Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I hate the man, but just watching him stand up, those trunks clinging to his powerful body and water dripping from his hair and following imaginary lines down his chest and stomach—lines I’d love to lick—is enough to make me wet. So wet, that I can feel it gather on the inside of my swimsuit and paint the inside of my thighs. So wet, that my nipples are hard against the fabric and I’m glad I paid extra for the thick supportive cups on the inside of my suit.
“Damn. When did that move in?”
I frown as I look over at my other neighbor, Sheila. She’s in the duplex across the street. I don’t like her. I mean, I don’t dislike her—not really, but she’s not one of my favorite people. She’s never done anything to me personally, but she’s definitely a busy body who puts her nose in everyone’s business. She also makes a living ignoring the girl code. When I say that, I mean that she’s sleeping with Carla’s—the woman unlucky enough to live in the house connected to Sheila—husband.
Carla is a nurse and she works the graveyard shift—which gives her man way too much time to play around and he does like to play. I don’t know what he does—besides cheat on a good woman with a skank—but whatever it is, it gives him plenty of free time.
The whole situation is sad. I want to tell Carla, but I’ve learned the hard way to stay out of people’s lives. I figure Carla is a smart woman. If she doesn’t know what’s going on, she soon will. I don’t know her that well. If I did, maybe I’d try to warn her. Come to think of it, that might be the reason I try to avoid Carla in the first place. I don’t want a deep friendship with her, because if I had one I’d feel obligated to tell her the truth.
“Last week,” I tell her, not bothering to act like I have no idea what she’s talking about. I do know, because my eyes have barely left him since I’ve been out here and Sheila being a woman… I figure she’s doing the same thing. “He lives in the unit right beside me,” I tell her reluctantly. It shouldn’t matter. From what I know of my new neighbor, he’ll shut Sheila down quick and if he doesn’t then I’ll quit having dreams about him.
I bite my lip as the memories of the dreams come to my mind. They’re getting more and more detailed. Last night I woke up from a dream so real I could feel him between my legs. I had to dig into my toy drawer, find my vibrator and finish myself off. I did that while imagining it was my new neighbor between my legs with his mouth.
It's crazy.
I hate him, and yet I’m so attracted to him that my body feels like it’s on fire just from looking at him.
I don’t even know his name…. Although, I do know his son’s name is Ryan and that the man dotes on him. Seeing him with his son is just as hot as watching the water drip down his body.
“Where?” Sheila asks, reminding me she’s there. I sigh and take a drink of my tea, before replacing the cup back on the small table beside my lounger.
“Next door to me,” I tell her, pulling my eyes from my new sexy—but asshole—neighbor.
I look up at the sky instead, closing my eyes and doing my best to dismiss the neighbor, the cute little boy, and Sheila the skank from my mind.
Sadly, none of this works.
“I’m about to go up to that man and show him what he’s been missing,” she boasts and my lips spread in an annoyed line. I figure he’ll shoot her down immediately, but who knows? Sheila is thin with fake blonde hair that all the men seem to like and even faker boobs that they definitely like—a fact Sheila plays up since she always shows more cleavage than Dolly Parton in a topless bar on all you can drink night.
Against my will, my gaze goes back to my jerk-face neighbor, his beautiful kid and Sheila. I see him turn to her as she walks along the side of the pool. My hand tightens into a fist and something close to jealousy springs up—which is crazy. You can’t be jealous over a man who treated you like the dirt he scrapes out under his fingernails. Then again, you shouldn’t be having hot sex dreams about the same man either.
“Hi there,” Sheila’s voice hits me, and with that fake little giggle she adds it feels like a cat clawing against my skin. “You look like you’re having a lot of fun over here,” she adds. “I thought I might join you.”