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But most striking are his eyes. They’re as dark as his hair, yet so intense, I feel like they can see every part of me.
I shift my weight and clear my throat. He’s been watching me silently as I inspect his features, and I can feel my face heat with embarrassment as I realize just how long I’ve been staring.
“Hi,” I say, the word coming out hoarse and cracked.
“Hi,” he parrots back, and heat spirals through me at the word.
His voice is rich and smooth, so deep I can practically feel it vibrating in my bones…and other places.
“I just wanted to stop by to introduce myself and apologize for the noise. I’m Jesse Lee, your new neighbor.”
He jerks a thumb toward the apartment next door as I fight to suppress a groan. All those words, in that voice, are making my lady bits clench with desire. A rush of heat and moisture floods my core as I choke out an introduction.
“Nice to m-meet you,” I stutter. “I’m Eden. Eden Walsh.”
“Eden.”
A whimper escapes before I can stop it. My name on this man’s lips makes my inner walls clench down, hard. His nostrils flare slightly, and his gaze dips to the juncture between my thighs and back up so fast, I’m sure I must’ve imagined it.
“I’ll try to keep it down,” he says, and did his voice get even deeper?
A shiver trickles down my spine as I nod. I want to squeeze my thighs together, but refrain, knowing it will be too obvious if I move now. A tendon twitches in his jaw as he stares at me for a few silent beats. Then, with one firm nod, he spins and stalks away.
I fight the urge to poke my head out and watch him retreat. Swinging the door closed, I turn the deadbolt and lean back against it. The tension drains out of me, and I shake my head in wonder.
What the fuck was that? I’ve never had such an intense reaction to someone, and I sure as shit never ended up with soaked underwear after a simple introduction.
Sure, Jesse is probably the hottest guy I’ve ever seen—in real life, anyway—but to get halfway to orgasm by the sound of his voice, alone? That’s the kind of shit my romance novels are made of.
My gaze flies over to my bookshelf again, my eyes bugging out as I consider the possibility. Could Jesse be…?
No. Absolutely ridiculous. There’s no fucking way a vampire is moving in next door to me on the day the race revealed themselves to the world.
Right?
2
CHOCOLATE FIXES EVERYTHING
I watch the blink, blink, blink of the cursor for a full hour, but the words won’t come. The new novel I started last week is still in its infancy, and world-building is hard enough when you’re not questioning everything you thought you knew about said world.
Can a vampire enter a home without being invited in?
Can he touch a cross?
Can he control minds? Well, that one is a definite probably, considering the footage I saw from Dublin on the news yesterday.
I already know they can survive in sunlight. And, apparently, they don’t kill their victims, if that Franklin Belloy guy can be believed. Of course, what else was he supposed to say? We rip humans’ throats out and drain them dry when we feed, but don’t worry, it’s all good?
Shit, do they even drink blood?
Closing my laptop with a sigh, I lean back in my desk chair. A creaking sound echoes through my silent apartment, and I rock back and forth, trying to create a rhythmic beat with the noise. Stilling, I lean my head back and groan.
Writer’s block is a bitch.
Pushing myself up, I head into the kitchen. I need to focus on something else. Something completely unrelated to writing, books, and vampires. A mind-cleanse.
And I know just the thing.
