Look At Me

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.