by Nana Malone
His full lips tipped into a lopsided smirk. "Who is it you're waiting for?"
Sophie frowned. "Excuse me?"
The smile only deepened as he crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. "My guess is a boyfriend. He's late, is he?"
Sophie shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't even—"
But Nathan wasn't listening. "I mean, if you were my girl … " His gaze slid over her body, and it felt like lightning caressed her synapses. " … I would be early, every single time." He leaned forward and lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "Except in bed, of course. There, I'd take my time. Make sure you got there first, twice, probably three times. I'd like you to enjoy yourself."
Panties down. Panties down! Sophie couldn't move. She knew she should move. Knew that what he was saying to her was dirty. And, well, hot. And oh, so inappropriate. But still, she didn't move. She couldn't move. Her feet were rooted, bolted to the cement beneath her. "I—I don't know what you—"
"You don't know what I mean? I'm talking about in bed. You're busy staring at the door; I already saw you earlier, busy looking for someone to show up. And honestly, he's an idiot if he has left you here on your own. Someone like me might come up and sweep you into my bed."
She blinked, hoping that the small action would give her brain a second to catch up. He was flirting. Well, forget flirting; he was downright forward. And inappropriate and there was a part of her that liked it, even though she shouldn't. "You can't say that to me." Why was her voice husky and whisper hot?
He shrugged. "Why not?"
"You don't even know me. And it's a bit rude."
He grinned and Sophie swore to God she almost dropped her knickers. "It's not rude if you like it. And given by the flush in your cheeks, and the way your pupils have dilated, I think you do like it. Does Mr. Late and Stupid talk to you like this?"
No, Christopher never spoke to her like this. But that was beside the point. "Is my boyfriend rude and forward? No, he's not."
"No, he's just late.
“To me, that classifies as rude. He's also clearly stupid, if he would leave someone like you waiting.” He leaned closer. “What do you say? Why don't you chuck him over? I'm here. I can be your boyfriend for the night."
For the night. Her boyfriend.
It wasn't her fault. It was her brain. Traitorous eyes offered images of Nathan doing dirty things to her with his mouth and his hands. Those long, sculpted fingers looked sure. As if they were practiced, skilled. It wasn't cheating if she thought about it. That was just imagination. She would never chuck Christopher for some fit as hell bloke who said dirty things to her on a balcony. After all, how many dirty things had he said to other women tonight? Besides, she knew the type all too well. That was a good point.
"So, is your dirty talk reserved just for me, or is it just because I'm handy?" She cocked her head.
His chuckle was low and throaty and made her nipples contract. Oh hell, he couldn't see her nipples through her dress, could he? She was wearing a strapless dress with a bra, but the bra had barely any padding in it.
"All that matters is I'm talking to you now." And then his gaze slid off her body. They hovered for just a second over her breast, and hell. He could her tightened nipples. When he lifted his gaze to her eyes again, he winked. "It seems you like the way I'm talking to you."
"I'm going to go back inside now." Way to be firm, Sophie.
He cocked his head. "You're sure about that?"
Nope. "Yes, yes. Very, very, sure."
Nathan shrugged. "Too bad. It would have been fun." He downed his drink and then studied her. "Just so you know, you deserve better than some git who doesn't pay attention to you and doesn't give you what you need. Not that what I'm telling you will matter."
What the hell? "You don't know anything about me."
"You're wrong about that. I know you're wasting your time on a guy who doesn't deserve you."
Sophie frowned and turned her back to him. Whatever. That guy didn't know her at all.
2
Nathan
Nathan had struck out.
He wasn't used to that. It didn't matter, though. Not like there weren't plenty of women here. Oh yeah? Then why do you keep looking at the redhead with the big green eyes? He wasn't. He told himself he wasn't. His dick, on the other hand, begged to differ. Fine whatever. The client meeting had gone well. They had some brand-new technology app. Even better security for your home. He told them to submit an RFP because at the end of the day, Windsor already had a similar product, though this one promised to be at a cheaper price point. So, it was worth further investigation. So now, he was basically here to play, or lose himself for an hour.
He didn't have to wait long. The bartender who had given him the whiskey earlier caught his eye again and gave him a wide smile. When he strolled up to her, he leaned over. "Are you going to pour me another drink?"
She grinned. "Are you going to give me another hundred quid tip?"
He grinned. "Depends on how well you pour." She leaned forward, crossing her arms, making sure to squeeze her tits together and giving him a fantastic view down her low slung pink top.
"You do realize the drinks are free, right?"
He widened his eyes and let his mouth hang open. "Are you sure? I had no idea. Can I have my tip back?"
She laughed low. "You absolutely can, if you can find it."
"Oh, I promise. I'm very good at finding things. It'll only take me seconds."
She lifted her brow. "Seconds, is it? You're so sure of yourself.”
Nathan knew they weren't talking about the tip he'd left her. If they ever had been. She was challenging him. "I promise you less than ten."
"Well, I'm going on a break in a minute. You want to show me your fantastic skills?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely!" Except he didn't really want to. It was more like scratching a mild itch. She would do. She was pretty. She's not the redhead. Damn it. He didn't want to think about her.
Once the bartender found him ten minutes later, she tugged him down the hall toward the coat check. As it was the middle of August and unseasonably warm outside, no one had any coats to check. "It looks like you're leading me in here for nefarious reasons," he teased.
"You have ten minutes to wow me or forever tarnish your reputation." Nathan wasted no time. He backed her up against one of the counters, lifted her onto it and had his hands smoothing up her thighs. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend she was someone else. The woman he actually wanted.
She smelled wrong, though. Her perfume was too thick. Too flowery, but he didn't care. When his thumbs found the edges of her knickers, he smirked as her eyes widened. "What, you really don't think I can do it?"
Her grin was easy. "Let's just say I think you have your work cut out for you." She tipped her head up for a kiss.
"Oh, ye of little faith." Nathan knew what he was doing. He leaned forward even as his thumbs teased the edges of her panties. Instead of kissing her, he nuzzled that spot just below her ear and then nipped her earlobe lightly. "Get ready to scream."
All it took was a simple teasing brush over her clit and a bite at her earlobe as he slid one finger inside her. When he applied pressure to both her clit and the bundle of nerves inside, he bit her ear again, and she screamed. Instead of the husky voice of the redhead on the balcony, her voice was higher pitched, more of a squeal. He forced himself to focus.
You have a woman who is about to be sitting on your dick, coming around your fingers. Focus. He dragged his attention to the task at hand. He could feel her inner walls clamping around his finger and then he added another.
Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as her hips rode his fingers. "Yes! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!"
"That's five seconds. You want another one?"
She didn't answer him verbally. Just clamped her legs tighter around his fingers and then widened them deliberately as she nodded.
"Yeah, I thought you might." He dragged out his wa
llet, pulled out a condom quickly, dispensed with the foil in seconds, and had himself shielded. "Is this what you want?"
She nodded furiously.
"Oh no you don't. Say the words. Say ‘I want you to fuck me.’"
"Jesus. I want you to fuck me. Just hurry up." He chuckled to himself as he eased his fingers out of her. She moaned low. Then he stepped between her legs, dug his hands into her hair and then sank in deep. He closed his eyes, trying to focus just on the sensation. She was soft, needy, and enthusiastic. A little too enthusiastic maybe. There was a part of him that wanted to work for it a little. Like with that redhead. She'd probably have him begging. He wasn't sure what it was, but something made him open his eyes.
Oh hell, it was her. The redhead. Through what was supposed to be the open window of the coat check, he could see her in the doorway, and she was watching him.Their eyes locked. From where he stood, he couldn't see her pupils, but he knew they were dilated. Her lips were parted, and he watched the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing grew more and more ragged.
As he fucked the nameless blonde, he watched her, the one he wanted. She watched him. And he couldn't help but imagine that she was the one he was touching. That she had taken him up on his offer. That she had chosen him over the guy who stood her up. That she was the one in here with him, her center, clamped around his dick and moaning in his ear.
He should have stopped. She should have turned away. But neither of them seemed to be able to stop what they were doing. And he couldn't help finding perverse pleasure in her watching him.
He wanted to know things about her. He wanted to know how she liked it. Did she like it dirty? Even as he deepened his strokes, he leaned closer to the blonde and said loudly enough for the other woman to hear, "Do you like it dirty? Do you like when I talk to you?" The blonde moaned something unintelligible in his ear. The redhead bit her lip.
Oh yeah, she liked it dirty.
He reached his hand around to tap the blonde’s arse, bringing them closer together. Jesus, she had a vice grip on him. And while it felt good, she wasn't exactly what he wanted. He was irritated enough about that to nip her shoulder, making her gasp. As for Red, she looked like she was squeezing her thighs together.
Hell yes. When his fingertips accidentally/not so accidentally grazed the pucker of the blonde’s arse. She gave a low, hissing moan. But he was studying the redhead. Her lips parted again, and her tongue flipped out to lick her bottom lip. Shit. Would she want him to do this? Would she let him? Just the thought of it had the electricity crackling up his spine. Fuck.
He might be a twat, fucking one girl while eye fucking another, but he had a reputation to uphold. And so, the girl he was actually fucking needed to come before he could, and he was too damn close. Reaching his other hand between them, he flipped his thumb quickly over her clit and clenched his teeth, holding off the orgasm until he could feel her clamping around him again. Little quivers squeezing him again, and again, and again. He lifted his gaze back to the redhead and came on a low, harsh growl.
Jesus Christ, he was going to die. An orgasm was actually going to kill him. But he knew it wasn't because of the girl he was with. It was because of the girl with the big green eyes. When his brain finally started to come back online, he lifted his eyes to see if she was still watching him, but she was gone.The disappointment hit him swiftly. He'd wanted her to stay, but she was gone— as if she'd never been there to begin with.
3
Sophie
One Year Later ...
Sophie tossed in bed.
It was hot and stifling in her flat. But she wasn't going to open the window as the noise from outside would be far worse than the heat. This was London. No one had air conditioning. But it wasn't the heat getting to her.
She knew what her problem was. She was frustrated. Sexually frustrated. She and Christopher had been off again. They haven't had sex in nearly two months. Not that anything was wrong per se; it was just that their schedules were a mess. They weren't meshing well. When he did stay over, he never seemed particularly interested in sex. Not that she was either. They just had to connect.
That's not the real reason.
Damn it. She didn't want to think about why.
Okay, fine. That wasn't the real reason. The real reason was Nathan flipping Windsor. She might have been mildly obsessed with her neighbor across the hall. Everything about this flat was perfect, exactly what she wanted. Everything except him. After that fateful meeting at Thrive a year ago, things had been off-kilter. But then he'd moved in six months ago. He was a pain in the arse. He was loud. He was fresh. And he didn't remember her at all. That stung the worst.
The day he'd moved in, she'd gone over to be neighborly. And then she'd come face-to-face with the man she'd watched shagging someone else while he eye-fucked her. Not that he belonged to her or anything. Hell, she had a boyfriend. But that night played in her head over and over again. It was her go-to thought or memory when she was sexually frustrated. Between that and her vibrator, getting a little relief from the sexual tension was easy.
You watched him shag someone. Just the idea of it made her flush.
He'd been so locked on her, as if he'd been thinking about her the entire time, which she knew was rubbish. He hadn't, of course. He was just that kind of guy who would do anything, screw anyone, in the moment.
But when she'd gone over to say, "Hey neighbor," she'd been shocked to find him on the other side, looking completely unfazed. And then come to find out he was the neighbor from hell.
The problem was, she could hear everything that happened in his flat. The walls in this building were paper-thin. This building with a highly coveted unit in Soho and built over a club. While the floors were soundproofed, the walls were not. So, while she didn't hear that many comings and goings from downstairs, she could practically hear everything that he did.
The units in this floor where L-shaped so they shared a bedroom wall and then a common corridor, a sort of a waiting area. And then there were the stairs that went down. They also had a shared space rooftop garden up above. Something she rarely ever took advantage of.
She always imagined she'd find him up there shagging his latest conquest and busy not remembering her. Not that she cared. She could hear everything that was happening in his bedroom anyway.
Sophie had even tried putting on headphones. Those stupid things were supposed to be noise canceling. But it didn't matter what she played. She could still imagine what he was doing. It had been driving her slowly insane for months. She could imagine the moans, imagine that look in his eye as he screwed that other woman, where his fingers had gone, how he'd seem to dare her, to question her. Asking if she liked to be touched ... there. If she would let him touch her. If she would let him tease her like that. Oh God!
Why couldn't she get him out of her head? She didn't even like him.
4
Sophie
The jarring thud of repetitive bass first filtered into Sophie’s dream. It thrummed so loud she could feel it into her bones. She was at a club and it was crowed, hot and noisy. Too crowded hot and noisy.
She was looking for someone through the white cloud of a choking smoke machine, pointlessly trying to call their name over the deafening music. Gradually, elements of her dream began to fade away and she became aware that she was lying in her bed.
Slowly, like emerging from underwater, the people, the darkness and the smoke began to shimmer and disappear. Gradually, everything was gone. Except for the music. Her bed almost vibrated with the bass. Hang on.
Sophie snapped open her eyes.
She most definitely wasn’t in a club. She was most definitely in the warm cocoon of her bed and it was … She reached for her phone to check … 2:15 a.m. So why the hell could she still hear music? You know why.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered. Unfortunately, she knew why she could still hear music. And she knew exactly where it was coming from.
Swinging her legs around
, she yanked her dressing gown from the bedpost and threw it on, fury building in her veins.
“I’m going to kill him,” she muttered, marching across her room, down the hallway and out of her front door.
Directly opposite her was the closed door of her neighbor’s flat. The music was much louder here. Threads of guitar mingled with the bass, cementing the scowl on Sophie’s face. Closing her hand into a fist, she pounded at the door.
What the hell was wrong with him? Seriously. He had to be doing this on purpose. She wished she could say this was the first time she’d had to run over here in the middle of the night.
The guy was inconsiderate. Sexy. An arsehole. Hotter than Satan. Arrogant. And Sexy … You already said sexy. Shit. It didn’t matter. Sexy or not, with abs that could shred her clothes, he was a full-on wanker.
It stayed shut. She pounded again, for longer this time. “For God’s sake, Nathan, answer the door,” she yelled. Just as she’d lifted her arm to hammer at it again, it swung open, revealing a man, completely starkers.
“Hey neighbor.” Nathan grinned.
She’d seen him shirtless before. Hell, he practically ran around that way all the damn time. He worked out shirtless. He lounged by the pool upstairs shirtless. He barbecued … shirtless. But this was the first time she had seen Nathan completely naked and, she had to be honest, it threw her.
Happy Christmas to me. Dear lord, half naked didn’t even do justice to the man. For the sake of Christ, he was fucking outstanding. She thought back to the scene in that movie Crazy, Stupid, Love when Emma Stone saw Ryan Gosling’s body, gasped, and then asked him if he was photo-shopped.
Well, you can take Ryan Gosling’s body and double it. No, quadruple it, she thought, scanning Nathan as best she could using her peripheral vision only.
God damn it. He is well fit. She swore she didn’t mean to. But her eyes betrayed her and inadvertently shifted to his man parts. Her mouth fell open again. Seriously, that thing had to be some kind of joke. It was massive. No way in hell any woman could take that. And hell, it seemed huge. And it was pointing right at her.
