Chapter 10
I’m sitting on my bed, a towel wrapping my wet hair. The events of the evening replay in my mind as I smooth coconut-lavender balm onto my legs. I try to not feel the electricity sputtering in my stomach every time I think about the silvery blue of Keeland’s eyes…or the smirk he wears on his full lips…or the thickness of his muscular arms (god, I love those arms)…or the tattoos covering his skin. I try to get him out of my mind but thoughts of him just won’t quit. Finally, I decide to stop trying and just let my fantasies run free. Yes, I still hate him but a little, innocent daydreaming never hurt anybody.
I’m hopelessly lost in my lusty imaginings when, out of the corner of my eye, I notice the light flick on in the bedroom across the way. Keeland strolls into the room, eyes fixed to the screen of his phone.
I nearly break my neck as I drop the tub of skin balm and leap across the bed to close my blinds. Keeland Masters doesn’t deserve the honor of seeing me in my ultra-cute, pink satin negligee.
Now, I’m peeping through my blinds at him. Like a creeper. But dammit, his stomach is a washboard. Plain and simple. And the swirls of ink adorning his pecs and his arms are so damn sexy.
He sets down his phone on the dresser and leans into the mirror. He runs a palm along his scruffy jaw before letting his fingers glide down his chest to the towel that is secured around his waist.
And then, he grins.
He literally looks at his perfect, perfect body in the mirror and grins.
What a conceited jerk!
He picks up his phone and he snaps a selfie. He flexes his free arm so that the muscles bulge and snaps again and again and again.
Ugh — conceited, I tell you!
I should look away. I’m totally gonna look away. In a few seconds.
He takes a few more pictures and then pauses, his fingers scrolling and tapping across the face of his phone.
He’s sexting somebody!
I feel my stomach twist up. I’m sure that it’s some floozy he met at Flynn and Murray’s tonight. Maybe that waitress who kept staring at him and biting her lip. Ugh! They’re perfect for each other, equally superficial and vapid.
His attention goes back to his reflection and he snaps a few more shots before doing the unthinkable…He unwraps his towel, aims the camera at his groin and snaps away.
My blood is absolutely boiling as he taps out another text message. I’m so irate that I’m only vaguely aware of my own cellphone beeping away on the bed next to me.
I absentmindedly reach for it and swipe to unlock it before glancing down at the screen. Text message from an unknown number.
Unknown number: We’re contacting you from the Reyfield Entertainment Network to ensure that you’re enjoying tonight’s programming. Please press 1 to say ‘yes’ or 2 to say ‘no’.
Confused, I toss my phone aside and bring my gaze back to Keeland. Within seconds, my phone beeps again.
Unknown number: Please take a moment to provide us with valuable feedback that we will use to improve your viewing experience.
The messages keep coming in rapid succession. I ignore them, my attention riveted to my dirty, salacious, asshole neighbor who is sexting his heart out. But after a while, the constant pinging of my phone receiving a continuous stream of text messages is starting to grate on my nerves.
I pick up the phone. My fingers stomp across the keyboard like angry little soldiers with a message to deliver: UNSUBSCRIBE ME FROM YOUR SERVICE. NOW!!!
That’s when Keeland erupts into laughter, bending over to clutch his stomach.
Unknown number: As you wish. But first, here’s a token of our appreciation for your many years of loyal viewership.
A picture fills my screen. A bare chest covered in ink. A fluffy pink towel circling a narrow waist. A stubbly jaw. Full lips pulled into a narcissistic smirk. Pale blue eyes glinting playfully.
Keeland!
I drop the phone like it’s on fire.
It was him all along? I peer out through the blinds again.
And he waves at me! That asshole is still choking on laughter and waving at me!
It’s only then that I realize that the lights are on in my room. Of course he can see me peeping. The lights are on!
Facepalm.
I jump away from the blinds as quickly as I can, nearly tripping over my own humiliation. My bed sheets tangle around my legs as I stumble over to the switch on the wall and flip the lights off.
I collapse onto the bed, pulling a mountain of pillows over my head. Maybe if I yank enough cushions over my face, I’ll suffocate and die a painless death.
Either way, it’s decided. I’m staying in this bed until I die.