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Ryan considered this. “You’re right. Six-pack abs—they are rampant in the gay community,” he deadpanned.
Just then, the neighbor’s light flickered on. Chloe backed away from her window. “Uh...gotta go, okay? I’ll call you later.”
“Just remember what I said. Don’t be a hermit!”
“Love you!” she called, and then clicked off. She told herself she shouldn’t spy on her neighbor, and besides, it was probably one of his assistants anyway. But as she hovered near the curtains, she watched Jackson enter the third floor from the open stairway at the back of the living room. He immediately tugged off his shirt.
Oh, my. That was a view she could get used to: well-toned pecs, rippled abs, broad, muscled shoulders. She wondered again what he did for a living. Model? Action hero? Jackson could be either. He disappeared into the far right room, his bedroom, as she’d watched his home-decor minions set up his bed, and carry in armful after armful of expensive suits. She didn’t see a kitchen, so it had to be on one of the two floors below. She couldn’t imagine what, exactly, he was doing with all that space. For all she knew, the first floor could be an indoor basketball court. Or filled with trampolines. She had no idea how the über-rich lived.
Maybe he was just going to bed, she thought, and then went back to her burrito. She took a bite that was still part frozen. How was one end on fire and the other an ice cube? Ugh. She put it down, suddenly not feeling like eating it. She clicked off the overhead kitchen light, the oven light the only thing illuminating her small kitchen. She glanced up and saw Jackson emerging from his bedroom wearing only mesh shorts, slung low on his hips, and still no shirt. He sank down on his plush leather couch and put his feet up. His phone must’ve sounded because he picked it up and pressed it to his ear. Then, a second later, he tapped the screen. He laid back on the couch, his eyes on the staircase. Suddenly, a woman clad only in the shortest silk jumper Chloe had ever seen appeared on the stairwell in strappy stiletto heels and too much makeup, her auburn bob cut at chin length. She was gorgeous. She sauntered over to the couch, a pouty expression on her face, and he sat there, watching her.
Was that his girlfriend? She felt a hardened pit at the center of her stomach.
But she didn’t greet him like a girlfriend. They didn’t hug or kiss. Instead, she began to slip out of her little shorts romper, the silk sleeves fluttering downward, revealing the fact that she wore no bra. She was all business, this one. No warm fuzzies. He watched the show appreciatively as she kicked out of the one-piece, now wearing only stilettos, her bare, toned body in front of him.
Well, he’s definitely not gay.
Chloe knew she needed to stop watching. But she couldn’t. She clutched at the curtain, half-hidden, mesmerized by the action unfolding in front of her. It was a billion times more interesting than her abandoned burrito. Her bad-boy neighbor stood then, and the woman knelt in front of him. She jerked down his shorts as he grabbed a handful of her hair and gave it a playful tug.
I can’t watch this, her mind screamed, and yet she couldn’t look away. The woman freed him, and Chloe nearly gasped...he was bigger than Kevin. Much bigger. She didn’t even know they came that big, even while the woman worked at it with both hands, and he stiffened beneath her touch. He watched her intently as she took part of him in her mouth, the tip. God, did they not know the windows were wide-open? Did they not know she could see...everything?
This was taking the invisible fourth floor to an entirely different level.
Yet part of her realized neither one of them cared. They were intent on sex, only on the sex. After a minute, he pulled her to her feet and whirled her around, completely in command as he bent her across the arm of his couch. Jackson reached his fingers down to her inner thigh, stroking her, then disappearing inside her. She moaned, throwing her head back. Then he had a condom package in his mouth and ripped it open, rolling the latex down his now-ready self. Then he entered her: strong, possessive, decisive.
I shouldn’t watch this. Yet she couldn’t turn away, either.
Chloe felt her whole body run hot. For a second, she imagined herself there, over that couch, him taking her from behind like an animal, him filling her up. She watched his abs tighten as he worked himself in and out, the woman’s face showing joy and want, as she took the whole thick length of him again and again. Chloe watched, transfixed, unable to turn away. She’d never had a man that big before. What would that feel like? The strange woman in his living room gripped the sofa cushions, her knuckles white as she seemed to cry out. Was she climaxing? Her whole body vibrated...and Chloe shivered. God, she felt a stab of jealousy. She wanted to climax just like that, feeling Jackson deep inside her.
Instantly, her body came alive, her belly feeling warm and tingling, her pajama shorts suddenly sticky between her legs. What am I doing? I’m a Peeping Tom. It’s wrong... And yet all she wanted to do was slip her hands down the waistband of her own shorts, to touch herself. She could feel a beat of a pulse between her legs, feel the want there, the need.
Wasn’t this illegal? Snooping in people’s windows?
I need to turn away. Close my blinds. But she kept watching, mesmerized and focusing on his magnificent body, his strong hands holding her hips, as he explored her deepest places. Her nipples stood at attention, her small, firm breasts bouncing with his every move. She rocked against him, too, grinding upward, arching her back, enjoying every inch of him.
Chloe bit her lip, feeling her nipples strain against her own shirt, and suddenly her body was overcome by want, like a fever. She wanted to be on the other side of that glass window. She wanted to feel the man’s hands on her. Those thoughts consumed her as she stood half-hidden by her curtain.
She was almost tempted to touch herself then, scratch the itch building deep within her. But no. That would be wrong. Wouldn’t it?
Chloe watched him, his eyes on the woman’s body, his face serious. Then, as if he could sense her watching, he glanced up, and for a heart-stopping second, he saw her.
She froze. Ice-cold fear ran down her spine. He saw her! She’d been caught spying!
Yet she couldn’t break his gaze, his blue-eyed stare. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was caught.
He’s going to be mad. He could even call the police...
Then, the smallest hint of a smile quirked his lip. He almost looked...amused. He kept eye contact with her and he thrust even deeper into his prize.
Her mouth dropped open. His gaze felt like a tractor beam, holding her in place. He gave her the littlest of nods. Go on, his eyes seemed to dare her, watch me. The woman before him had her eyes closed, obviously enjoying the feel of him inside her, but suddenly it didn’t even matter he was having sex with another woman. As Jackson watched Chloe, it felt like the two of them were the only people in the world. It felt strangely intimate, somehow. Chloe was watching the man at his most vulnerable, and Jackson was letting her.
Something about that was so wrong...so naughty...yet she couldn’t break his gaze, couldn’t turn from the window. How could he watch her when he was inside someone else? And yet, he seemed to...want her to watch.
Could that be?
And was it her imagination or was he turned on by it? Yes, she realized. He was. Excited by her. By her watching. She felt strangely powerful then. She wasn’t a third wheel; she was affecting what she saw.
He leaned over, nuzzling the woman’s neck and cupping her firm breast, tweaking the woman’s pink nipple, but his eyes never left hers all the while, as if somehow, he was offering to do this to her. Heat burned in her belly.
Yes. Just like that. Touch her.
Touch me.
Instinctively, Chloe’s hand covered her own breast as she felt her desire grow. The weight of her own hand against her chest felt like his then. She imagined what it would feel like for him to nuzzle her neck, even as he pushed ever deeper inside her.
Jackson straightened again, grabbing the woman’s hips, moving her slightly so she could see him from the side, see the very thick length of him move in...and out. God, he was huge, so hard for her. How did she even take that much?
Yes, Jackson. Just like that, she thought. That’s how I’d want it.
Fast.
Hard.
Deep.
He picked up his pace, as if he could hear her own thoughts. He was all animal, all want. Slickness ran between her legs as she gawked, unable—and unwilling—to look away. All the while, he stared up at her, sharp blue eyes never leaving her face.
She wanted to see him come, wanted to see him pour himself into this woman, because that was what she’d want. All of him. All that he could give her.
Then, after several furious thrusts, he came: his face overcome with the pleasure of pure relief. Jackson briefly closed his eyes as he’d found his release. She knew then she’d helped him. She’d excited him, pushed him over the edge. She felt the thudding pulse between her own legs and knew he’d had the same effect on her. Her body had come alive with need and want, as both flooded the blood in her veins, pumped by her fast-beating heart. What she’d give at that moment to be able to feel him inside her. God, she wanted him.
Then the woman before him opened her eyes, and the spell was broken. Suddenly, the intimate little bubble she’d occupied with Jackson was burst. Chloe ducked behind her curtains, fearful the woman would see. She pressed her back against the brick wall, heart pounding in her ears.
What had just happened?
It was wrong what had just happened. So very wrong. How would she feel if someone had watched her and her...boyfriend? Yet she’d never been that brazen. She would’ve never done it with the blinds up like that. She remembered the confident smirk of the woman as she’d stepped out of her jumper. Chloe doubted the woman would even care if she’d been seen. Hell, she was the one who had sex in front of the windows at night, with the blinds up.
She clicked off her foyer light, her own apartment now dark. She felt the cloak of darkness like a cover of protection. Could she ever even look at Jackson again? She frantically shut her own curtains.
No. It had been wrong. She shouldn’t have watched. Yet she liked it. She liked it even more when he’d caught her watching. When he’d shown her how much he’d enjoyed it. Those stark blue eyes watching her, excited by her watching... She’d never forget the look on his face when he’d come.
Heat built between her legs as she slipped her hand down the waistband of her shorts. She found herself so very wet, so very wanting. She touched her most delicate center and shivered, knowing this was what she’d badly wanted to do while she watched Jackson, and now she could hold back no longer. She thought about his hands, his eyes, how he’d feel inside her, filling her...and then, before she knew it, Chloe came in a heated rush, so fast, so hard, a quick explosion of need.
God, she’d never done that before: made herself come in just a matter of seconds. But she knew why this time had been different. It had been Jackson. All Jackson.
What would he do if he knew she’d...just done this? For him?
The thought danced in her mind. So wrong. Yet right.
She felt like she’d been there with him. And...her. Her heart settled a bit, her breathing slowed, and she wondered if her neighbor had gotten dressed. If he and that woman were cuddling, kissing now. The thought made her feel a flare of jealousy. Why? I’m not his girlfriend. I’m just the neighbor who flashed him...and watched him come. How she wished she could see that look of pure pleasure on his face again, but this time, with him deep, deep inside her.
She slumped down at her kitchen table and stared at her drawn curtains. Should she take another peek? Would she dare? No. She fought herself. I’ve invaded the man’s privacy enough. I’ve broken enough laws.
What if Jackson called the police?
She shook her head. No. She remembered the pleasure on his face as he glanced up and saw her. No. He liked it. He liked it when she watched.
But who was that woman? Girlfriend? Escort? She wasn’t sure which would be worse. She didn’t like the idea of him having a girlfriend, an intimate, loving relationship, but she also didn’t like the idea of him paying for sex, either. She heard a door slam in the alley and curiosity got the better of her. She jostled the curtain a centimeter and peered down. The woman he’d just had sex with slipped into an Uber waiting in the alley.
Definitely not a girlfriend, she thought. Then...what?
Chloe thought about the man in his big three-story building all by himself, sated now, maybe even still naked. Maybe rinsing off in the shower. For a split second, a crazy thought ran through her head...what if I went over? Rang his doorbell?
Instantly, she dismissed the thought. Really? She was going to...what? Tell him she was sorry for spying? Or ask him to do exactly what he’d just done to that woman to her?
Her inner thighs tingled at the thought. Heat rose in her abdomen again. She’d only just taken care of that. Hadn’t she? Yet, was she wanting this again? So soon? Just the thought of seeing Jackson made her wet.
No. He’d think she was crazy. Wouldn’t he?
After she watched the Uber drive away, she glanced back up at the new neighbor’s windows. She didn’t see him, and figured he’d moved to his room, though his blinds were still wide-open. Maybe he’d forget about the whole thing. Maybe he’d pretend it never happened. Maybe that was what she should do as well.
Then she saw him return with a bar of white soap in his hand and a small bowl of water. What was he...? She hid once more as he came to the windows. The idea of him seeing her spying more made her face flame with embarrassment. She waited for a few minutes, breathing hard.
Go to bed, Chloe, she told herself. What are you even doing?
She waited a few more moments that felt like hours. Should she look? Once more? What was he doing with that bar of soap?
Chloe peeked around the curtain, leaving just enough space for one eye. The living room was now empty. No sign of Jackson.
But he’d used the soap to write a message on his window. It was big enough for her to read.
Next time, want to do more than watch?
CHAPTER FOUR (#u551b5734-f09d-53b4-9315-1fa34232ffac)
CHLOE COULD BARELY sleep as she thought about what that message might mean. Did he want her to join him? Or join him and her? A threesome? Chloe thought about the woman’s amazing body and instantly shelved that thought. No way could she get naked in the same room as that runway model. She wasn’t about to let her muffin top compare to the skin-and-bones double-zero. Chloe had curves, and that meant that sometimes they jiggled when they weren’t supposed to. Maybe Jackson hadn’t really invited her over for sex. Maybe he was just calling her out on her snooping? She couldn’t figure it out, no matter how hard she thought about it.
Part of her was embarrassed—after all, she’d watched her neighbor have sex and hadn’t turned away. Granted, they’d left the windows open, but still. It violated basic rules of decency, and Chloe knew it, yet she couldn’t help but feel even more intrigued by Jackson now that she knew he was so...endowed. Part of her wanted to tell him she did want to do more than watch. Ugh. Did that make her a raging slut? Probably. Or was she just looking after her own needs? Just look at the man! Gorgeous. Rich. Probably never intimidated in any locker room he ever entered. Chloe felt her face flush once more, the image of him naked flitting through her mind. Her running shoes pounded the pavement taking her east to the running trail on Lake Michigan.
After crossing a few intersections, she took the underground pedestrian tunnel to the lakefront and then wound her way north on the running trail, the sun rising above the pristine blue water, looking expansive across the horizon, so large it seemed impossible that it was fresh water and not the salty sea. The waves broke on the sandy beach as she ran, her heart thudding. The air got warmer while the sun rose in the sky and sweat broke out across her lower back. Just a few more feet, she thought to herself, and then she turned around, heading back to her apartment. This morning she’d shower. She’d put on something cute. Maybe even put on makeup.
Trying to impress Jackson? Hoping he gets a glimpse of you? Are you going to tell him he made you touch yourself last night?
Part of her wondered if he’d like to know.
She bit her lip. She’d taken the flirting to a new level when she’d watched him last night. She’d crossed a line. And that was probably his girlfriend. She couldn’t get involved with a man who was so clearly involved and deeply intimate with someone else. She remembered just how deeply as she thought of his long, hard thrusts.
Though the woman hadn’t stayed the night. That still didn’t mean anything. There could be a million reasons for that. She was coveting her sexy neighbor, but he was in a relationship, and Chloe wasn’t going to cross that line.
Was she? She bit her lip.
She ran back to her apartment, punching in the code to her place and trotting up the stairs and swiping the sweat off her forehead. She tried to catch her breath, convinced that the best thing to do was just ignore the message. Wasn’t that the right thing? Yet, as she eyed the message—still in his window that morning—she felt a little shiver run down the back of her knees.
Next time, want to do more than watch?
Hell, yes, she thought to herself. She did. She wanted to do so much more than watch. Yet what was she thinking? Was she seriously going to jump into bed with her neighbor? What happened if she did and...the sex was terrible? Or worse, he broke things off? How would she feel living next door to an ex?
All rational thought told her that fooling around with her neighbor was a bad idea.
The cold water from the shower flushed a little of her desire down the drain, but her brain still buzzed with Jackson’s invitation. She wanted to ask him a million questions, she needed to know exactly what he was offering.
She remembered the dark tattoos on his shoulder. Wings of some kind. She wanted to see them up close. To touch them. Read the inscription, if there was one. Ask him why he got them.
But he lives next door. This could be a disaster.
She thought about Ryan. He’d be telling her to go for it, no doubt. She almost imagined his hearty congratulations if she told him she’d finally found a rebound from Kevin. Hadn’t Ryan just told her she needed to put Kevin behind her...and be more social?
Still, was she really going to do this?
Chloe hesitated. She still hadn’t decided what to do about his message. Ignore it? Reply?
She glanced out her window, seeing the words there as clear as day, his third floor dark. Was he still sleeping? Had he left for work while she was out running?
She suddenly imagined herself writing a message on her window and then his blinds popping up, and him catching her in the act. The idea was mortifying. She wasn’t even sure she could bear to look him in the eye after last night.
Chloe decided to ignore the message and booted up her computer. Then, after answering a few emails, she glanced once more at her neighbor’s darkened windows. He might be at work. She might be able to send him a message. But what?
No. That was crazy. Why would she write him a message? Just let it go, Chloe, she told herself. Just pretend none of it ever happened.
Except that she couldn’t. Even as she tried to focus on work, her attention kept wandering back to Jackson’s darkened windows, to the message he left for her there. She couldn’t forget his amazingly chiseled body, his blue eyes watching her.
She didn’t have a bar of soap to write on her window, so opted for a pad of sticky notes. Her window was large, and she began laying out her message, using the notes to form letters. Then she stopped and ripped them all down. She glanced at Jackson’s darkened windows. She was crazy for replying to this, wasn’t she? She had to be crazy.
She glanced at the pink sticky notes in her hand. Maybe she was crazy. She started again before she lost her nerve.
Jackson sat at his desk in his office at Drake Properties, flipping a pen around his fingers, thinking about the dream he’d had the night before. He’d dreamed of Chloe, standing on the other side of a full glass window, wearing nothing but cherry-red heels. He hadn’t been able to pay attention to even a single email this morning, as he wondered what Chloe had done when she saw his message that morning.
He knew he’d taken a risk putting the message on his window, but a man like him didn’t build an empire without taking risks. He had seen the want on her face, knew that if he pushed hard—but not too hard—she might just wind up in his bed. How he wanted to know what she was like. Did she just like to watch? Or would she perform, too?
What was she doing right then? He hoped crafting a response. The thought made him smile. He’d never been so aroused by a woman’s eyes before. By her dark, sensual eyes. She’d watched him and Annaliese boldly, almost without fear. He couldn’t wait to see what she’d be like in person, when there wasn’t a window between them. He wanted to explore her darkest places.
“Mr. Drake? Call on line one. A Miss Smith?” his assistant asked through the intercom on his desk.
Jackson felt snapped back into reality. That was Laurie, his ex, on the line.
“Send her to voice mail, please,” Jackson called to the intercom.
Just then, a new message popped up on his phone. From Laurie.
