affair.”
Roman chuckles, taking another step into me. He’s so tall that I have to crane my neck back to stare up at him. I try to disguise the ruckus of emotions barreling through me at his proximity. With each sharp inhale, I feel my breasts graze his warm body. His firm chest, all hard planes and muscle. It makes me hate him.
“That a threat, sweetheart?”
I smile. It’s cold and so unlike me. “Oh, no. It’s a warning.”
My heart lurches in my throat, and I let out a gasp, when he presses up against me, caging me against the wall with a hand over my head, effectively trapping me against him. The blood is roaring in my ears, my heart is racing in my chest, and I can barely manage to pull in steady breaths, without thinking of him. He’s everywhere. His scent, the heat of his body, every single part of him is invading that brick wall of anger I’ve built around myself since first coming into contact with him.
The room spins around us, but the one thing that’s at the center of my focus is Roman, as steady and callous as ever. The change of dynamics in our positions can be felt in the sudden shift in the air. It’s hard to breathe. Hard to think.
“You sure you want to do this?” he whispers huskily. I feel the effects of it dip low in my gut. Tugging, making me breathless. My lungs squeeze, threatening to give out on me. I have no idea what we’re talking about anymore. All I know is, I don’t want him to move. I don’t want this moment to end. And even though I hate myself for it, I want him to kiss me. I want to taste him. I want to know what it’d feel like to have those plump lips moving in sync with mine.
Would he taste just as fantastic as he smells?
Would his kiss be firm and rough? Or would it be soft and gentle, the exact opposite of everything that makes up Roman?
“Yes-s,” I breathe out, sounding much too husky for someone who claims to hate her neighbor.
My heart stops, and my breath gets lodged somewhere in my throat, when the corners of Roman’s mouth twist, curving upright. He smirks down at me, eyes glinting with something that I’m unable to process further, because he’s suddenly backing away. I almost whimper at the loss of him.
“You just started a war, Olivia.”
I blink. Then blink again. I continue blinking in shock, until Roman disappears with that infuriating smirk and swagger.
What the hell have I done?
“Body Bag”—Trevor Daniel
The second I slide back onto the stool in front of the bar, I gulp down the rest of my, now, lukewarm beer, and even though I know it’s a bad idea, I order a glass of something stronger. Shots of tequila always seem to do the trick. Ever since Olivia moved in next door, I’ve found myself drinking a shit ton more than I usually do. Anything to help take the edge off and get her out of my mind.
She infuriates me.
Drives me absolutely crazy.
The first day I laid eyes on her, I knew she was going to be an issue. Standing there, in front of the moving truck, in jeans and a tank top, all her soft, tan skin and petite silhouette on display. Even from the distance between our lawns, I could see the lush lines of her curves. The way her soft honey-brown hair grazed her shoulders in that ponytail shouldn’t have been as interesting to look at as it was. She shouldn’t have been that interesting to look at.
There was an odd taste in my mouth when I pulled into my driveway. I could feel the weight of someone’s gaze. It was heavy and potent, crackling the air around the quiet street I’ve come to love. When I glanced over my shoulder and saw her standing there, gaze riveted on me, my stomach muscles clenched, and I was suddenly glad I hadn’t taken off my helmet yet. I wanted to cling to anonymity.
It didn’t last for as long as I’d hoped. When she stood on my porch, staring up at me with wide eyes and a face sure to have a man make poor decisions, I felt indignation burn in my gut. She was beautiful. Goddammit, my new neighbor was fucking beautiful, and she was checking me out. Her gaze raked across my naked flesh like she’d never quite seen