I swear to God, I hear a giggle.
This is psychological warfare, and it’s working. I can’t go down there like this. I’m still hard and I’m angry, and the two are becoming increasingly difficult to separate. I pace the hallway like a caged animal. This woman is going to be the end of me.
I give it two minutes. Two minutes to settle, that’s all I need. When I’m reasonably sure I can go down there without pitching a tent in my sweats, I swing the door open.
Think unsexy things. Don’t think about red hair, full lips, and loud moans.
Think…Ah, fuck it. I can’t even think straight.
When I reach her door, I take a second to press my forehead to the cool wood.
You’re a grown man, Lawson. Regulate yourself.
I raise my fist and knock hard enough to shake the frame.
Less than a minute later, the door swings open, and I immediately forget every clinical thought I’ve ever had.
She’s flushed. Her hair is messy and wild around her face, and she’s wrapped in a short satin robe that’sdoing absolutely nothing to hide the nightdress beneath it. She blinks up at me and smiles.
“Hey, Doc. Everything okay?”
I try for a coherent sentence, but my brain has flatlined. The first thing out of my mouth is: “You’re vibrating.”
Her lips twitch. “Oh.” She fakes wide-eyed innocence. “You could hear that?”
Her eyes move from my face to my chest. Lower. And lower. Until they land exactly where I didn’t need them to. Her eyebrows lift. “Youcouldhear that.”
Jesus Christ.
I take a slow, measured breath. I need to stay calm.
“If you could just vibrate a little quieter,” I say, my voice tight and strained. “That’d be great.”
She shrugs. “Can’t.”
My jaw tenses. “Why not?”
“Same reason you don’t stop running. You run when you’re stressed. I vibrate.”
I look at her—really look at her—because she’s glowing, and it’s impossible to turn away. She did this on purpose. She planned this because she knows I hear every damn thing through my floorboards.
This fucking woman.
I drag a hand through my hair. “You knew I could hear you,” I say, my voice dropping.
“I gathered. You did shout through the floor.”
I step back half a pace because being this close to her right now is a bad idea. Her smile shifts into something less playful. I feel like a mouse in a trap, just waiting for her to pounce. My gaze darts to her tongue as she licks her lips.
“Is that why you’re down here?” she asks. “Concerned neighborly welfare check?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I should leave. That’s the smart call. Instead, I stay. “Because you knew I could hear you.”
Her head tilts. “Did I?”
