Naughty Neighbor - Lauren Runow Page 0,48
to be me. I just want to meet a man who isn’t the kind of man my mother raised me to be cautious of, and what the men of my past led me to accept as normal.
I want a man who is honest and sweet. Someone who keeps his promises and isn’t afraid to have the uncomfortable conversations. A man who will stick around.
A man like Jake.
I’ve been keeping him at arm’s length, for fear that he’s bad. He might not turn out to be the man for me, but if that happens, it’s not because he’s cruel or unjust. A man like Jake Moreau dates with the end in mind. He’s looking for his forever, and I won’t even give him a decent chance.
Does he want one?
He must. He’s been so patient with me. A neighbor, a friend, a date. The man comes off as an enigma, but that’s only because it’s so hard to believe he is exactly what he appears to be.
A good man.
“What is wrong with me?” I say out loud as I run my hands through my hair.
I need to go next door and talk to him and … say what? For a woman who writes dramatic love scenes, I am certainly at a loss for what to say.
I’m chewing on my thumb and wondering what to do when I hear a clicking sound.
No, it’s a tapping sound.
Tap, tap, tap.
I rush over to the source of the sound that’s coming from my living room and turn toward the window, where it sounds like a small object was thrown. I look out and down to the street three flights below. Jake is standing on the sidewalk, staring up at me. I open the window and stick my head out.
“Did you lock yourself out?” I call down to him.
“Go to your bedroom.”
He walks away, and I close my window, utterly confused. Like a good girl, I follow his instructions and run over to my bedroom and open that window. There’s a fire escape back here, so I climb onto it and search for him.
Jake is on the ground, jumping up to the ladder on the bottom of the second-floor fire escape and pulling it down. The sound of metal sliding across metal screeches in the night. In the same clothes from our trip to the Pier, he climbs up the ladder to the second-floor landing and then climbs the steep incline of the staircase that leads to mine. When he gets up here, I step back to the railing of my landing and look back at him.
His skin is flush, his chest is heaving like he ran a marathon, and his gaze is absolutely searing.
“What are you doing?” I ask despite my own racing heart. I’m pretty damn excited to see him standing out here even though I’m confused as to why.
“I think I’m supposed to make a speech about rescuing you or you rescuing me or something like that.” His lips tilt up in a smirk.
I narrow my eyes at his comment until I realize exactly what he’s talking about. He’s reenacting the final scene in Pretty Woman.
The smile wipes away from my face.
I’m not mad, nor am I upset. No, my lack of a smile is because I’m so touched, shocked, and beyond speechless.
Jake wasn’t climbing up here on a whim.
He’s here on a mission.
“ ‘So, what happens after he climbs up and rescues her?’ ” I recite the line from the film.
Jake grins that damn gorgeous smile that makes me weak in the knees. “Well? What is it?” His chest is still heaving, but it’s not from exertion. He’s staring at me in anticipation. In want and need and lust.
He’s here to save me.
I take a step forward and place a hand on his chest. His head rises with a quick inhale at my touch.
His heart pounds wildly against my palm as I lean closer and say, “ ‘She rescues him right back.’ ”
I rise on my toes and kiss him in that slow, deep way that awakens every dormant, lust-filled cell in my body. His hands grip my waist and pull me in as his tongue glides along mine, stroking me tenderly.
Through his jeans, I can feel the hard length of him, so I lift my arms around his neck and push myself against him, wanting every inch. His mouth moves down my neck and up to my earlobe, biting lightly as I grip his shirt while tingles run down to my core.
I