“Come one in,” I say sarcastically.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
After closing the door, I turn to face him with my arms folded.
He takes his time looking around my undecorated apartment. “This place is shaping up nicely.” He nods as if approving.
“I thought you were working.”
“I was. Shift ended about an hour ago.” He moves closer, his face turning serious.
I don’t know what it is but there’s an intensity about him as he moves closer to me. I drop my arms from in front of my body at the same time his hand reaches around the back of my head, cupping it and bringing our mouths together.
I let out a moan of both shock and pleasure. His tongue lines my lips, tasting them first before slipping inside of my mouth, forcing my lips to widen so he can take his fill. My core begins weeping as if it’s being given exactly what it’s been asking for for days. Ever since we left his bed back in Mexico.
“Shit,” he mutters as he pulls our lips apart and places his forehead against mine. “I wanted to see if it was just as good as it was in Mexico.”
I wrap my hand around his wrist. “Was it?”
“Better.”
Sighing, I smile and close my eyes. He was right. That kiss was better than the ones we shared in Mexico.
“You lied to me, butterfly,” his voice takes on a dark note.
I open my eyes and look up at him. “You were a stranger.”
His free hand moves to my hip, then a little lower, his fingers touching the skin of my thighs due to the short, cotton pajama shorts I wear. He gives my hip a squeeze before I begin feeling his fingers creep beneath my shirt, feeling the skin of my belly.
“Was I a stranger when I was inside of that tight little cunt?” The hand in my hair tightens as he brings our faces closer together.
I clamp my lips shut in surprise. Shaking my head, I push against his chest to move from his embrace.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest again—mainly so he can’t see my hardened nipples through the thin top I’m wearing.
His eyebrows raise and he blinks. “We shouldn’t?”
I release a long breath through my mouth. “No. I’ve been thinking about this since you left for work,” I declare, moving farther away from the door and around him, deeper into my apartment, forcing him to turn around to look at me.
“Thinking. Of course you’ve been thinking about this.”
I frown, wanting to ask him what he means by that comment, but I refuse to let myself get sidetracked.
“What we shared in Mexico was great, fantastic even, but it was short-lived. A fantasy. And this …” I wave my hand between our two bodies, “us being neighbors is real life. It’s not sustainable.”
“Sustainable?”
“Yes.” I nod. “You’re … you. And I’m …”
“You?”
I nod again and step back as he prowls closer. “Yes, I’m me. You like jumping off boats and I don’t know, parasailing—”
“You enjoyed all of those things, too.”
“Yes, but not every day. You run into fires and save lives. I was watching the local news earlier.” I gesture to my newly mounted television screen, the cable to which was set up earlier that evening. “I saw you carrying that little girl across the street from the school. It got me thinking that perhaps you and I just aren’t compatible. Maybe outside of a few great days in a foreign country we don’t have anything in common. And it’d be terrible to find that out and then we’re still living across from one another. Then I’d have to see you with—” I pause, breaking off before I admit to being hurt at seeing him date other women.
I shake my head. “No, it’s way too complicated now. Mexico was easy. We didn’t have to think about anything. Here, it’s different.”
