldn’t even know you were looking at them. Jupiter is the brighter of the two. If you can find it, you’ll see the constellation Sagittarius, and next to it is the S-shaped Scorpius. And this reddish star is Antares. It’s the heart of Scorpius.”