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My phone is only silent for a few seconds before it starts to ring. I toss it on the bed, knowing that Sophia’s curiosity and imagination are both getting the better of her.
She’d never let a stranger see her this exposed.
Normally, I wouldn’t either, but the way the man next door is staring at me makes me want to twirl in place to give him a glimpse of every angle of my body.
My phone quiets briefly before it starts up again, the jarring sound of the ringer suddenly overshadowed by a loud knock at my door.
“Ms. Walsh, it’s Harold.”
My gaze darts back to the man at the window. His arms are crossed over his chest. His eyes are pinned to my every move.
I’m tempted to tell Harold to come back tomorrow, but the air in my apartment is too hot and stuffy for me to work or sleep.
I race to the clothing rack in the corner. I yank off the first thing my hand lands on.
It’s a man’s white dress shirt I picked up on sale last winter to wear with one of my favorite skirts. I wrap it around me, buttoning it as I call out, “I’m coming.”
Once I swing open the door, I turn back to look at the window, but my gorgeous neighbor has vanished, along with the hope I had that I’d get to see more of him tonight.
Chapter 6
Rocco
I take my time in the shower, trusting that when I’m done, Harold Demarco will be long gone.
He interrupted a moment between my almost nude neighbor and me thirty minutes ago.
I caught a brief glimpse of her in a bra and yoga shorts before she draped what looked like a man’s dress shirt over her body.
I haven’t seen a guy in her apartment, so I’m assuming the shirt belongs to her. I’m hoping like hell it does.
The apartment she lives in has been devoid of blinds for more than a year. I stopped glancing in that direction after I saw a man fucking a redheaded woman against one of the windows months ago.
I locked eyes with her, she tempted me with a finger curl to join them and I declined with a shake of my head.
When I’m with a woman, I want her all to myself. I don’t share.
Stepping out of the shower stall, I wrap a white towel around my waist. Pushing my hair back from my forehead I walk into the main living space.
A quick glance at the window rewards me with the sight of my neighbor standing with her back to me, the dress shirt still covering every inch of her skin except for her toned legs.
Harold is next to her, a phone against his ear as he shakes his head.
The blonde beauty lives in a dump. The building should have been condemned years ago, but the owner orders Harold to patch the problems whenever he’s forced to so he can keep the inspectors at bay.
I’ve watched dozens of tenants come and go from my perch across the street. The walls in the apartment I’m staring into have thousands of stories to tell, but none as interesting as the one I’m watching now.
Harold is on the move. He crosses the apartment headed straight for the door.
My pulse leaps, my cock hardening at the thought of my neighbor being alone again.
“Fuck,” falls from my lips when Harold swings open the door and a woman is standing there. She’s average height with brown hair bobbing around her shoulders.
She pushes her way past him and approaches the blonde.
Words are exchanged between the three of them before the brunette grabs a pair of jeans hung over the back of a chair and shoves them into my neighbor’s hands.
I watch as she walks toward the bathroom with even steps, the pink streaks in her hair catching the overhead light.
