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Luck is on my side—the blinds are open in his living room, giving me a clear view as he offers her a seat on the couch and hands her a glass of wine. I snap a picture, and through the zoomed in lens I see her hands shake as she takes it. They speak for a while, him still standing while she drinks the contents of the glass.
When she’s done with the drink, he smiles at her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He grabs a manila envelope off of his kitchen counter and hands it to her. I take another photo as she opens it, but I can’t see the contents. Whatever’s inside makes her visibly relax, her shoulders sagging in relief. She slides it into her purse and when he reaches a hand down to her, she takes it, letting him lead her through the apartment to another room. I can only see the edge of a bed from my angle, but it must be his bedroom. I take photos of him pulling her into his arms before he shuts the door. Dark curtains blot out that room, so it looks like that’s all I’m going to get. Should be enough, though.
My mind wanders as soon as I no longer need to focus on getting the photos. Of course it does. My obsession is just a glance above me in the upstairs apartment. I shouldn’t look up.
Too late.
The lights are on in the living room and kitchen, but I don’t see Mona. It’s for the best. Despite the continuation of our carnal dreams, we haven’t spoken since our initial discussion. I’m about to turn away when the lights go on in her bedroom.
“Fuck me,” I curse aloud as I take in the sight of her. She’s stripped down to her underwear—a lacy black thong that highlights the ample curve of her hips and ass and a matching bra that presses her tits together. She goes into an ensuite bathroom, then returns with a jar. Opening it, Mona scoops out a dollop of lotion and rubs it across her arms in tantalizingly slow motions. Stroking her body with each pass of her fingers, she moves to her chest, then down to her legs, propping one foot up on the bed and bending over so that her breasts threaten to spill out of her bra.
It’s almost like she knows I’m here. Every motion feels like she’s calling to me. Daring me to do something about the display. Moments from our dreams race through my mind, taunting me.She wants me to see her. She needs me to see her. She wants me to go up there and…
No, get yourself together! This is an invasion of her privacy. The dreams mean nothing. I attempt to convince myself that I’m imagining things, looking away with a shaky exhale. My hand grips my thigh so hard I might bruise my leg as I fight against my growing hunger.
Against my better judgment, I glance back up to see that she’s wrapped herself in a sheer black robe. So flimsy. Easy to tear off.Fuck. My hand goes to the car door and I’m outside in an instant. Standing in the dark street, frozen in place as I wait to see what she does next.
Mona wanders into her kitchen, pours herself a glass of water, then moves toward the window. I know the moment she sees me. Her eyes flare wider and she spills her drink mid-sip. We stare at each other for what feels like ages, on the edge of something dangerous.
She breaks eye contact first, setting her glass down and bringing her hands down to untie her robe and wipe at the water on her chest. Her eyes meet mine again and her lips part as she lets the robe slip down off her shoulder. Daring me again.
It’s too much. The demon inside me propels me forward before the rest of me can argue. I stride to her door, sparing one last glance up at her window to see her eyebrows shoot up in alarm. I reach the door and consider knocking, but something in me knows I don’t need to. That she doesn’t want me to. The handle turns without resistance and I yank the door open.
She didn’t lock the door. She wants me here. She wants this.
I climb the stairs two at a time until I reach her living room. The place I’ve watched her and dreamed of having her so many times. Her bedroom door slams closed and I stalk to it, waiting outside to listen. Giving myself a moment to think. To try to clear my head before I do something insane. But I hear her gasp and that’s all I need to tear the door open.
“Max!” Mona cries my name in a breathy gasp as she stumbles back toward the bed.
“Tell me to leave. Tell me I’m crazy. That you don’t want this,” I say, using my last shred of reason not yet consumed by lust.
She’s shaking, but her eyes glitter with excitement. Her reply comes as little more than a whisper. “We both know that would be a lie.”
15
When I get home from burlesque class, I see Max’s car sitting in front of my building. A thrill of anticipation runs down my spine as I make my way inside, even though I know he isn’t here for me. I tell myself that I just want to get a view of the beautiful night outside when I open the blinds in my bedroom. I tell myself I need to try on this lingerie to see if it will work for my performance. I tell myself that I need to moisturize as I rub lotion all over my bare skin.
With each thing that absolutely doesn’t have to do with Max sitting outside in his car, my arousal builds. When I can’t stand it any longer, I move to the window, hoping he might still be out there watching me instead of working.
My excitement sharpens when I see him and I spill the water I’m sipping. Looming in the darkness, he stands beside his car and rakes his hungry stare across my body as I wipe the water away and let the robe fall off my shoulder. He moves suddenly, darting toward my building, and I freeze.What the hell am I doing?
A breathless moment goes by as I wait for what comes next. I realize with dread that I didn’t lock my front door when I came in, and it creaks open. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs and I panic, racing into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.
Shit, I can’t believe this is happening. I hold my body as still as possible, but when I hear breathing on the other side of the door, a gasp escapes my lips. Stumbling away from the door right before it crashes open, I behold him.
Max’s wild black eyes bore into me, his pulse ticking in the side of his neck as he looms in the doorway. His black button down’s sleeves are pushed up to the elbow and his dark jeans hug his muscular thighs, a large bulge straining against the zipper. He looks taller and broader than before, as if his presence extends beyond his physical frame.
I cry out his name in shock, moving back until my knees collide with the bed.
“Tell me to leave. Tell me I’m crazy. That you don’t want this.” His thick forearms flex as his hands ball into fists at his side like he’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab me.
My body starts to shake. I’m not sure if it’s from fear or desperation to feel his touch. Ever since the dreams began, he’s all I can think about. I tried to ignore them, tried to pretend they didn’t awaken unknown desires within me. But with Max standing here, looking at me with a frenzied need I’ve never known, I can’t pretend anymore.
“We both know that would be a lie,” I whisper, holding his gaze and feeling its fire burn across my bare skin.
“Say it. Mona,please.” He’s shaking too, every muscle in his body tensing.
I can’t. I need this just as much as he does. I take a step forward, my legs threatening to give out under me. “You’re not crazy. I want this. I need—”
