Chapter 4
4
M ACKENZIE
My heart cries big tears of regret when his fingers swipe through the pictures I have taken, and one by one, he makes them disappear before ensuring they’ve been permanently deleted.
Motherfucker.
“Good. I hope you’re happy now,” I mutter, his eyes on the phone screen, his finger still moving. It’s like he wants to make sure no picture has escaped his laser-pointed scrutiny and stayed with me. “It takes more than that to make me happy,” he says, weight added to his words by his husky nasal voice.
He shifts his eyes to me, finally sitting upright.
A stain created by the melted snow is visible on his pants.
“Why did it take you so long?” he asks, his eyes going back to my phone. “We could’ve done this from the beginning. Or better yet, you could’ve not taken my pictures.”
“You were trespassing when I took your pictures,” I remind him.
“No. That’s incorrect,” he says. “I wouldn’t have trespassed had you not started playing with the camera.”
“So, what was your plan?” I ask, and his hand goes down, still clutching my phone.
His eyebrows slide up into a questioning look, so I continue.
“Did you think her husband would go away, and you’d sneak inside to finish what you started?”
He finally places his free hand down and pushes himself up.
All this time, I’ve shivered despite hugging myself, and here he is, acting like a summer breeze has just moved around his torso, and the sun brightly shines.
“That wasn’t my plan,” he says, pulling up in front of me, and I find myself tilting my head back to connect my eyes to his again.
He is tall and broad-shouldered and has a dark sparkle in his eyes. My mind can’t pull away from that image of him grabbing that woman’s hips and plunging into her like the world is about to end.
Her loud moaning makes sense now.
I’d probably be vocalizing, too, if I were her.
The shuddering of the walls also seemed appropriate considering the hard fucking taking place inside her apartment.
I don’t even want to think about it.
“What was your plan?” I ask.
“Is this your boyfriend?” he tosses at me, flipping my phone over and having his thumb pressed against Quinn’s face, obviously ignoring my question.
“What??”
The horror in my voice is slimy and thick like mud.
I jerk my hand to yank my phone away from him. No chance to accomplish that as he zips it out of my reach.
“What boyfriend?” I mumble, cold sweat dotting my skin. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Lying has never been my forte.
And I can tell I’m losing ground by how amused he is, which is a great achievement since he doesn’t seem the type who entertains the idea of frivolous, humorous things like me.
I just established that the man oozes sarcasm, has an attitude, harbors a glacier in his chest, and his blood is laced with icicles.
And all that occurs despite the warmth of his body, his fever-inducing eyes and lips that could easily melt my skin off.
He is quite a walking contradiction, and something must’ve made him that way.
Now back to Quinn’s picture.
Why did I have to keep it on my phone?
I thought I had erased all of them.
And I mean all of them, including the ones we’d taken when we went out together, and someone else snapped pictures of us as a couple.I couldn’t stand seeing myself next to him, so I deleted those photographs, but for some reason, I kept his picture.
Honestly, I thought it would be useful to have it in front of me, especially when I was mad at him.
It’s not that I disliked he’d found someone else. I only felt unmoored and lost in a sea of options.
Quinn might not have been the cutest boy, the sharpest tool in the toolbox, or the greatest lover, but he was comfy like a plush pillow on an old couch with familiar worn spots that made stretching and relaxing easy.
What a terrible price to pay for keeping his picture.
I make a second attempt to snatch up my phone from his hand.
“It’s not your damn business who he is. You have no right to question me about him. I don’t even know your name. Not to mention that you have broken into my apartment.”
“We’re still outside, baby doll. And you'll need to tell me your name if you want to know mine.”
My resolve thickens.
“Really? Is that how you want to play?” I harden my arms across my chest. “Do you think I’m crazy to give you my name?”
“All right,” he says, shifting his focus back to my phone. “I can find out what your name is…”
His voice trails off while he finds his way into one of my social media accounts.
That was a bad move on my part.
Using my real name, I mean.
His face lights up for no apparent reason.
“Mackenzie?”
He seems intrigued as he feigns amusement.
“Mackenzie Prince?” he says after checking my name again.
“Can I get my phone back?”
He flicks his eyes to me and slides my phone into his pocket. That’s not good. And I won’t fight my way into his pants just to retrieve my phone.
He is bigger, taller, and way more muscular than me.
He could wrestle me to the ground and possibly take me hostage.
And as strange as it sounds, a part of me wouldn’t dislike that in the slightest.
But the chances of that happening are slim, though.
He seems to have been flooded with women. I’m sure the one upstairs is not the only one breaking her vows to get a little excitement on the side with the man in front of me.
“How can someone like him bail out on someone like you?” he asks, sliding his hands into his pockets, every bump and line across his chiseled body begging for attention.
I can only imagine how nice it would feel to rest my head on those cushy pecs. Or run my lips around his tight nipples.
Yes, he must be in his thirties, but he looks younger.
His eyes give his real age away.
He knows too damn much, yet not enough not to risk his life jumping from one balcony to another.
He must be a savage when he takes a woman.
Okay.
I need to stop thinking about sex all the time.
“Why would you ask me something like that?” I push through my tense lips.
He carelessly shrugs a shoulder.
“I don’t know… The way you look?”
“Life isn’t only about looks. As much as life isn’t only about sex.”
“We’ve established that,” he says with a hint of irony in his voice. “And yet, you can’t stop having dirty thoughts about me.”
My mouth falls open in surprise and justified outrage.
“Oh. Fuck you,” I say, mad at him and myself. “You’re such a… Ugh.” I wave him off, angered. “I’m out of here,” I announce. “You know your way out.”
I gesture at the balustrade, suggesting that he could vault over and hit the pavement for all I cared. I just don’t want him anywhere near me.
Without another word, I turn to the door and set one foot in when his hand wraps around my wrist, and I find myself spinning back to him.
My chest hits just below his pecs.
He smells amazing.
And that’s all I notice now?
I’m disgusted with myself.
But he does.
He smells like aftershave and cologne buried deep in his skin.
His other hand smoothly wraps around my neck while his eyes drill into me like blades of fire.
There’s no smile on his face.
“Why did he break up with you?” he asks quietly, gently brushing his thumb over my lips.
He is so close that my pores absorb the smell of his cologne.
“Why do you care?”
He shrugs a shoulder again, an amused grin tugging at his lips.
“I don’t. I’m just curious. You were curious about me with your little phone camera and shit.”
“It’s not every day that…” I swallow hard. “An intruder arrives at my place from my neighbor’s balcony.”
His replies comes swiftly.
“You suspected the intruder had had sex with your neighbor. So, this was never about me being an intruder. It was always about you not having sex for a while.”
Feigning a smile, I wag my finger at him.
“Funny thing you did there. But no. I will never have sex with someone like you.”
He laughs in my face, tilting his head back and flashing a sensual smile.
“Sure, baby. As you say.”
“Plus, you haven’t even volunteered,” I toss at him, and he laughs again before centering his eyes on my lips.
Gently, he pats them with his index finger.
“I have different plans for you. Since you’re being nosy and all.”
His eyes slip to my collarbones and lower to the hard nipples pushing through my thin cotton bra.
“What about we do this?” he murmurs, his gaze tipped down, coasting over my sheer cotton underwear.
My cheeks burn with a blush as I remember his comment about my pubic hair.
Looking at the apex of my thighs, he slides his free hand into his pocket.
“You’re home alone apparently…” he murmurs, peeling a couple of one hundred dollar bills from a roll of money. “And you haven’t gotten laid in a while, so naturally, you’re not minding your own business. This is for you to keep track of the woman upstairs for me.”
His eyes move to mine while he tucks the money in my bra.
Uh… What?
I fight back my fury.
The nerve he has.
Not only do I have to listen to their love making sessions and witness their indiscretions, but now I have to spy for him?
And why in the world would he need to know what she’s doing in her free time? Or whether she’s in bed with someone else?
This can’t be about having feelings for her. And the same goes for her.
Please, no. It can’t be that.
The woman is married, and she’s getting it on with the man upstairs just about now.
Does that count? Is he affected by it?No.
He’s more interested in my bra than what’s going on upstairs.
“Keep track of her?” I mutter, looking at the money. “I’m not that nosy,” I say, tipping my chin to the cash, suggesting he needs to increase his bid.
He pushes out a quiet laugh.
“All right…” he drawls, reaching for the rest of the money. “What about this?” he asks, adding three more one hundred dollar bills. “Would this make you nosy enough?”
Our eyes meet again.
“Huh?” he murmurs, tenderly moving his fingers over my cheek. “I guess yes,” he adds, pushing the extra cash inside my bra.
The bills are cold, but his touch is warm, exciting the nerve endings dormant in my skin.
“Why are you so interested in what she does? You already know what she’s up to. She does it with you every damn evening.”
He presses his lips together, crushing a smile, wickedly entertained.
“I’m just curious like you,” he says.
I finger his chest.
“I don’t buy it. Truthfully, why do you care? She’s not faithful to her husband. And she’s not faithful to you. Do you really need to know whether she’s seeing other men or not?”
His smile fades, and his eyes darken, an invisible door closing over his good disposition.
It may have been an act on his part, after all.
“Just keep track of her. That’s all you need to do,” he says in a bossy tone.
His stern look makes me pause and mull over his words.
“And how am I supposed to get in touch with you?”
“Don’t worry about that. I know where you live,” he says, straightening.
I don’t like the sound of that.
What if he’s not happy with the information I collect for him? What if there isn’t much information to begin with?
This involves a lot of risks.Risks I prefer to avoid.
“I need more than five hundred bucks if you want me to do work for you,” I say, holding my hand out for more cash.
His eyebrows lift, intrigued.
“Five hundred is not enough for doing what you’ve been doing anyway for free?”
“Are you going to be difficult now?” I retort with sass. “That was before I met you. What you’re asking from me incurs a lot of risks, and I don’t know who you are orwhat exactly you are doing with the information. For sure, it’s not about you being in love with her. That much I know. Plus, her old man is a little nuts. What do I know? She seemingly likes crazies a lot.”
His upper lip trembles with a barely stifled smile.
“You know nothing about crazy people,” he tosses back at me. “I’m sure your little 'old man’ didn’t rock your world. If he did, you’d bust his balls now, not mine.”
He moves his hand to the belt and traces one of the seams for a secret pocket.
“He dumped you for another woman, didn’t he?”
My heart drops, and my cheeks are about to melt off.
I stand stiff, with my lips tightly pressed together.
He deftly pulls out five one hundred dollar bills.
Man, what’s up with all this money?
I thought they were role playing, not dealing upstairs.
I hope he’s not––they’re not.
The last thing I want is to get involved with some local gangsters and get questioned at the police station.
My mind wanders away with a whirl of conflicting emotions when his eyes burn holes into my face, busting with scrutiny.
“Mackenzie?”
His voice is like a shot of hard liquor over my palate and has the exact same warm effect on my body.
Mackenzie.
Never in my life has someone called my name like that. In a baritone, raspy voice, with a hint of worry and curiosity in his tone.
I’ve been Kenzie Girl all my life. Kayla often calls me Kenny. And we frequently laugh about it like it’s a good joke.
The way he said it… Oh, my.
Mackenzie finally has a ring to it.
“Yes,” I answer in a whispered voice.
He cocks an eyebrow at me before I speak.
“Not that it matters to you. And it really shouldn’t,” I clarify. “Unlike you and the woman upstairs, my ex and I weren’t a good fit.”
I snatch the rest of the money from his hand and shove it in my bra, the cup now a size bigger from all that cash.
“I wouldn’t make long-term plans with the woman upstairs if I were you,” I say. “Even if she likes the way you fuck her and cheers you on every time you take her to her high, look at her now. She’s quiet as a mouse and just as happy.”
“You don’t know what they’re doing,” he says, mostly pulling my leg, I suspect.
“As if you do. What do you think it is? He sang her a lullaby and put her to sleep? I’ve heard having makeup sex is just as satisfying, if not more satisfying than forbidden sex. But as you may as well know, I’m not a specialist. You are the expert in the matter. Now get out of my place before I change my mind and call the cops,” I say, showing him inside my apartment so he can find the door and get lost.
He points to the patio door.
“After you,” he says with a smirk.
“All right.”
I dust off my wrinkled dignity and step in.
His heavy steps ring behind me.
For some reason, I’m pissed. Majorly pissed.
I wish I’d gotten half of the concern he has with that woman from Quinn. My ex never cared what happened after he dropped me off. Whether I went to sleep or fucked random guys on the side.
And look at this stranger, paying hard, cold cash to learn more about the woman upstairs who, as we speak, fulfills her marital duties, opening her legs for her husband.
He asked me how I knew she was married?
Wasn’t it obvious?
The guy stormed into the building like he owned it along with the woman upstairs, risking a parking ticket and having his car towed away.
And why did he do that?
He wanted to make sure the woman hadn’t moved out and run away with someone else while he was gone.
He knows what he knows.
It just happens that Santa here is good at gymnastics or he’d probably wear two bags of frozen peas just about now if the angry husband got his hands on him.
It could be the other way around, for all I care.
Who knows what these people’s beef with each other really is?
I stop in the middle of the room and pivot to him. He peels his gaze off the Christmas ornaments.
“Cute,” he says in a clipped voice, retrieving my phone from his pocket and leaving it on the coffee table.
Like you ––I say to him in my head.
Cute and problematic.
“So, you’re not working,” he says, not in a rush to go away.
“What was your first clue?”
He gives me a smug smile.
“Too much time on your hands? Too stressed out about the situation to find a man and take some of the edge off?”
I should be mad about this. But I can’t be mad.
Because he’s right.
“And it all worked in my favor,” I retort. “Look what’s gotten me,” I say, patting my left breast, pointing to the cash I earned this evening doing nothing. “I’m not giving it back,” I warn him. “Whether she fucks someone else or not, this is my money.”
“It’s yours, baby,” he says with a wink.
My eyes dip to his bare torso, and I almost ask him whether he needs a jacket or a coat. I have neither, but I feel like asking him that.
Luckily, I push it all back.
I don’t want to baby him.
I’m grateful for the money, but I have mixed feelings about him, not to mention how jealous I am of that woman.
And for no good reason. Or so I think.
“The exit door is over there,” I unceremoniously say, swiveling and pointing to the door.
“Noted,” he says before leaving my place without another word.