So I turn and watch her run down the street.
Her ponytail swings with each step, her long legs moving in an easy, steady rhythm. And her ass… Hell, that view is lethal in those shorts. I grit my teeth, hating how badly I want to chase after her, grab her and pull her against me, consequences be damned.
As if able to sense my stare, she glances over her shoulder, her eyes locking on mine for what feels like an eternity.
Then she looks forward once more, continuing down the street and disappearing around the corner.
By the time she’s out of sight, my entire body is tight with frustration. I run the last block like I’m being chased, sprinting up the porch and into the townhouse. Kicking off my shoes, I head straight into the en-suite bathroom.
I turn on the shower and step under the scalding water, desperately trying to erase Claire from my mind.
But it’s impossible to erase her… Especially the sight of her in those tiny shorts. The heat in her eyes. The way she bit her bottom lip like she did during our one night.
This is the last thing I should be doing, but I need to do something to release some of this pent-up frustration. With one hand braced against the wall, I wrap my other hand around my erection, moaning Claire’s name as I work myself to an orgasm, replaying the memory of her body writhing against mine.
I have a feeling I’ll be doing this a lot over the next few weeks.
Especially if I keep running into her like this.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CLAIRE
I can’t shakethe memory of Declan’s hand on my hip. The subtle stroke of his thumb against my skin. The chill that consumed me the second he let go.
This is exactly why I went for a run this morning. To stop thinking about him. Not crash straight into him like some rom-com heroine with a head full of fantasy and poor coordination.
I push myself to run faster, welcoming the pain as a distraction. But it’s no use. My body still hums, lit like a live wire, every nerve ending buzzing from that single point of contact. I can still feel the heat of him. Can still smell the faint spice of his body wash mixed with the cool, early morning air.
I’d tossed and turned most of the night, consumed with the idea of Declan being my neighbor. I’d somehow managed to convince myself it wouldn’t be a big deal. I barely saw Finn when he lived here. With my busy schedule this time of year, I figured Declan and I would hardly cross paths.
Or maybe Ihopedwe’d hardly cross paths.
It’s just my luck that, within hours of learning he’s my neighbor, I run into him.
Literally.
Maybe I should talk to him. Get his schedule so we can avoid each other. But that’s ridiculous. We’re adults. We only spent one night together. One night out of the thousands I’ve been alive.
Yet it’s the one night I can’t stop thinking about. The one night that feels branded into my soul. Because for once, I felt like I could be completely free with someone. Someone who wouldn’t judge me for my desires. Someone who was eager to give me everything I asked for without hesitation.
Maybe that’s the truth of the matter. Maybe it’s not necessarily Declan I crave. Maybe I just crave the way he made me feel. Maybe I just need to find someone else who can make me feel the same way. Who I can be free with.
I round the corner onto my street, my lungs burning and my thighs aching. The townhouse comes into view, and a ridiculous wave of nerves tightens in my chest. I slow my pace, glancing at the unit beside mine, feeling like I’m being watched. I hold my breath as I turn onto the walkway leading up to my place, half-expecting the door to Declan’s townhouse to swing open.
It doesn’t.
Relief floods through me, and I sprint up my porch steps, fumbling to get the key code correct before barging inside like I’m being chased.
Only then do I let myself breathe.
I yank out my earbuds and pause my audiobook. Not that I heard any of it. I ran nearly five miles and can’t remember a single thing that happened. All I could think about washim.
The grip of his hand on my hips. The way he steadied me. And worse, the way my mind betrayed me by instantly recalling the last time his hands were on my hips, holding me in place as he drove into me like he couldn’t get deep enough.
I try to shove the memory down, bury it under thoughts of work deadlines, social media captions, and the dozens of things Ineed to do today. But my body isn’t listening. It’s still humming, still aching, still betraying me with every reminder of how alive I felt for those few fleeting seconds.
I wander into the kitchen to find Dylan in the middle of throwing a bunch of fruit into a blender.
