Chapter 8
Like the coward I am, I mumble a hasty ‘good night’ to Xander and run like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels back to the safety of my duplex. I slide the patio door closed and flip the lock, more out of habit than any real fear that the man on the other side of the partition would follow…
My breathing is ragged, I’m fairly panting, and my heart is beating out of my chest.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the husky, intense words he’d said, and the way he’d said them. Even in the pale blue twilight, I could see his eyes as he’d watched me. His gaze hadn’t left mine, just stared at me with all that intensity arcing between us.
A very long, very dead part of me has awakened recently, much to my dismay. I haven’t let myself feel anything, don’t give myself time to think or feel or do anything other than survive day to day.
The attraction I feel for Xander is always accompanied swiftly by a wave of guilt. All I can think about at night is what those warm, sun kissed muscles might feel like beneath my palms, my fingers. What that mouth might feel like as it presses to mine, what it might feel like to feel his weight on top of me…
No, I remind myself, pacing through the kitchen, the glow of the light over the stove the only light. I’m just horny and lonely. This will pass. Hopefully.
Even if I wanted to date—which I don’t, despite the many nudges that I’ve gotten from Vi lately—Xander is strictly off limits.
He’s my brother’s boss. And his best friend.
And he’s a hotshot.
Despite the walls I’ve built around my heart where my sexy as sin neighbor is concerned, I can’t help but worry about him whenever he and Cal leave for a fire. I tell myself it’s because he’s my brother’s best friend and because I care about him as a friend and neighbor. Nothing more than that.
I groan, letting my head drop back so that I’m staring at the ceiling. I’m lying to myself. At least a little.
Because I do care about Xander. A lot. As a friend and neighbor… but more , too. This stupid crush that I’ve been fighting for the last several months is silly, especially knowing that I’m never going to allow myself to act on it anyway.
I can look. I just can’t touch.
Well. I can’t touch him , at least.
I do, however, touch myself at night…when I let myself pretend for just a little while that I’m not alone in my bed with a silicone toy in hand.
Again. I’m just horny and lonely.
It’s pathetic, to be honest. I’m a hot mess on good days.
Leaning my hips against the counter in the kitchen, I fan myself. I can’t even blame the August heat; this is all because of Xander and the way his deep, growly words and impossibly intense gaze affect me.
Stealing a glance out the patio door into the darkness that’s shrouded the outside world, I bite my lip. Fuck it .
Slipping quietly down the hall, I close my bedroom door and slide into bed before reaching for the drawer of my nightstand and pull out ‘ol faithful.
Turning the toy on, I slide it and my hand beneath the folds of my robe, letting my thighs drop open.
“Oh shit,” I whisper into the dark as the vibrator buzzes along my skin. Circling it over my clit, I let my mind wander to Xander…