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Asking my “he’ssonot your type” neighbor to sex me up probably isn’t the smartest thing in the world since our properties touch. But he’s the most magnetic guy who’s ever entered my orbit with his grin that says he’s thinking something absolutely filthy while you’re standing there babbling about the neighborhood recycling program. A once-and-done situation with this man would undoubtedly be the highlight of my otherwise boring sexual life, even if it means our casual hellos and goodbyes forever after will be a little awkward.
So yeah, I’m seventy percent sure this is a bad idea. But I’m a hundred percent sure I don’t care.
I shift another inch in his direction as he props his shoulder on the side of the house and smolders at me.
“This isn’t helping, Gracie.”
“What’s not helping?” I wet my suddenly dry lips, and his lids lower as he tracks the motion.
“You. Standing there.” His eyes rake down my body. “It’s not convincing me that everything about you isn’t hot.”
The heat in my cheeks travels down the same path his eyes just took, and I press my thumb against the cold metal of my ring, imagining the word sinking into my skin.
Bold.
It allows me to stay put and voice the words that have been living under my skin for months.
“You’re one to talk.”
His brows arch in surprise, getting lost under the dark fall of curls obscuring his forehead. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” He’s not that much taller than me, and I barely resist the urge to wrap one of those curls around my finger. “Head chef at Adore. That’s a big deal. I dream about your sticky pork belly, you know.”
The flirt in his posture disappears, and his whole body goes loose in pleasure. “You’ve tried my food?”
If I’d known getting such a delighted smile out of him was this easy, I’d have talked to him about his restaurant ages ago. His easy body language helps relax me too, and I volley back. “Yep. I know you donated all the pork chops for the neighborhood cookout on the Fourth too.”
He lifts a shoulder, brushing off his good deed. “And I know you’re an OSHA attorney. Again, hot.”
I resist the urge to squirm as the conversation turns back to me.
“I push paperwork and never see the inside of a courtroom.Superhot.” I’d rather set myself on fire than have even a mildly uncomfortable conversation with someone, which is why I stick with contract work. And it’s also why it took so damn long for me to be standing this close to Cam.
“Workplace compliance is sexy,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I know you host a book club for your friends every month.”
“Mm-hmm.” I shove my hands in my back pockets, hoping the motion hides my surprise that he knows about that. He and Jeff must’ve had quite the conversation.
“I’ve always wondered what kind of books you read.” He presses his thumb against his pillowy lower lip in thought. God, that move must’ve slayed thousands of women over the years. “True crime? Biographies? Something too literary for a dirtbag chef?”
I don’t need to touch my ring this time. He’s making it so easy.
“No murder. No bios.” My lips twitch into a playful twist. “We mostly read erotica.”
He groans and reaches out to hook a finger through my belt loop. We’re so close now that his fogged breath mixes with mine. It’s the most intimacy we’ve ever shared, but it’s not enough. Not nearly.
“No shit?That’swhat you’ve been doing behind your curtains all those Wednesday nights?”
I let myself be reeled in until the toes of my shoes brush his.
Now that he’s finally touching me, I’m brave enough to rest my fingers on his waist. Once I do, I decide I like it so much that I might as well slide my hands under the hem of his sweater. My skin is cold from the night air—I really shouldn’t be out here without a coat—and he yelps and then returns the favor, slipping the tips of his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. They’re freezing, but that’s okay. I’m burning up.
“Sure is.” I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from his. It’s the first time we’ve been this close, and they’re so blue. Carolina blue. Cornflower blue. Cameron blue. “So why aren’t you at the restaurant tonight?”
“Burst pipe, huge flood.” He sighs. “We’re closed for repairs.”
“Oh God, how frustrating.”
“Definitely.” But he doesn’t look that bothered as his fingers shift downward a fraction, brushing the edge of my underwear. “Then again, this is my first New Year’s Eve off in a decade.”
