Page 7 of Big Burly Neighbor
How do I get him to make love to me without having to ask? I don’t think I could. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, but I’m still too shy around him. I wouldn’t know what to say. And what if he refused it? I wouldn’t have the guts to face him ever again.
Am I overthinking? I probably am.
I wake up before my alarm today. Another Saturday, one I expect to spend with Zion, but I’m too eager to wait for the birds to sing from my phone. As soon as I’m awake, I get to my feet and disable the alarm. I hop into the shower, and an idea takes form in the back of my mind.
There is a way I could convince him without having to ask him. I could try to seduce him. He’s made it clear that he wants me—maybe if I make him aroused enough, he’ll let go of his restraints. If I look alluring enough, he won’t care about whatever is stopping him.
A smile stretches my lips. That’s a plan. A solid plan.
I turn my warm lights on, going around the house with my towel wrapped around my chest. After lighting up a couple of candles, I fluff the couch pillows and make my bed. Heat spreads inside me when I think about getting the sheets all messy again, with Zion’s body against mine, my fists tugging on the covers as he kisses me. Clenching my teeth together, I swallow the knot of nerves and take a step back to study my room.
As with every other part of my tiny apartment, I did everything I could to make it aesthetic. Like out of a Pinterest picture. The fluffy white duvet goes with the several pillows, and the satin cases display several pastel colors from baby blue to light pink. There are candles on the nightstands and white lamps that look like mushrooms. I glance at the fairy light strings I stretched over the headboard. Since I use the nightstand lights to read, I don’t often use the fairy ones, but I think today I deserve it.
There’s little option when it comes to sexy clothes in my closet. An idea blooms in my head, and I flush at how naughty it is. I’ve never been a girl for these things, but Zion changed me. He makes me want to try new things, and he makes me feel confident enough to want to put on a tiny dress for him. So, that’s what I do. I pluck the mini dress from its hanger and stare at it. Once, it was a cocktail dress, a short black thing that hugged my curves and was supposed to be worn with tights and a scarf. I washed it on hot one day and it shrunk.
And it’s exactly what I’m going to wear. With nothing underneath.
I struggle a bit to put it on, the fabric hugging my curves like a vacuum, then I adjust my breasts on the cleavage. The hem rides too high around my thighs, and I have to take small steps so it won’t roll to my hips. Do I look ridiculous? Probably. But something tells me Zion would like this. With some luck, I’ll drive him so crazed with lust he won’t keep his hands in his pockets this time.
Taking a deep breath, I open the living room curtains. I need him to see me. My cheeks grow warm, and I pretend I’m an actress, putting on some pop music as I make my breakfast. My coffeemaker pours hot liquid into the glass jar as I sway my hips to the song. I eat a bite of chocolate cake, my stomach churning too hard to eat more. When I glance at the windows, I glimpse a silhouette in the apartment opposite mine, a shadow passing between blinds.
Nerves clutch at my throat. I swallow hard and keep going, turning my back to the window and dancing to the song. I close my eyes and move my body, imagining Zion sitting behind me. Watching me, his hungry eyes devouring my curves, his hands clutched.
I want to tell him he doesn’t need to hold back. He can touch me. Undress me. Explore me. He can do whatever he wants to me, and I will not utter a complaint.
Making a one-eighty, I face the window, then bend forward to clean the kitchen counters. Not that they need any cleaning, but I pretend there’s a dirty spot that forces me to scrub with all my might. My breasts sway from side to side, and the dress rides higher around my thighs. Before I can think better of it, I turn around and bend to fumble with the last drawer. Zion will have an eyeful of my ass now, and maybe more, and if he doesn’t want to take me after this, I have no idea what else to do.
A hurried knock on my door has me straightening my spine. He’s already here? Wow, that was fast. He only watched the first part of the show, the one where I danced in the living room.
Relief washes over when I do the math. He hasn’t seen my ass-cheeks then. Good. I’m still not sure that was a good idea. Rushing to the door, I grip the knob, then pause. Deep breaths, Aileen. Deep breaths or you’re going to have a heart attack. I press a palm to my chest, feeling the organ inside my ribcage pumping so hard I might go dizzy.
God, I’m such a coward. I wish I could be braver than this, but that’s not who I am... And a part of me hopes Zion wants me the way I am, no need to pretend. Just to make sure, I put a mysterious smile on my face (or the closest I can get to that) as I open the door, cocking my head so my hair spills down, touching my exposed shoulder.
Zion could be wearing any expression now. His usual serious one, or that tiny smile he has for me only, or that lustful one with his eyes burning. There’s none in front of me now.
Because it’s not Zion.
Another man stands there, a guy I don’t remember ever seeing. He’s average-looking, as tall as I am. An ordinary man or he would be that if it wasn’t for the look on his face. His brows up in a smug look, and his gaze takes a long once-over of my body. I hide behind the door, shivers of warning racing down my arms.
“Mm, can I help you?”
He chuckles, his upper lip pulling up. “Oh, you definitely can.” And he sprawls his hand on my door and shoves it toward me.
I stumble back, losing my balance and letting go of the door. Surprise makes me choke, and I slam my eyes shut for a moment, dazed. What is happening? Who is he? A thud makes me snap my attention at the man again. He’s closed the door and prowls in my direction.
The way he looks at me is the same as a predator would have. The alarm sets off in my head, and adrenaline shoots into my bloodstream. I don’t know who he is, but he’s forced his way into my apartment, and he doesn’t look like he’s here with good intentions.
“Who are you?” I cry out, stumbling back to my living room. Searching for a way out, an escape, a weapon. Anything that can help me. But he’s forced me away from the kitchen, the only place with sharp objects. Here in my living room, there are only candles, books, and my canvas.
He stretches that maniacal smile. “I’m Billy. Your neighbor.” He motions for the building next to mine. “And I have been watching your show. It was a great one.” And he drags his gaze down my body again.
Oh, no. The show wasn’t meant for him, but how could I know he would watch? Zion was right. Zion was painfully right when he warned me of the wrong sort of people peeking into my place.
“You weren’t supposed to see it,” I mutter, backing off against my dining table.
Billy grabs my arm, his leering eyes feasting on my curves. “That doesn’t matter. I watched it, and I came here to join it.” He smirks, then yanks me toward the couch. He shoves me there and I stumble onto the pillows, raising my head to find him closing the curtains. “I know you like to show off, like the good slut you are, but I don’t want to risk it.”
A hollow grows in my chest. This is so bad. How am I getting out of this one?
