Chapter Five
After class, I rushed through my routine and had my hair blown out into sexy waves and my makeup done in a matter of thirty minutes. Another plus to Josh was that he didn’t do fancy. He enjoyed ordinary things, but with some guaranteed company.
I never had to load on the makeup or wear more than a pair of trendy jeans and a cute shirt with him. He said he liked my hair down and thought women were prettiest when they looked like they weren’t wearing any makeup at all. I couldn’t do zero makeup, but I made it look like I could.
We had dinner at a trendy sports bar and played some games in the game room afterward. Josh was a quiet guy around outsiders, but once in a while, he’d find the courage to cradle my hips at a pinball machine. He was harmless, so I let him. I liked Josh, and one day I hoped he found his Mrs. Right and fell in love.
He needed confidence and I wanted to give it to him. So when he cupped my hips I leaned in just enough to let him know it was harmless flirting and something a date would like. He was timid enough that I didn’t fear he’d ask for more.
After our date, he drove me home and watched me walk to the door. It was one of my easier nights. Maybe that was why I kept him penciled in even when I could be making a bigger profit with a more affluent client.
I let myself into my apartment and kicked off my shoes. Not two seconds after I walked through the door there was a knock. A partial chill chased over my arms as I worried Josh might have gotten the wrong impression and found the nerve to finally ask for more. Sighing, I walked to the door and opened it. Not Josh, but Noah, holding my Cosmo magazine in his hand.
“The mailman accidentally put this in my mailbox.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire…
My brows slowly lifted. “Is that so?”
He smiled, and I bet that smile got him everything his little heart desired, which was probably why he thought it was okay to run around stealing people’s mail.
“The post office is always screwing up.”
Now, he was blaming the post office? I was outraged on behalf of mail carriers everywhere.
“Well, thanks.” I took my magazine and his gaze lifted over my shoulder.
I turned, wondering what he saw, trying to see my home for the first time with fresh eyes. Sometimes it still got me in the chest when I stepped back and appraised how far I’d come. But now was not the time to get nostalgic and emotional.
When he made no move to go back to his door, I gave a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks for returning it.” I’ll be sure to collect my mail more promptly in the future.
“Do you have plans Friday night?”
I frowned, wondering why he wanted to know. “Um…” Did I have plans? No, not yet. “I’d have to check my schedule.”
“I’m having a party. Just a small get together with a few work friends.”
His gaze drifted over my shoulder again and I did a double take. What was he looking for?
His attention snapped back to me. “Sorry, am I interrupting? Do you have company?”
Well, wasn’t he nosy? I angled the door for privacy, bracing my body between him and the opening. “I don’t think I have plans.”
His eyes flashed to mine, and this time I didn’t buckle under the intensity of his stare. “Everyone’s coming over around eight. Just drinks and some hors d’oeuvres. Nothing fancy.”
Where I came from, anything with a dollar store tablecloth and chips was fancy, but he wouldn’t know that. “If I’m free I’ll stop by.”
I was going to stop by. It was a simple case of playing doctor. He saw my apartment now I needed to see his. Tit for tat. I might even steal something while I was there to even the score.
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
“See you then.”
As I closed the door I smiled, but quickly rolled my eyes. “You know better, Avery. Don’t waste your time.”
The rest of the week passed in a blur of dates and studying. Friday morning I received a text from a sporadic client who paid well but got under my skin. He wanted to meet downtown for a few drinks after work. I hesitated, curious to see Noah’s apartment and meet his friends, but then common sense kicked in and I accepted the date.
It was good money and next semester’s tuition would be due soon. I needed to cover all my bases so I could get my books and replace the money I’d sent my mother.
The polite thing would have been to tell Noah I wasn’t going to make it to his party, but he’d gone and stolen my mail, so I didn’t think normal rules of social etiquette applied.
Although I didn’t particularly care for Friday night’s client, my appearance was my moneymaker, so I put the same care into my outfit that I would with any date. My navy blue dress fit like a glove, accentuating all the right curves. And my hair was having one of those amazing days where it settled into perfect flowing waves.
My date was obnoxious, rattling on about himself and all the ways he saved the day at work this week. I knew his sort well, type-A personality, little dick, terrible in bed because they couldn’t stop blowing themselves long enough to take care of the girl. My fake smile was cemented on my face for a solid three hours before my cheeks went numb.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “You know what, Richard, I suddenly don’t feel so good. I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you might be able to drive me home?”
It was the easiest excuse because being a germaphobe was one of the reasons Richard was single. He arched back as far as his stool would allow.
“Is it your stomach or chest? Maybe you should take a cab?”
Was he fucking kidding? “It’s just a headache.”
His shoulders sagged. “Oh. Sure. I’ll have the valet grab my car.”
The ride home passed in a tribute to himself and by the time I was out of the car I considered the night worth every penny I’d earned, regardless of cutting it short. When the elevator opened to my floor, bass pounded through the walls and muffled voices carried. My steps slowed as I eyed Noah’s door, open a crack.
No. I should just go to bed.
Sliding my key into the lock, I pressed into my dark, silent apartment and looked back over my shoulder at my neighbor’s apartment. “Damn it.”
I jerked the door shut and relocked the deadbolt. Slipping my key into my clutch, I adjusted my dress and drew back my shoulders. My fingers tapped lightly on the door and it eased open.
Couples gathered in every corner and perched on every free surface of furniture. This was just a few friends from work? Wow, his job was certainly different than mine.
Cheerful conversations and laughter emphasized the easy mood of the living room. Noah was nowhere in sight. I scanned the crowd and made eye contact with a few men dressed in high-end suits and wearing an edge of class. No one was in jeans and the appetizers Noah mentioned consisted of an omelet station in his den and a crepe station by the dining room. What kind of party was this?
“Hi. I’m Steve. Are you a friend of Noah’s?” Steve looked to be in his late twenties.
“I’m his neighbor.”
“Oh. Can I get you a drink? I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s—”
“Avery. Johansson.” Noah’s voice stole my attention and a few others’. “Didn’t your mother teach you it was bad manners to arrive late to a party and not let the host know?”
Was he drunk? My frown only covered the top half of my face as I smirked.
He sauntered clumsily across the room and pressed an empty glass into Steve’s chest, then draped a heavy arm over my shoulder, depositing enough of his weight to make my legs stiffen.
“You’re late, Ms. Johansson.” His breath was warm and alcohol scented as it fanned over my cheek. An inappropriate chill raced down my spine.
I carefully extricated my body out from under his arm. “Sorry. I had an appointment.”
His eyes narrowed, one more than the other as if he was trying to see through a monocle lens that wasn’t there. “An appointment or a date?”
Wouldn’t you like to know?
I took his glass from Steve and sniffed it. “Mmm. A honey bourbon man. Steve, I’ll take that drink now. Why don’t you show me where the bar is?”
Noah frowned as I walked away with his friend.
Steve was a nice guy. Interesting and full of trivial knowledge. We fell into a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill with a few other guests while I finished my brown derby cocktail.
By the time I was at the bottom of my glass I decided it was time to leave. Three martinis with Richard and one brown derby put me over my limit. Plus, my feet were killing me in these heels.
I excused myself to find the kitchen and put my glass in the sink. Noah’s apartment was a mirror image of mine, so it didn’t take long. However, his kitchen was prettier and that pissed me off.
Distracted by the cathedral moldings and glazed cabinetry, I didn’t hear anyone come in behind me.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Slowing my breathing, I drew back my shoulders and turned. “Your kitchen’s nicer than mine.”
“Your bedroom’s bigger.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “I looked at both apartments before I signed the lease. Turns out I love to cook as much as I love to fuck, but I need more help in the kitchen, so I figured I should take the apartment with the best space to improve my … skills.”
“Charming.”
His grin held as he rounded the granite island. He glanced into the sink and arched a brow at the empty glass. “Leaving so soon?”
“It’s late. I appreciate the invite but—”
“Why were you late?”
“I… I told you. I had an appointment.”
“You could’ve gotten out of it.”
I frowned. “How would you know?”
“Because I don’t think it was business.” He glanced down at my dress. “I think it was personal.”
Ahh. “You know, I think I hear my phone ringing.”
I turned and he caught my arm, tugging me back with enough force that my hands braced against his chest, my head tipping back to look into his eyes.
“Have dinner with me, Avery Johansson.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re neighbors and we both like living here and I don’t want it to get weird.”
“Maybe it’ll get good weird.”
“It won’t.”
He leaned his long body into the counter, his thumb sliding slowly over my bare arm where he held me as we faced off. “Come on. One dinner. I’ll treat.”
I laughed. “I know you would, but my answer’s still no.”
“Afraid you’ll actually enjoy yourself?” His gentle grip glided to my wrist, reminding me that my hands still rested on his chest.
My frown deepened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I see you going out on dates, a different guy every other night. None of them are right for you. Why would you date someone so much older? You’re young, beautiful, and I bet you’re incredible in bed.”
I yanked my hands away from him but kept my position, his body pinned between the sink and mine. “Wouldn’t you like to know? It’s a shame you never will.”
“A thousand bucks says you’re wrong.”
I gave a humorless laugh. “Only a thousand?” That was no small bet.
He brazenly caught a piece of my hair between two fingers and gently tugged. “You’d like it. I’d make sure of that. First, it would be gentle, and then it would get frantic. I’d make you wait, for your own good, letting the torture build into an intense burn until you begged, Please, Noah, please…” His voice took on a falsetto tone as he did an impression of a woman who sounded nothing like me.
I rolled my eyes. If anyone begged it’d be him.
He leaned closer as if imparting a dark secret. “By the time I’m inside of you, you’d be gasping out my name, and when I hold your arms behind your back and dig my teeth into your shoulder, pounding every hard inch of my cock into your hot little pussy, you’ll be wondering why you ever considered dating those losers when everything you wanted was right across the hall.”
What. A. Douchebag.
That wasn’t how it would go down—which it wouldn’t—but if it did, it would be Noah pleading. Eyeing him from head to toe, I eased closer, letting my assets brush against his front as I moved my mouth only a kiss away from his.
“Do you know what I like to do with men like you, Noah Wolfe?”
His lashes lowered as he stared at my mouth. “What?”
“I like to strip them down, unburden them, remove every touch of ego and leave them utterly bare. The things I could do to you… You wouldn’t be able to handle it. So let’s pretend you didn’t just share all those fantasies and it won’t be weird the next time I sense you watching me in the hall. Because no matter how much you wish you could fuck me, that’s not how I operate.”
I glanced around his hundred thousand dollar kitchen, still pissed it was nicer than mine. “This little game of cat and mouse we’ve been playing… I think you’ve got the roles mixed up. Poor, little Noah. You’re not the cat. I am. I eat men like you for breakfast.” Rising on my toes, I slowly dragged my tongue over the stubble of his jaw and bit his earlobe until he let out a guttural moan. “And I know you stole my fucking magazine.”
With a smile cocky enough to rival any arrogant, penis-toting prick at the party, I lifted my chin and sauntered out of the kitchen. And, yes, he watched me go.