Page 10 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Guy Next Door

Done.

Good girl. Now touch yourself and I’m going to tell you what to do. Where is your hand?

Exactly where you told me to put it.

Slower.

That's cruel.

I know. Slower.

I slow down until it's barely anything, until the fan and my own breathing are the loudest things in the cabin.

Tell me what you'd do. If you were here.

I'd put you on the edge of your bed and get your thighs over my shoulders and take my time licking and sucking your swollen clit. Now faster.

I make a sound into the pillow that I'm glad nobody is awake to hear. I can barely hold the phone.

Say something else.

You'd be loud. You’d be screaming my name.

I'm close.

Good. Don't stop.

I come so hard I see stars, for a man whose face I have never seen. Then I lie there while my heartbeat comes down.

That was?…

I know. Tell me you’re smiling.

I'm smiling.

Good. Go to sleep, gorgeous.

I turn the fan up and pull the sheet over myself, overwhelmed with a relief so complete it nearly makes me laugh.

How silly I was to think my neighbor could’ve been my text buddy. This mystery man made me come with his texts alone. He asks questions and teases me and makes me feel like I’m the center of the universe.

Harris Trent could never have done that in a hundred years.

Chapter Four

HARRIS

I've been awake since before first light, but I've built nothing.

My workshop smells like cedar and machine oil. Dust turns over in the beams of sunlight from the window. I've been standing here holding a chisel like a man who's forgotten what his damn hands are for.

I'm a cobbler man.

I’m an idiot.

Megan went a little pale under those cute freckles, standing in the middle of my yard hugging her sketchbook like a life vest.

Then she went home and texted me. Except she doesn’t know it was me, she thinks it’s someone else. And I got dirty with her, because I couldn’t resist it any longer, being that close to her today.