Dead Pretty - Samantha Towle Page 0,30

in his eyes dims a little, and he lets out a sound of disappointment.

“Neighbors,” he echoes, nodding.

Then, he steps back, his hand leaving my neck.

And I feel cold. Bereft.

I watch him walk over to Eleven and pick her up. Then, he heads straight for the door.

He opens it but glances back at me. “Thanks for watching Eleven, neighbor.”

Then, he shuts the door behind him.

And I’m still sitting here, in the exact same spot he left me.

Fuck!

I know this is the right thing. Letting him go. Not letting whatever was about to happen between us happen.

I made my choices a long time ago, and I need to keep sticking with them.

But …

I could just sleep with him once and then be done.

Yeah, because screwing your neighbor once and then ignoring him is a good idea, said no one ever.

But …

For fuck’s sake!

I’m tired of fighting myself on this. Fighting wanting him.

What’s the worst thing that could happen?

I’ll get some orgasms, and then we’ll never speak again.

Fine!

All rational thought has left me by this point. I’m solely working off emotions right now. A whole fucking mix of them. Want, need, frustration, confusion, and a ton of anger.

I’m angry with myself for being so weak. And I’m pissed at him for making me want him.

Screw it all to hell!

I’m storming out of my apartment and stomping my way over to his before I can even give it another thought.

I bang my fist on his door.

It swings open a few seconds later.

He looks like he’s going to say something, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.

I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Look, Jack, I don’t know what we are, okay!” My voice is starting to rise. I can’t seem to stop it. “I have no clue! All I do know is that I want you. I shouldn’t, but I do! I want you, and I—” I don’t get to finish the rest of that sentence.

Because Jack reaches out, yanks me against his hard body, and kisses the hell out of me.

The door is kicked shut. I’m pressed up against a wall.

Jack is kissing me.

Holy shit … Jack is kissing me.

And I’m letting him.

I shouldn’t but—

I part my lips on a breath. His tongue slips into my mouth.

And my brain switches off.

I loop my arms around his neck, holding him close.

He slides his fingers into my hair, gripping the strands, and angles my head exactly where he wants it, so he can kiss me deeper.

It’s possessive.

It’s raw and needful. Desperate.

And I’m here for all of it.

His thigh slides between mine, parting my legs, bringing our bodies together. I can feel his erection pressed up against my stomach.

Sweet Jesus.

“I was right,” he whispers into my mouth.

“About?” I manage to say.

“How good you taste.”

I’m pretty sure I moan.

“And you feel even better than anything I could conjure up.” His lips are chasing a path down my neck.

“You thought about me? This?”

His eyes come back to mine. “Every fucking night.”

He takes my mouth again, the kiss fast becoming desperate again.

My hands slide down his arms, to his waist. Finding the hem of his T-shirt, I slip my hands underneath, against the hard of his back muscles, needing to feel his skin.

Soft. So fucking soft.

I hear a groan.

This time, it’s from him.

His erection pushes into my stomach.

I’m panting into his mouth. I feel like I’m going to explode. My clit is throbbing, pressed up against his thigh. I need to move to release the pressure.

As if reading my mind, he starts to move his leg against me, creating a delicious friction against the spot where I need it most.

I feel shameless in this moment.

I’m here, fully dressed, dry-humping my neighbor’s leg against his apartment wall, and I don’t even care.

I should stop this.

No, you shouldn’t. Shut up, Audrey.

That’s my vagina talking.

In all honesty, I don’t think I could even if I tried.

I want this. I want him.

We’re all heat, hands, lips, and tongues.

My hands move to his stomach, feeling the ridges.

Jack breaks our kiss. Reaching his hand to the back of his neck, he grabs hold of his T-shirt and pulls it off over his head in that sexy way that guys do.

He tosses the shirt aside.

My eyes drop lower.

He’s cut. My God, is he cut.

My fingers reach out, tracing the lines of his muscles. He has a tattoo on his right bicep.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I will fuck you against this wall.”

My eyes lift to his.

The way he’s looking at me …

I