New: Quick & Dirty: Neighbors Read online

  A few more thrusts as she wilts in my grasp, my lips latch on to her neck and I come hard with a deep groan. I huff and release the flesh of her throat, licking the tender spot as my senses return to me. Monica clings to me, arms wrapped around my neck. My hands find her face through a mess of sweat dampened hair and I pull her back far enough to meet her gaze.

  “You all right?” I ask.

  Her reddened lips puff as she pushes out a breath while she nods.

  I grin and kiss her hard. She squeaks. The little noise of surprise or delight makes me laugh against her mouth.

  “Logan?”

  I hum against her cheek kissing my way down her neck. I don’t want to let go of her. I don’t want to stop touching her. I can’t leave this bed. Not after that.

  “Stay,” she says. “Do that to me again.”

  The words send a jolt of electricity up my spine. Instead of answering, I tip her backwards and continue to kiss every inch of her. With pleasure, sweetheart.

  Chapter Three

  Monica

  I can count on one hand the number of times my ex-husband put any sort of effort into giving me an orgasm. From our very first time at eighteen years old until the last time—almost three years ago, long before our divorce—the most I could ever expect out of him was the occasional opportunity to be on top. I met Logan hours ago and I’ve run out of fingers to count the orgasms he’s worked tirelessly all night long to gift me.

  With my head against the pillows I watch in awe as he dances his fingers along my skin, the familiar feeling of his erection poking my thigh. Again? My god, he’s like a dream. The gentle pads of his fingertips sweep from my collarbone to my navel and he sighs. We’ve been at it for hours only coming up for air and water and a box of Wheat Thins. Each time we come is more intense than the last. Every time he pushes inside me my brain tells me he’s right where he belongs. The thought has written itself in my mind so many times it’s nearly etched permanently, like a wood carving in an old tree. He fits me.

  By now he’s seen and felt every inch of me but a part of me is still self-conscious. Certainly my grooming habits are not that of the average twenty-four year old woman. I’ve never understood the bare look but back when I was having sex regularly I did enough maintenance to keep downstairs looking like a well-manicured playing field. However, given a three year dry spell and the fact that I in no way anticipated my hot neighbor coming over for a fuck fest, my bush is less a well-manicured playing field and more like the yard of a condemned hoarder house. At least I shaved my legs and underarms when I bathed.

  My hair situation is only the tip of the iceberg. The softness of my stretch-marked belly and the thickness of my thighs hang in my thoughts each time Logan touches or grazes his lips against my so-called problem areas. But he seems to lavish his attention to all parts of my body, not shying away or avoiding one bit of me. It’s both thrilling and terrifying. His gentle, earnest touch makes me feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt before.

  I snap out of my thoughts when I notice him dragging his fingers along the thin scar low on my abdomen. I swallow hard. Another imperfection.

  “Battle wound?” He asks, flicking his eyes to mine.

  “Hazard of the job,” I say with a laugh.

  “What job is that?” His eyes go wide, possibly wondering if I’m selling organs to pay my rent.

  “Motherhood,” I reply. He blinks and examines the scar again. “Nate came the old fashioned way but Hailey had other plans,” I say. “She wouldn’t get into position no matter what I did. All these crazy yoga poses and this weird thing with a scarf. She wasn’t having it. So, C-section.”

  “Badass,” he whispers to my belly.

  I let out a laugh. “What?”

  Logan pins me with his dark stare. “You’re badass. Not only did you grow a person—two people—but they cut one out of you and you think nothing of it. Bad. Ass.”

  My jaw goes slack. My eyes sting barely with the threat of tears. Where was he when I was twenty-four? Oh, right, high school. He somehow catches a read on my thoughts and opens his mouth again.

  “Why’d you want to know how old I am?”

  Logan disconnects with my body for the first time in hours and props himself on one elbow beside me waiting for my answer. The loss of his touch makes me shiver. I felt so warm with his hands on me.

  “I knew you were younger than me but I wanted to know by how much.”

  It’s a lie and the smirk he wears as I say it tells me he knows it.

  “You gonna make me do it again?” He chuckles.

  “Do what?”

  “Ask you the same question three times before you give me your real answer.”

  I huff and train my eyes on the ceiling hoping he understands that I’m not going to answer him. Because I don’t know what to say. Why did I want to know how old he is? Because they didn’t make them like him nine years ago when I was his age. I expected the hot sex from the hot guy, but it’s the tenderness in his eyes that takes me aback. I didn’t expect to feel like…like I’d been made love to. And yet… My brain hums with noise that I can’t decipher. It’s a million thoughts and memories and worries. Curses and desires and fears.

  His hand finds my thigh and warmth floods me again. I sigh at the feeling—the sheer relief his touch offers. As silence hangs I start to feel awkward. His touch tells me he doesn’t want to leave but I’ve never done this before…maybe I should send him on his way. With that thought, Logan pulls me enough to roll me on my side so I face him then erases any space left between our bodies. His hand slides from the nape of my neck to the rounded curve of my ass and with that I know for sure he doesn’t want to go.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” he says.

  “So are you,” I whisper as my hand strokes the roses on his firm chest.

  Our eyes meet and my core clenches with need. Need for him. Need for more of this night. Neither of us breaks the intense gaze we’re sharing. I will him to see my lust as well as my apprehension. Though long before this staring contest I felt like he understood me without words. The light from the hallway leaks into my bedroom illuminating half of his face. His brown eyes are as dark as brown can be without being black but with warmth to them like deep cherry wood. I finally pull my eyes from his and watch his tongue wet his lips, another pulse between my legs at the quick action. If I thought the silence before was awkward, this one has gone on way too long for two people who barely know each other. Unless… Unless he feels like I do and it’s somehow not really all that awkward. It’s comfortable. I draw in a breath and the loud hum of my overworking mind begins again.

  Too young for me.

  Too hot for me.

  Too complicated.

  Too… good.

  “What are you thinking about?” Logan asks.

  I breathe a laugh through my nose and blink a few times, my eyes wetting with irrational emotion. I shake my head and give him a weak half-smile. Best not to burden the guy with my baggage. “Nothing,” I lie. “You?”

  His hand rises to cup one side of my face and I nuzzle into it without thinking.

  “I’m working up the nerve to ask you something,” he replies.

  My smile grows. “Go on…”

  The pad of his thumb draws along my bottom lip and his focus goes with it. I open my mouth and he tugs my lip down to swipe the inside. The way his thumb glides along the sensitive wet skin brings erotic memories of the entire night rushing back to me, flashing chills on my body.

  “Can I kiss you?”

  “Logan, you’ve fucked me all night long, a kiss isn’t asking much,” I say with a light laugh.

  His stare grows serious as it levels on me. “A kiss outside of a fuck is different. And I’m not asking to fuck you again right now. I want to kiss you. I wanna kiss you for a while. I want to lay here beside you, naked, in the dark and just kiss you.”

  My ribs ache and my breath feels stolen. The intensity of his gaze, the light touch of his ha
nd against my jaw, and the pull I feel toward him make me do the only thing I can think of.

  I nod.

  I consent to the intimacy he suggests. I say yes to the kind of act I’m not sure I ever experienced with my husband. I agree to give him more than what I thought this night was supposed to be.

  He draws me near and presses his lips to mine. With the gentle slip of his tongue, I lose myself in him. I lose myself in the simplicity of making out. No hands roaming. No legs spreading or hips bucking. Just kissing. Heavy breathing and those gentle lip smacking noises mixed with a few sighs. I lose myself and I forget my list of reasons why he should go home and forge a new list of all the things I want to do with him that don’t end in a fuck. I lose myself in Logan until my eyes close and sleep claims us both and I try not to think about how comfortable I feel in his arms.

  * * *

  My eyes flash open as the sun seeps in through my window. Forgot to close my blackout curtains. When I turn to see the alarm clock I register the heavy arm draped over my middle and it all comes rushing back. Holy shit. What a night.

  Logan’s sun kissed hair lays over his forehead, out of place but somehow perfect. His long lashes touch his cheeks and when his sleepy mouth parts, my fingertips touch my own lips remembering the never-ending kiss that will forever be seared in my memory.

  While I stare at his mouth thinking of all the ways it pleased me last night, his eyes open and he breathes deeply.

  “Morning,” he says.

  Twenty-four hours ago he spoke the same word to me but I had no idea then we’d end up here.

  “Good morning.”

  A smile paints him and he stretches with a groan. “How’d you sleep?”

  “I slept well. How about you?”

  He pulls my body close and presses a kiss to my throat eliciting a giggle from me. “Amazing.”

  I inch away to look him in the eye and his brows jump when I open my mouth to speak. He puts his index finger to my lips to silence me and grins. “What do I get if I can guess what you’re about to say?”

  I roll my eyes and speak around his shushing finger. “Oh, please. How do you think you know what I’m going to say?”

  He scoffs and moves his hand to my hip. “Okay maybe I don’t know exactly what you’re going to say but I know what you’re thinking about.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep. And if I’m right, I think I should get a prize.”

  “A prize?”

  His mouth turns down and his eye roll upward in thought. “A…privilege.”

  “You sound like one of my kids negotiating for more screen time.”

  The hand resting on my hip stiffens to grip me and he pushes himself flush against me so I can feel his hard cock.

  “Hey now,” he says. “Just because you’re a cougar doesn’t mean you get to call me a kid.”

  I should be appalled at him calling me a cougar but I find it hilarious. I can’t hide the smirk twisting my lips. “Okay let’s hear it.”

  “You don’t want to discuss the terms of my prize first?”

  My eyes darken, wanton and heavy as I meet his eyes. “Tell me what I’m thinking, Logan.”

  He licks his lips and moves to speak against my ear, hot breath tickling my cheek. My eyes flutter closed.

  “It’s hot…sweet…wet. You, sweetheart, can’t keep stop thinking about…coffee,” he growls.

  I moan at the mention of the word and he rolls onto his back with a hearty laugh, clapping his hands.

  “I even made you moan,” he says, an infectious smile on his face. A bold surge moves my limbs without my full permission and I straddle him. He stills and exhales a stuttered breath. His hands slide up my thighs and I push one hand through my hair. Sunlight bathes my naked body but I don’t attempt to cover the parts of myself I don’t like. I let him see all of me and the heated look in his eyes tells me he likes what he sees.

  “You want a prize huh?” I murmur, reaching down to stroke his cock where it twitches against me. His eyes close and he releases a sexy sigh.

  “Don’t you want your coffee first?”

  My face falls. God, I do. As badly as I’m craving him again, I want that coffee. My silence makes him open his eyes. He looks up at me with a grin and he pats my legs to nudge me off of him. I twist my mouth and release him from the grasp of my thighs sheepishly. Logan sits up and plants a kiss on my neck, a place I’m beginning to realize he favors, and laughs.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get my own hot, sweet, wet treat before too long.”

  His words send butterflies through my belly and his tender hand sweeping up my spine gives me goosebumps. He stands from my bed and finds his shorts, slipping into them before heading to the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to—”

  He turns and pins me with the kind of look he gave me multiple times last night. “I know my way around a coffee pot,” he assures me.

  I nod and a part of me relaxes. A part of me I didn’t know had been coiled in a knot for some time. From the day I left Todd, maybe even before, I’d had to pull myself up by the bootstraps and take care of everything on my own. I didn’t know what it was like to be cared for anymore. Even if it was just a pot of coffee and more orgasms than I could count, it was still a level of care I’d long forgotten.

  “Where’s your sugar hiding?” Logan hollers from the kitchen. I laugh and throw on a t-shirt and my panties.

  “Left hand cabinet above the sink,” I call back.

  My phone on the bedside table vibrates and I pick it up as I walk out to the kitchen, the bubbling sounds and initial rich fragrance of coffee drawing me there. My mood instantly clouds when I see I have a text from Todd. My feet hit the cold linoleum of the kitchen when I open the text and see a photo of my kids with her. Smiling. Like they belong to her. Like they fit with her.

  Almost immediately another text comes from him.

  Todd: Shit. I’m sorry. I meant to send that to my parents.

  Another photo of the kids by themselves comes through. I take a minute to admire my beautiful children and the looks of happiness on their faces set against the background of the woods. But soon tears prick my eyes and I wonder if Todd sent the first photo on purpose to fuck with me. To hurt me. Like, look at how much they love her and you aren’t around. Also, he’s sending pictures of Brandy to his parents? Do they like her? I still talk to Todd’s mom occasionally and she’s still sweet as can be to me. A new thread of betrayal stitches itself across my heart.

  “Asshole,” I curse under my breath.

  “Hey now, easy with the name calling. First I’m a kid, now I’m an asshole? Meanwhile, I’m making your coffee just the way you like it. Thank you very much.”

  I glance up to see Logan mocking me with an offended look on his face. He stirs a lump of sugar into the contents of my largest and favorite mug—the one with cartoon owls on it. His teasing look morphs into concern when he sees my face. One tear slips down my cheek but I quickly wipe it away and sniffle trying to salvage a poker face. I remind myself again, this young man doesn’t want or need to take part in the emotional shit storm that is my life.

  He doesn’t rush to me. His brows knit together as he takes a slow step forward, sliding the coffee mug to me on the countertop.

  “You okay?”

  His voice is low and hesitant. He knows I’m fragile and I hate that. I don’t want to be fragile. I don’t want to be the basket case next door who’s good for a hot night in bed but weeps the next morning when reality hits her in the face. I purse my lips and nod, unable to find my voice. I bring the coffee to my lips and revel in the first taste.

  Logan’s soft thoughtful gaze weakens me and I remember how he stared at me in bed. The way he touched my scar with care and gazed upon my less than perfect body with lust. After only a few hours, I trust him with more than my body. I open the first photo Todd sent me and hand the phone to Logan. His eyes land on the screen and his brow furrows creating deep lines above darkened eyes.
He looks angry and I haven’t even explained yet.

  “My ex-husband sent me that. My kids with his whore. Not the best way to wake up.”

  I see his throat work while he stares at the photo on the screen until it times out and flips to blackness. He looks up at me and blinks away the tension on his face before he puts my phone on the kitchen counter.

  “That really fucking sucks,” he says before taking a sip of his coffee.

  I stare at him and silence myself with coffee too. You took the words right out of my mouth.

  Chapter Four

  Logan

  You know what expression I hate? It’s a small world. That’s some lame shit my Aunt Pam would say if she ran into my cousin’s old soccer coach at the grocery. The world is huge. Even this town is pretty good sized but people cross paths. That’s just life. That’s happenstance.

  But the only thing I can think after staring at a photo of my ex-girlfriend Brandy with two kids who belong to the woman I’ve spent the last few hours burying my cock inside is…it’s a small fucking world after all.

  Do I tell her? I don’t know what I would say. Monica called her a whore right after I recognized who I was looking at and the word almost made me flinch. Brandy’s a lot of things but she isn’t a whore. I haven’t seen or heard from Brandy in close to two years. You’d think two people who used to date and ran in the same social circles would bump into each other at least once after a break up… But, no, the first time I see her after our inevitable ending is the morning after I’m certain I’ve caught feelings for the neighbor I only intended to fuck.

  Dammit.

  “Sorry,” Monica says snapping me out of my thoughts. “You don’t need to know about my drama.”