13. Weston

As luck would have it, Renee is at her door when I walk off the elevator. I guess Fate is deciding not to be a dick to me today.

The Thai delivery guy is in the hallway, holding out a bag of food to her. It smells delicious.

I scowl and walk past like it isn’t my business that this is the third night in a row she’s gotten delivery. But it seems a shame to let the moment pass. “Takeout again? Hey, if you can’t cook, at least you can dial. Some lucky dude somewhere is going to snap you right up.”

Renee’s eyes lock into mine over the delivery guy’s shoulder. “Jealous?”

“Of your takeout or the lucky future husband who’s going to get to enjoy all that processed food clogging his arteries?”

But even as I say it, the thought of another guy laughing with her over a box of noodles makes my chest do this painful clenching thing I’ve never felt before.

The delivery guy is looking around frantically like he’s desperate to get out of the crossfire. As soon as I step aside to make room for him in the hallway, he bolts.

Smart move.

“Don’t worry,” Renee says when he’s gone. “I’ll keep my ‘lucky guy’ worked out enough that his arteries won’t have a chance to clog.”

My mouth goes dry. I’m pretty damn sure she isn’t talking about accompanying this hypothetical someone to Jazzercise class. Not with that cocked eyebrow and saucy half-smirk.

I know she’s trying to push my buttons and I despise that it’s working. But also… the thought of Renee naked and moaning isn’t so bad in its own right—as long as I blot out the thought of her doing it with someone else.

“Lucky guy, indeed. Nothing makes a guy hornier than constant nagging in his ear.”

She scrunches up her nose. It’s equal parts fierce and adorable. “Look, asshole: unless you’re willing to move out and find a different place to haunt with all your brooding misery, we have to live at the same place.”

“Or you could move, Princess P.”

Her eyes flash and her nostrils flare. “Fuck you, Wee Willy Weston.”

“If you want to take it inside, I’ll be more than happy to show you there isn’t anything ‘wee’ about me.”

“Believe me, the very last thing on Earth I want to do is ‘take it inside’ with you.” Her fists are balled up at her sides again, just like they were the first time we crossed paths. Like the nose scrunch she does, it’s fucking adorable. “As I was saying, unless you’re willing to take your sparkling personality and inflict it on another building in L.A., we’re stuck with each other here. And we work at the same place.”

“You are one for overstating the obvious.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes at me.

“Don’t do that,” I snarl.

“Do what?”

“Don’t roll your fucking eyes at me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Then, just because she can, she rolls her eyes again, super obvious and melodramatic. “Can I go on?”

I shrug and cross my arms. “Be my guest.”

“Since we live about twenty feet from each other, and we work sometimes even closer than that, we should figure out a way to get along.”

“Do tell.” Internally, my mind is reeling with ways we can “get along.” On her knees, on her back… Plenty of positions that would make “getting along” quite satisfactory.

“Yeah. Like you stay in your lane and I won’t run you over.”

“Stay in my lane?”

“Are you a fucking parrot?”

She’s so damn sassy and as much as there’s a part of me that hates it, there’s a part of me that likes it even more. That part is my dick.

“You know, you might need to consider getting laid. You sound a little bit uptight.”

She cringes. “And maybe you get laid too much. You’re certainly walking like you have a hockey stick shoved up your ass.” Her smile is sweet, way too sweet to belong on that gutter mouth of hers.

I hold up my hands. “You know, I don’t think we aren’t getting anywhere with this plan of yours.”

“Again, I’m not interested in ‘getting anywhere’ with you.”

“I suppose Jackass in Unit 2 is more your speed?” I jerk my thumb toward Yates’s place. “He’s a piece of shit, by the way. You should stay away from him.”

“That’s hilarious. He told me the same thing about you.”

The smirk vanishes from my face. “I’m not kidding. For your own good, you should stay away from him.”

I would hate to see her—even her—get hurt by that fucking tool. He’s done enough damage already.

She stares at me curiously for a second, then she shakes her head as if she’s warding off the thoughts. “Just mind your own business, okay? And I’ll mind mine.”

I nod and watch her storm back into Sutton’s apartment. I don’t move until she’s gone, because watching her walk—even when it’s at lightspeed, as though she can’t get away from me fast enough—is an event. This is a woman whose walk deserves second, third, and fourth looks.

Only when Sutton’s door slams behind her do I turn and skulk into my place.

It’s good to be home. It’d be even better if she was under me or if she had those luscious lips wrapped around my dick.

My dick is hard enough right now, just from talking to her, that I’m stupid enough to wonder if I could sweet talk her into coming over. Maybe convince her to slip into those panties I’ve been carrying around for a couple weeks now.

I look down at my dick. It’s not going down on its own and, if I were a betting man, I’d say the odds of Princess P coming to take care of it aren’t very good.

And as much as I will it, as much I stare and try to think of other things—nuns, grandmothers, nuns’ grandmothers—it just seems to be getting harder.

Because, goddammit, I want her. I want to bend her over the counter and ram my cock inside of her. I want her on her knees looking up at me, and I want her on top of me looking down. I want her naked and clothed, laughing and moaning, in the morning and at night.

Fuck. Princess Polyester has me hooked.

This train of thought isn’t helping my predicament. That means it’s time for the one never-fail solution: the coldest shower known to man.

It’s almost painful to walk when I’m this hard, but I manage to get to the bathroom and undress, then step into the shower. The first blast of icy water takes my breath away. But I stand under the frigid waterfall and suffer.

One minute passes. Then two. But five minutes of torturing myself with icicles later, I’m still as achingly hard as I was when I stumbled in here.

My never-fail solution failed.

Time for Plan B.

I switch the water to hot and soap up. Then I slide my hand along the ridge of my cock. I let my eyes flutter closed. As soon as I do, images crop up like they were waiting for me.

I imagine Renee bent over in front of me, hands flat against the wall, while I pound into her. She moans on every thrust and pushes her ass back against me. My fingers curl into the groove of her hips and her whimpers echo off the tile walls around us as she begs for more. Her tight pussy is wet and hot as she milks my cock.

It isn’t just the body that draws me to her. It’s the whip of her tongue, the sassy comebacks designed to cut me down to size. It’s the light in her eyes. It’s the oh-so-innocent cherry panties she doesn’t even know I have.

But the body is certainly worth it. Full breasts, heavy in my hands, with pebbled nipples begging to be touched and tasted. The long legs and tight ass. The lips I am dying to feel wrapped around my dick.

It’s all too much to resist. Too much to need.

My body tightens and I stroke harder, faster, breath coming shallower and shallower. I picture Renee looking back at me over her shoulder. I picture two words coming from her lips.

Harder, Weston.

And just like that, my body fucking erupts. I groan from deep in my chest. I couldn’t hold that groan in if my fucking life depended on it.

I come harder than I’ve ever come before, emptying again and again until I feel like a dried-out husk. The sensation makes my knees buckle and I sink to the floor.

It takes a long time to return to my senses. The hot water pounds on my head and shoulders. After who-the-fuck-knows how long, I shove myself back upright.

There are way too many reasons why I shouldn’t even fantasize about this woman. I can’t be with Renee. She’s going to be my neighbor for some as-yet unspecified length of time. Even worse than that, she works for the team. I know damn well what happens when you eat where you shit.

But the mere thought of the girl just brought me literally to my knees. If fantasizing about fucking her makes me come like that, being with her might just…

No. I will not fuck the girl next door.

I. Will. Not.

No matter how bad I want to.