by Ranae Rose
He barely heard a word the anchor said. As the sound of rushing water came from down the hall, all he could think about was Alicia standing naked in his shower. His thoughts quickly escalated to the point that he feared he’d have to sit on his hands to keep from touching his dick. She stayed in the shower for a long time, and when the sound of running water finally stopped, he was hard as granite.
He tried to think of cold and ice – snow, though he’d never seen much of it in North Carolina. Those chilling thoughts did little to quell his erection, so he settled for quickly repositioning the stiffness tenting the front of his jeans and hoping she wouldn’t notice it in its slightly less obvious position.
The minute she walked back into the living room – dressed in her shorts and tank top again, but with her hair and skin still damp – he knew he’d been an idiot. Her hazel eyes flickered toward his lap briefly but immediately, and though she said nothing, he knew she’d noticed – it was obvious.
Heat rushed through him when she settled back down on the couch, right beside him. He knew now that it’d just been because of the chills, but he couldn’t help reliving the moment when she’d tipped her head back against his chest, sighing.
He about jumped out of his skin when a knock came at the door.
For a few seconds, adrenaline rushed through his system, presenting him with images from his workday and the latest news reports: blood on the ground, killers on the loose. Every threat an inmate had ever made against him came crashing down on his consciousness, remembered in bitter clarity, and then it hit him … he’d ordered pizza.
“That must be dinner,” he said, and rose to answer the door.
Sure enough, it was the ham and pineapple pie he’d ordered, fragrant and more than big enough to feed two people. He paid the delivery guy and locked the door before returning to the living room.
“Mmm.” Alicia sat up a little straighter on the couch. “That smells good.”
He popped the pizza box open and set it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. It did smell good, and the aroma caused him to realize exactly how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten in … well, he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d eaten. Adrenaline from work and then thoughts of Alicia had kept ordinary needs like hunger at bay, until now.
Not that he wasn’t still thinking of Alicia. He was; not even one of his all-time favorite foods could touch the part of his mind she’d claimed – albeit unknowingly – as her own.
“You were right about ham and pineapple pizza,” she said when they’d both finished a slice each and picked up a second.
He nodded. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” He took a moment to study her face, relieved to see that there was no hint of blue tinging her lips. A tiny dot of sauce at one corner of her mouth, but no blueness. “How do you feel?”
“Not so cold, now that I’ve had a shower.” She frowned, cradling an extra-large slice of pizza in one hand. “Sorry if I freaked you out.” She glanced over her shoulder, toward the hall.
“It’s all right.” Yeah, she’d rattled him, but he was glad she’d been at his place when it’d happened. At least this way, if anything else went wrong, she wouldn’t be alone. Maybe it had just been a freak cold chill, but his gut told him that wasn’t right, and he was prepared to step in if she got sick or something. It occurred to him that she might be showing early signs of the flu … not likely this time of year, but possible.
“Between this, my ghost stories and the number of times you’ve seen me fall down stairs, you must think I’m a basket case.” She laughed, folding her slice of pizza so that the pineapple and ham toppings were hidden by golden-brown crust dripping with mozzarella.
Her laugh was infectious. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard it. She was gorgeous but didn’t seem to take herself too seriously. She wasn’t laidback, exactly, but she was easy to be around. She looked just as at-home in her cute shorts and tank top as she did in her classy work outfits. “You’re a lot more interesting than my last neighbor, that’s for sure.”
He’d meant it as a joke – though it was true – but his voice came out a little too serious, a little too rough. The maddening desire he felt every time he looked at her seemed to be simmering to the surface, manifesting itself in the form of looks that were too serious, words he meant more than she could probably imagine. Not to mention the hard-on he knew he hadn’t succeeded in hiding from her.
“Likewise,” she said. “My old neighbors were only interesting when they were being awful, and that wasn’t a good kind of interesting.”
He breathed a silent sigh of relief, his ego inflating a little as her words registered. “Glad to know I’m the good kind, then.”
She looked him right in the eye. “Oh, you definitely are.”
She leaned in closer to him, and his heart leapt right into his throat, beating hard.
* * * * *
Every last one of Alicia’s nerves was on fire, tingling with anticipation. Whether it was of something good or bad, she couldn’t say – both, probably. The past day had put her through the wringer, emotionally – she’d been so worried for Liam and his friends, and then so relieved to discover that they were all okay, save for Henry’s sprained ankle. And then there’d been the hormonal rollercoaster ride that her past hour at Liam’s house had proven to be.
She’d touched herself in his shower – let her fingers slide over her own slick skin as she’d stood in the same place she’d watched him climb into so many times. She’d used his soap, breathing in its scent as the mirror had steamed, along with the window she’d watched him through most mornings. When she’d gotten out, she’d realized he must be in the habit of showering with the door open – the window had never fogged up when she’d watched him.
She’d shut the door … reluctantly. Desperate to warm up after her bout of unexplained chills, she’d turned the water on as hot as it would go. As soon as she’d stopped shaking, her thoughts had turned to Liam.
God, it’d felt good to feel his hands on her body – to melt against him, even if it’d only been for a minute. She’d figured her time in the shower would take the edge off her lust, but it’d done anything but. Having an orgasm in his shower – even if he hadn’t been directly involved – had been a thrill. Now, she wanted him more than ever, and he was only a foot away from her on the couch.
He also had an obvious erection, which she hadn’t been able to help noticing as soon as she’d entered the room. That made it clear: he wanted her too. The realization – the proof – was intoxicating.
She didn’t want to think about the Levinson brothers or how dangerous Liam’s job was. She didn’t want to think about the past week’s weird events or the incident that’d given her chills so violent that even his touch hadn’t been able to dispel them. She only wanted to think about him – wanted to touch and taste the man who’d been haunting her fantasies, who’d cared so much about her simple shivering that he’d been ready to drive her to the hospital. She’d laughed, but it’d been sweet. So sweet she hadn’t known what else to do.
Now, a gut feeling told her exactly what she should do now. After all, she knew he was a worrier – knew he was probably sitting there in agony, his hard cock pressing against his jeans in what looked like painful confinement, worrying that she didn’t want him to make a serious move, for some reason. As if she wasn’t dying to touch him, too.
She went with her gut feeling and kissed him, abandoning her half-eaten pizza slice before leaning across the cushion to press her lips to his. It was a brazen move, but it was hard not to feel completely confident when he was sitting there with an obvious hard-on that conjured up thoughts of Sasha’s flippant ‘cucumber country’ remarks.
Something fell to the floor with a muted splat – his pizza slice, presumably. It was quickly forgotten.
He tasted like pineapple and tangy sauce, and he felt like heaven – his lips hot against hers, alternatingly firm and soft as he responded with alacrity, taking control
of the kiss before she could so much as exhale. Before she knew it he’d settled his hands on her hips and was pulling her into his lap like she weighed nothing – like he’d practiced the move in his mind a hundred times over already.
Maybe he had. God knew she’d fantasized about him more times than she could count. The reality was even better than she’d imagined: he held onto her like he’d never let go, and kissed her like he’d been waiting for this moment for an eternity. Their tongues tangled together as she straddled his thighs, melting against the front of his body.
CHAPTER 11
His chest was hard, and his cock even harder. She could feel it through his jeans, through her shorts. Shifting against it, she let her body rub against the shaft. There – let that show him that she had no objections to this, to all the things she’d been dreaming about since the first time she’d laid eyes on him.
Though she’d been lusting for him ever since she’d caught her first accidental peek at his morning shower routine, recent events had been like fuel to her fire: there was nothing like fearing for his life to destroy any shyness she’d felt before.
She wanted to have him safe and to herself, wanted to feel his touch drive away all the things that had left her chilled, proving that her senses could still be trusted. Most of all, she wanted him for who he was: the neighbor who’d lend her a cup of sugar and repair her window, who’d sleep on the couch just to keep her comfortable and safe.
All those wishes were fulfilled as he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her so close against his body that she could feel his heart beat. It was the most exhilarating thing she could ever remember experiencing: the percussion of his perfect body so close against hers, his vital signs radiating into her. She ran her hands through his short hair – or tried to, anyway – as he buried a hand in hers, seizing a fistful of her locks as he kissed her even more deeply.
She never wanted it to end. Or rather, she did, but only so that they could take things even farther – so that she could see his tattoo in person, run her hands over it before wrapping them around the hardness that pressed against her belly now.
When they finally pulled apart, breathing deeply as their lips were separated, there was no telling how much time had passed. It might’ve been minutes, or an entire hour – all she knew was that she was so ready for more, it hurt. Her panties were damp, and not because of her recent shower. It was all she could do to keep from grinding against Liam then and there, clothing be damned.
When she laid a hand in his lap, letting her fingers drift over the stiff rod of his erection, an electric thrill raced through her.
He groaned. “Alicia, don’t touch me like that unless you mean it.”
A sliver of amusement arrowed through her, not half as potent as the thrill of hearing him moan like that. “Is there really any doubt in your mind that I mean it?” She ran the pad of her thumb down his shaft, tracing the shape through his jeans. His heat radiated through the denim, warming her fingertips.
“Just making sure,” he said and met her eyes. “I meant it when I said you could have my bed and I’d sleep down here – having you stay here tonight was never about this.”
A note of hardness entered his voice, and his gaze sharpened. Half a moment later, his voice was deeper, less controlled. “Though I’d be lying if I said a part of me hadn’t hoped…”
He raked his gaze down the front of her body, and though she was fully dressed, she felt naked.
It was more than a good feeling – it was bliss. Everything inside her drew up tight, and she knew the climax she’d pushed herself to in his shower meant nothing.
“I know you meant it,” she said, “but I don’t want to sleep in your bed alone. Okay?” She rubbed the hard length of his cock again, impatient to feel him skin-to-skin. The idea of sleeping by herself sent a slight chill creeping down her spine, but it couldn’t touch the heat he’d filled her with.
“You’re killing me,” he said. “I’m not going to wake up in the morning and realize that all this – you moving here and everything – was a dream, am I?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I hope not, because if that’s the case, I’ll be waking up extremely disappointed back in DC.”
His hands brushed hers as he let go of her just long enough to undo his jeans button and zipper. His cock rose free and bare – he wasn’t wearing underwear.
A full-body blush swept over her, and she stared – unable to help it, unable to control her body’s natural reaction. Maybe it was ridiculous, given the way she’d come onto him, but he’d shocked her.
And oh, what a shock it was – nothing she hadn’t seen before, but the stuff of fantasy nonetheless. Fingers trembling a little, she reached out to finally touch him.
His skin was hot as summer, velvet-smooth and stretched taut over his hardness. Letting her fingertips drift over the rounded head and pronounced ridge, she traced the full length of his shaft before gripping him, forming a fist around all that thickness.
This time, the frisson that hit her had nothing to do with cold or fear.
“Alicia…” He moaned again, and her head filled with visions of him stepping into the shower, hard as stone, and climbing out, a little softer. She pumped her hand up and down his dick, wondering if he’d done the same, behind the shower curtain. If so, had he thought of her like she’d thought of him just twenty minutes ago?
He was good – and fast – with his hands. He undid her shorts’ button and zipper with lightning speed and precision, and she was surprised when she looked down and saw that he hadn’t actually ripped them.
The fact had barely registered by the time he touched her, fingertips skimming over her panties, setting everything inside her on fire. When he slipped a thumb beneath the narrow waistband of her bikini underwear, she felt more wired than she had on the mornings she’d sat drinking cup after cup of coffee, watching him naked in all his glory.
“You’re so hot,” he said as he let his fingers drift over her slick skin, touching heat even she could feel radiating from her body. “And wet. Damn, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”
His confession leant a sharper edge to her pleasure. “You have?”
He teased her pussy, so close to pressing a finger inside her that she could barely breathe.
“Yeah. I know you’ve only been living here for a month, but it’s been the most torturous month of my life. There’s something I should probably tell you – I hope you won’t judge me too harshly.”
Judge him? She was about to die if he kept teasing her and didn’t deliver, but that was it. “What is it?”
“You should really invest in a set of bedroom curtains. Or not – it’s up to you. Just know that when you’re getting undressed at night, I can see your naked silhouette against the blinds.”
That drew her up short, knocking what little air she’d managed to inhale right out of her lungs. He’d been watching her?
He slipped a finger inside her, and she almost lost it.
The guilt she’d harbored over watching him had left her, and in its place was a pleasure so profound she almost couldn’t imagine it getting any better. Almost. Looking down, she saw his hard cock and quickly changed her mind.
“You’re not mad, are you?” he asked, running a finger slowly up her inner wall, then back down. “I know I should have told you sooner.”
“Mad?” Her simple reply came out in a rush of breath, and her head spun. “No.”
She never got the chance to confess her own voyeurism. He kissed her first, simultaneously slipping a second finger inside her, and she forgot all about everything besides what they were doing in that very moment.
“Good,” he said when their mouths slipped apart. “And if it’s any consolation, I was punished with a lot of sleepless nights.”
She laughed – or at least, she tried. The motion sent his fingers slipping even deeper inside her, creating breathtaking friction. That was it – she wanted, needed more. Moving her hand up and down
his shaft, she teased him right back.
He withdrew his fingers from inside her, slowly and deliberately, drawing out every last moment of contact until she could hardly stand it anymore. When he was no longer inside her, she remembered that she was still technically dressed.
Apparently, he had just as much of a problem with that as she did. As she began to peel her clothing off, he helped – took over, really, his hands gliding all over her body, exploring every inch of skin they exposed. When she was finally naked he pulled her back into his lap. His cock stood tall enough to brush against her pussy, sending renewed desire roaring through her.
“What about you?” she asked, slipping her hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt and pressing them against his torso, exploring the ridges she found there. It felt so good to touch him, finally feeling everything she’d seen but never laid hands on before.
“What about me?” Now that she was undressed, his gaze and his hands alike were riveted to her body. He cupped her breasts, smoothed his hands over her hips, touched her everywhere he looked, then did it all over again.
In answer, she pushed his shirt up, exposing the hard surface of his torso. For the first time, she could see his tattoo up close – it was a running wolf, inked dark and bold down his left side. It had to have hurt, but it looked good. Bold and rugged, stylized and positioned so that it fit his body. She’d never seen such a sexy tattoo before. Tracing its borders, she tore her gaze away from the ink and met his eyes.
He seemed to take the hint. He removed his hands from her body for long enough to pull his shirt over his head, anyway.
She sucked in a sharp breath as she took in the broad span of his bare shoulders, and everything below.
He looked even more perfect up close than he had from a distance, and she found herself frozen in place, spellbound by the sight of him. When he resumed running his hands over her body, she reluctantly climbed out of his lap and settled beside him on the couch so that he’d be able to take his jeans off, too.
