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“Morning to you too,” I murmur, glancing back over my shoulder and seeing the way his gaze roams over my body, stopping at my ass with a deep hunger. His eyes lazily trail back up until they meet mine, and the smirk resting across his lips is enough to make my knees weak. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Alex’s grin widens, his eyes expressing everything he’s not saying out loud. Though he doesn’t need to voice his comment, I hear it loud and clear.
Finally getting the door locked, I turn around, stepping into him, barely able to refrain from resting my hand against his bare chest. “You know,” I start, tilting my chin and gazing up at him, lowering my voice to a flirty whisper. “There seems to be a monster-sized dildo suction cupped to the wall above my door, and something tells me you’re not about to help me get it down any time soon. But here’s the problem. You know, that just so happens to be my favorite one, and I was just curious what you expect a girl to do when she’s lying in bed getting all hot and heavy and her new favorite toy is so far out of reach?”
Alex groans low, his eyes flaming like molten lava, and he inches away from me as though he doesn’t trust himself not to toss me over his shoulder, barge through my door, and show me just how much I don’t need the mistletoe monster cock dangling from my wall.
He drags a hand down his face, visibly needing a moment to compose himself, especially now that there’s a very large bulge appearing in the front of his workout shorts. God, I wonder if he’s the type to let me drop to my knees and take him in my mouth right here in the middle of the hallway. “Don’t you need to be getting to work?” he questions, his voice coming out all high and squeaky.
I laugh, never so proud of myself in my whole damn life.
My gaze trails down his body, making a point of looking at his very erect junk. “Between you, me, and your fist, one of us needs to be getting to work.”
Alex grunts and adjusts himself as though that could possibly help the situation. Then ignoring the obvious fire poker staring right at me, he meets my stare. “You need me to walk you to work?”
I shake my head, my cheeks flushing at the kind thought, even now while he’s probably very uncomfortable and dying to get his hand down his pants to work out his frustrations. “You don’t think I can handle myself?” I ask.
“Mace, I know damn well you can handle yourself,” he tells me. “But that’s not going to stop me from wanting to walk you to work.”
I give him a small smile. “I think you have other things you need to be dealing with right now,” I tell him. “But if you’re a good boy and agree to walk me home after I get off work, I might just let you think about me while you sort yourself out.”
Alex laughs and steps into me, reaching around me and curling a tight fist around my hair before gently pulling, forcing my chin up as his lips hover just above mine, stealing the breath right out of my lungs. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mace,” he murmurs in that deep, thick tone, his chest rumbling against mine as I feel his hardness against my waist.
And just like that, he’s gone, and his door closes between us, leaving me panting in the hallway.
I blow out a heavy breath, needing a minute to sort myself out. There’s just something about my new sexy neighbor. I’ve never felt so intrigued by someone in my whole life.
Everything about him draws me in. I’m so desperate to know who he is, to know what it’s like to feel his hands caressing my body, to feel the way he’d stretch me, to know how he tastes. But more than that, I want to know what it feels like to fall for him, to be the only woman he ever wants to look at.
Shit. I’m definitely getting in over my head.
Realizing I’ve been standing in the hall, gawking after him for way too long, I get my ass moving. Scrambling through the hall and down the stairs, I race out into the fresh Brooklyn morning. The second I’m hit in the face by the cool spring breeze, I finally feel my head starting to clear.
Mr. Alex . . . wait. I don’t know his last name. How am I supposed to curse him and his wicked charm if I don’t know his last name? Shit. I’m going to have to fix that soon. Though, in order to do that, I’m going to have to get close to him again, and I don’t know just how much longer I can resist him. Though, it’s becoming extremely evident that his self-control is a lot better than mine. Hell, at this point, I think it’s safe to say that I don’t have any at all.
As I walk along the street, I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and call Nat, listening to all her insane updates about her new bar friend, Sullivan, and the whole time I gape, never having known Nat to go back for seconds with the same guy, no matter how well he puts it down. Especially considering that it’s barely been a little over twenty-four hours since she met the guy.
He must have really blown her mind.
I ooh and ahh at all the appropriate times as she tells me everything I need to know about this guy, but as I turn the final corner and peer down the street toward High Voltage Ink, I come to a stop.
People barge around me, muttering under their breaths and telling me to get out of the fucking way, but all I can do is stare at the array of cop cars lining the street and the police tape sectioning off High Voltage Ink.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I breathe, taking in the crowd of people hovering around the shop, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
“Ky?” Nat says, clearly picking up on the confusion in my tone. “You good?”
“I, umm . . . don’t know. I have to go,” I tell her, picking up my pace and all but storming down the street. “Something is going on at High Voltage Ink.”
“Shit, okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
I mutter something before ending the call, but I can’t really be sure what the hell I said, all that matters is the shop. Shit. What if something happened to it? But what could bring all these cops here and force them to use the police tape? Unless it’s some kind of structural damage and they’re concerned about the safety of the public getting too close.
Crap. I hope it’s not because that would mean Big Jim needs to close the doors while he gets it fixed, and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to afford my rent if I can’t work for a few weeks. Though, I’m sure Viper wouldn’t mind allowing me to set up a little studio in the back of his clubhouse to keep working on his men. At least twelve of the Grim Reapers members are ongoing clients. I’m sure if I’m allowed to quickly duck inside High Voltage Ink and grab my things, I’ll be able to figure something out.
Barging through all the people, I finally get a front-row view of the chaos unfolding at High Voltage Ink and realize there’s a shitload more cops here than I’d originally assumed. There are too many of them hovering out front to be able to see through the window, but as I scan the grim expressions on their faces, my heart races.
A familiar black jacket catches my eye, and I find Big Jim talking to a few of the cops. His head is down, and while he looks frustrated and worked up, he also looks devastated. His voice rises over the crowd, and it's clear their conversation is getting heated, so I grab the police tape and lift it over my head. “Jim,” I call out, striding toward them as a cop reaches for me, probably assuming I’m just some eager bystander looking for information.
