Chapter 3

The days went by, and I didn’t see that gorgeous neighbor of mine. I looked out in the morning, snuck a peak around dinner, and even woke up in the middle of the night to see if I saw any movement over there.

Surely, his appearance could have been some sort of alcohol-induced psychosis, but my body could not accept that. If I closed my eyes, I could still remember what his skin felt like under my fingertips. I still felt the hard muscle of his chest and the warm flush of embarrassment that filled my body.

I had to get my mind off of him. Only a couple more weeks left before my big photography exhibit, and I still needed at least three more pieces to show.

Since Michael’s death, I had resigned myself to the recluse life of a photographer. My days, and sometimes my nights, were filled staring through the lens of my Canon EOS professional camera. It had been a gift from Michael and by far one of my most treasured belongings.

I’d subsidized my sex life with a house full of men after Michael had gone, but those men were carefully curated and not intrusive to the memory of my old boyfriend. Life in the working world couldn’t be as carefully curated so I’d found myself leaning on my photography and avoiding working with people as much as possible.

When not wrapped up in the world through my camera lens, I was painfully restoring every aspect of my grandparents’ old Victorian home. I hand stripped the wood trim and was about to start the process of staining all the pieces before putting them back up.

The night was clear and the moon full on this particular night, so I grabbed my camera and went for a walk. A lot of what people didn’t understand about photography was the amount of time an artist took to find just the right picture. It was a delicate balance between the light, objects, and my own skills.

I often spent hours and even days in search of the perfect lighting for one of my photos. I might find a good location but then spend days looking for the light in the morning or night that would make my vision come to life.

As I walked down an old dirt road just outside of town, I finally found just the right angle for the picture I wanted. The woods nearby skimmed the bottom of the brilliant moon, and every star in the galaxy was shining brightly in the sky. This was it; this was the light I’d been searching for.

I lay down and peered through my lens to find the perfect picture. My heart raced with excitement over what I had finally found. This was the joy of photography, the excitement of finally having my vision come to life.

So enveloped in my photographic process was I that I did not hear the pounding of footsteps until they were standing right over me. He startled me. Why on earth was anyone out running in the middle of the night?

“Are you alright?”

I heard his smooth, calm voice, and my body reacted with instant acknowledgment. It was him; it was the gorgeous neighbor from the other night. I snapped a couple pictures and slowly moved my camera away from my face.

“Yep, just taking some pictures,” I said looking up from the ground and trying to pretend like it was totally normal to be laying in the middle of the street taking photographs at night.

“I see that.”

His quietness was uncomfortable, and I sprang to my feet. In the moonlight, I saw the familiar shirtless figure that I had been searching for over the last several days. I had not imagined him at all, he was real.

“Where have you been?” I blurted out.

I couldn’t help myself. I’d been thinking about him since I first saw him. I’d been imagining so many delicious things with this guy. I could have taken him right then and there because my body wanted him more than I could have predicted, and I obviously didn’t have a filter on my thoughts when it came to this guy.

A smile broke through his cool expression. It was the first real emotion I had seen on his face.

“Oh, have you been looking for me?” he said as he took a step toward me.

His movement into my close proximity had by pulse racing; I was more nervous than I remembered being the night I met him. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I couldn’t seem to swallow. The power this man had over my thoughts was incredible. His sexual energy was intense and forced me to think about him and me naked. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop the thoughts from rushing through my mind.

“I came over to thank you for making sure I got home safely the other night.”

“You really shouldn’t drink and act like a fool; you could have been taken advantage of.”

My face flushed quickly, but this time, I felt a burn of anger. Who was he to tell me I acted like a fool? I was an adult; I could have a good time with my girlfriends. I was responsible and took a cab.

Instead of being a gentleman, this guy was quickly turning into someone that I wasn’t at all attracted to. Okay, so I was still physically attracted to him, but a guy who made me feel bad about anything I was doing, wasn’t someone I wanted in my life.

The whole reason Stanley, Kirk, and Sam had been a great transition for me was because they made me feel good. Not just in the sexual aspects, but those guys really cared about me and wanted me to know it. I couldn’t go back to being around a man who actually thought insulting me was okay.

“Oh, I’m a fool?”

The question left my mouth before I could stop myself. I didn’t know this guy at all, but he was awful rude to be saying such a thing to a woman he didn’t know either. What sort of man would even say something so rude?

“Yes. You let a complete stranger have a key to your house and open your door for you. I could have easily taken you into the house and had my way with you. It’s not safe for a woman to act like that.”

“I felt safe with you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t feel safe around you?” I smiled, trying to figure out if this guy was actually being rude or perhaps just horrible at small talk.

He was trying to pretend like he was a dangerous man; well, maybe he was in some other aspect of his life. But the way he looked at me, I could tell he wouldn’t harm a woman ever. He was a little tactless in his comment, but the longer he looked at me, I realized that he was saying this because he did indeed want to take me into my house and have his way with me.

“You shouldn’t feel safe around any man. They only have one thing on their mind.”

Before I could respond, he was there, right next to me. His arm wrapped around my waist, and I felt his hand on my back, pressing me into his sweaty body. I’d been thinking about his hands for days, and I wasn’t about to give up this opportunity.

Dazed, I just stood there, my camera in one hand and my other hand placed firmly on his chest. Oh, the delight of feeling his skin again. I could have stayed right there in that moment all night. His smell was sweat with a mix of cologne. His eyes weren’t dangerous at all and instead filled with desire.

I prepared myself to be kissed.

His lips were only mere inches away from mine, and I could feel myself subconsciously urging him to keep moving closer. I arched my back and moved slightly closer to him to allow this kiss to happen.

“What would that one thing be?” My breath was quiet and filled with desire.

I could feel my chest heaving up and down as I tried to tranquil myself. There was just something about this man that I couldn’t stay calm when near him. I surely couldn’t calm down now that his hand was wrapped around my waist.

“To taste you,” he said.

His deep brown eyes peered right into my soul. I wiggled a little in his arms, and he adjusted his grip. Then I felt it. Through his running shorts, I could feel the girth of his erection. He wanted me. The way he looked at me, it was like he needed to have me. A primal urge that could not be stopped by anything.

I smiled and pushed away firmly. This time he released me. I felt my power growing with his desire. This was exactly where I liked to be. I was in charge again. He wanted me so badly that I knew I could push away and still keep him hooked on what the two of us could have together.

“I should get going,” I said as I looked down at my camera.

Never in all my life had I had a man so overtly try to sleep with me. I didn’t know if I was impressed with his forwardness or if I should have been angry. Maybe I should have slapped him? But I liked the mix of power that was going on between the two of us. He intrigued me and made me want him more and more.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said with a sly smile.

I tried to talk him out of walking me home. He looked like he was just heading out for his run, but since it was the middle of the night, I accepted his offer. Surely I wasn’t ready to give up my time with this man that I’d been looking for over the last several days.

It was a delicate balance between the sexual desires I had for this man and my hope of keeping him around for longer than a night. He really seemed like the sort of man that could keep me entertained longer and harder than many other men could manage.

We walked slowly, and I talked while he listened. I shared stories about Bain and how the small town had survived for so many years. It was a totally boring conversation, especially considering he had just told me he wanted to taste me. But I wanted to talk and hoped he would talk too. I’d grown up around the city with my parents and grandparents living there, and I was really proud to be back in the town. Even though it sort of felt like I was giving up on a life in the city, a life as an artist, a life that I was afraid of having.

He was a gentleman and left me at my door without a word about his need to taste me. I made my way into the house and smiled at the excitement over having this man as a potential lover very soon. By the time I settled in for the night, it was more like morning. I just couldn’t keep my brain off that gorgeous neighbor.

It killed me that I had, again, forgotten to ask him his name.

He distracted me so much when he grabbed me that I had forgotten all reasonable thought processes. Surely there was something wrong with me. What ordinary girl had feelings so strong about a man whom she didn’t even know his name?

I figured his name was something exotic. He had dark brown hair with matching deep brown eyes. His olive skin was smooth as perfection. He had to have an exotic name to match his exotic appearance. Perhaps it was Xavier or Maximus, or something even more interesting.

As I drifted off to sleep, I could still feel the pressure of his hard bulge up against me. I closed my eyes and remembered how it felt to have such a gorgeous man desire me.

When morning came, I was determined. I was tired of thinking about my neighbor as ‘the gorgeous man,’ I wanted to know his name. With my coffee in hand, I walked casually over to his house and knocked on the door. Remembering back to the evening before, I suddenly didn’t want him to answer. I started to back away from the door, but he answered.

“Yes,” he said with a grin.

He was again without his shirt; I thought maybe that was a problem for him, perhaps he just didn’t like to wear shirts. It certainly wasn’t a problem for me! His hands were covered in paint, and he wiped them on his pants as he looked at me.

“I need to know your name,” I said without any introduction.

His eyes widened, and he took a step out of his house and toward me. Even in that brief moment, I felt the sexual energy practically dripping off of this man. How was it that I’d ever known a life without this level of excitement? I longed for this man. I was wet with excitement for him. I couldn’t wait to feel him inside of me, yet I still didn’t know his name.

“What do you need this information for?”

His eyes looked deep into mine, and I could hardly gather the words I needed to answer him. I desperately wanted to answer him, finally readying myself to speak.

“If we are neighbors, we should know each other’s names. You already know mine.”

“Yes, Isabella. It is such a beautiful name. My name is Marcus,” he said dryly.

“Hello Marcus,” I said with my own wicked smile.

I felt better instantly. I knew his name and could actually stop addressing him as ‘the gorgeous man next door.’ I froze for a moment as I imagined how his name would sound rolling off my lips while he was on top of me. How would I scream out his name while I orgasmed? I couldn’t help it; I wanted to know.

“Hello Isabella,” he said my name slowly with his rough voice.

The way he said my name made me want him. Who am I kidding, he didn’t have to say a thing, and I wanted him. This man was consuming my thoughts, and I just needed to have him already so I could move on. But maybe I should get to know him a little? Perhaps just bringing him to my bed wasn’t the best idea if we were going to be neighbors.

I actually thought I should talk to him; I still knew nothing about him, and as much as my body longed to know him more intimately, my mind told me to beware. There was something about this new resident of Bain, something secretive and suspicious about him.

“Are you painting? It’s pretty early to be painting,” I said as I looked at his paint-coated hands.

For some reason, this statement made him laugh. Not just a chuckle, but an outright full-on laugh. I didn’t get it. I looked away from him and uncomfortably continued to stand there.

“What time do you think it is?” he asked as his laughter calmed.

“I don’t know eight or so in the morning.”

I didn’t have my phone with me, so I didn’t know exactly. But whatever time it was, it certainly wasn’t this funny. This guy was already driving me crazy with his idea of humor and such.

“Sweetheart, it’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon.”

“What!”

The shock of his statement didn’t fully register with me. There was no way it was that late; I would know if I had slept away my entire Sunday. He had to be playing some sort of joke on me. Certainly, I hadn’t slept my entire day away.

He stepped into his house and left the door open. Within a moment, he was back with his own cell phone. He handed it to me, and the clock on the front read 3:50 p.m.

My jaw dropped open, and I just stared at his phone. How had I slept so late again? What was coming over me? Then I realized he had just let me hold his phone. I don’t think I have ever had a man freely let me hold their phone, and my girlfriends and I had just talked about this a few weeks ago.

Men are always trying to hide things, secret flirty text messages, naked photos, there was always something on their phones that they didn’t want their women to see. Yet here I was, holding this complete stranger’s phone in my hand. It struck me as odd. He seemed like the kind of guy who had a whole plethora of secrets; I figured they just must not be located in his phone.

“Wow, I can’t believe it is so late. I really have to get some staining done before the end of the day. It was nice meeting you, Marcus,” I said, and then I turned toward my house. I only had a few more steps before I was indoors when he hollered after me.

“Hey, do you have any painter’s tape? I seem to be making a mess everywhere.”

I looked at his paint-coated hands. He definitely was making a mess everywhere. There was no doubt about that.

“I don’t think painter’s tape will help with that.” I smiled and continued toward the door of my house. “But, yes I have some. Come on in. Just don’t touch anything with those hands of yours.”

The last thing I needed was his paint-covered hands touching any of the woodwork I was working so hard to restore.