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“The Difference”
-Devin Dawson
Chapter One
EASTON
As hot water streams down my back, I grip my shaft and pump it with visions of Tatum. Her long chestnut-brown hair, ocean-blue eyes, and full curves consume my mind.
Like every morning for the past two months, I start my day with inappropriate thoughts. Not only does Tatum work for me at my surf and swimsuit shop but she also rents the place across the hall.
A double temptation.
When I first interviewed Tatum, I felt an immediate attraction, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Not only would it be unprofessional, but I could tell she was going through something just by the vague details of her life.
She moved into the furnished apartment above my shop with two small bags. Being the nosy bastard I am, I searched her name on social media but found nothing. Not even a Facebook profile or Spotify account.
Tatum has no digital fingerprint.
Yet I didn't care because something made me want to help and protect her. That may or may not come back to bite me in the ass someday, but for now, I'm using every opportunity to get to know her better.
Aside from the mysterious aspects regarding her past, she's quiet and keeps to herself. A complete one-eighty from the last person who lived across from me.
But Tatum….she’s exactly what wet dreams are made of.
The tightness in my balls overpowers me as the build-up shoots down my spine. I press a palm to the shower wall and brace myself. With my eyes closed, I picture Tatum in the bikini she tried on last week at work.
My fucking knees nearly buckled when she walked out. Even Nova, another one of my employees, was speechless.
I know Tatum’s older and probably sees me as a goofy surfer boy, but the things I'd do to her—if she’d allow it—would send me straight to hell.
I'm seconds away from exploding when a screeching sound distracts me. My eyes pop open as I realize it's the smoke detector.
“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” I hiss, then turn off the water. My cock is still hard and aching for release, but I wrap a towel around my waist and walk to my bedroom. Every alarm in my apartment is screaming in protest.
I take out the battery and try to reset it. The high-pitched beeping continues.
Next, I go to the living room and do the same.
The motherfuckers still blare.
The sound of the hamster wheel turning steals my attention. I look at the cage near the bookshelf, and George stares at me as he runs.
“Don't give me the stink eye. I'm trying.”
I go to the kitchen and know I've found the one that's making me go deaf. Grabbing a chair, I step onto it, and seconds later, my door whips open.
There stands a frazzled Tatum in her tight pajama shorts and tank top. Her nipples are hard and standing at full attention.
Another image burned into my brain.
“What in the—?”
Her lips freeze as she looks up at me through her lashes and lands on my bare, wet torso.
I reach up and twist the cover from the detector, then pull out the battery.
“Oh...that's what took you so long.” She swallows hard as her eyes linger on the towel.
“Yeah.” I jump off the chair, then slide it back into place. “Shit like this would happen at the worst possible time.”
Of course, I don't mention I was jerking off to images of her. I don’t need to embarrass myself before nine o’clock in the morning.
“Sorry for barging in. I thought something was wrong.” She crosses her arms as if she realized she's half naked too.
I raise a brow and smirk. “You were worried about me?”
“Don't be arrogant. I was coming to rescue George.”
Her words are firm, but her body language says otherwise. She's still staring at my erection poking through the fabric.
“That hamster gets more love than I do.” I scowl at him but can't deny he's the cutest fur ball I've ever seen. He's become the shop's little mascot and hangs out in the office when I'm there.
Tatum smiles at George as he continues to feverishly run on his wheel. She grabs the treat bag that's next to the cage.
“Good morning, Sir George,” she coos.
I can't hold back the grin on my face. She gave him that nickname when she first met him. Once she places the stick between the bars, he immediately takes it, then buries it underneath his bedding.
“I'll be ready in twenty,” I tell her when she turns around and slides her gaze down my body again. We’re working the morning shift together, but I have to unlock the door for her.
Tatum stands in silence as her eyes linger. I feel like an art model who's being painted for a college class. Folding my hands over my groin, I clear my throat and wait for her to snap out of her trance.
