She Did a Bad, Bad Thing. Stephanie Bond

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She Did a Bad, Bad Thing - Stephanie Bond Mills & Boon Blaze

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good grief,” she muttered, feeling a little dirty, like a voyeur, yet curiously unable to stop listening. The woman’s caterwauling escalated in time with the banging noise and was joined by a man’s low voice.

      “Now!” she screamed. “I’m coming! Now! Now! NOWWWW!”

      From the synchronized clamor, it appeared that they arrived together. Jane sat unmoving, unable to believe what had just transpired, but distantly aware of a heaviness in her breasts and a tingle of desire in her midsection.

      Embarrassment swelled in her chest and she grappled with the remote to increase the volume over the music still pounding through the wall. She tried to concentrate on the storyline of the show, but her mind kept returning to the fact that she’d just heard her new neighbor have sex.

      As far as neighbors went, that fell under the category of TMI: Too Much Information. Especially since she could visualize his long, muscular body naked and sweaty, tangled in the sheets…And she wondered what kind of nasty things he’d said to the woman that had made her scream as if she’d hung between life and death.

      Working her mouth back and forth, Jane studied a crab wonton, then popped it into her mouth. It was the most satisfying thing she would get tonight.

      But as her attention continued to wander and she realized that she’d missed huge chunks of the program, her irritation ballooned again. Nasty Boy had foisted his sex life on her and completely ruined her evening. And while she stewed about the man’s crudeness—and rudeness—the rhythmic thumping started up again along with the woman’s commentary.

      “Oh, baby, that’s it…that’s it…oh, yeah. Say something nasty…oh, yeah.”

      Jane stuck her tongue into her cheek. Not again. She hadn’t even had time to finish her dinner! Worse, she had no idea what was happening on her show.

      She stabbed at the lo mein as the movement on the other side of the wall grew more frenetic. Nasty Boy apparently had stamina…and finesse. He knew just where to put it, oh baby, he knew just how to do it, oh yeah.

      It was like bad song lyrics.

      What was he saying to her? She leaned closer to the wall, but couldn’t make out the low murmurings. With a jolt, Jane realized that she was rocking in time with the couples’ rhythm and she was feeling…warm.

      And…moist.

      How long had it been since she’d had sex? There hadn’t been anyone since James, and the last few times with him had been a letdown.

      Who was she kidding? Every time with James had been a letdown. Every time with every guy—not that there’d been that many—had been a letdown. None of her encounters with men had lived up to the fantasies she’d spun in her head, not one of them had left her feeling like this…with desire coiled tightly in her stomach, aching for release.

      Meanwhile, next door, the woman let go with the intensity and the volume of a hurricane, screeching and banging in a clatter that grated on Jane’s nerves like a fire alarm sounding. Unreasonable anger rose in her chest and she pushed to her feet. She would not be subjected to this kind of…exhibitionism in her own home!

      Striding out into the hallway, she knocked loudly on Perry’s door, and when he didn’t answer, she knocked again, her ire rising even higher. She had lifted her arm to bang on his door again when it suddenly swung open, revealing her neighbor in his long glory, his hair tousled and wearing the jeans that now were only half-zipped. And she had the feeling that this time, he definitely wasn’t wearing underwear.

      He gave her a lopsided smile. “Can I help you, uh…what was your name again?”

      “Jane,” she snapped.

      “Right. What can I do for you?”

      “You can take it down a notch.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean that you and I share a wall and I can hear your…music.”

      “Okay, I’ll turn down the volume on the stereo.” He started to close the door, but she held up her hand. Knowing what he’d done to generate the sheen of perspiration on his chest threatened to tie her tongue in knots, but she reminded herself that she was the victim here. “I can also hear your, um…activities.”

      He blinked. “Activities?”

      She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “Both times.”

      His dark eyebrows shot up, then a devilish smile curved his mouth. “And on a scale of one to ten?”

      She gasped, outraged. “I didn’t come over to score you, Mr.—”

      “Brewer,” he supplied.

      Her mouth tightened. “Mr. Brewer, I came over to ask you as a neighbor to please keep the noise down.”

      “I’ll try,” he said cheerfully, “but I can’t make any promises.” Then he stepped back and closed the door.

      Jane stood there for a few seconds, feeling like a fool. She slunk back to her condo, furious to see that her show had ended, then paced the living room with pent-up energy. To escape, she poured herself a glass of wine and went out to sit on her tiny balcony that faced west, overlooking the lights of Midtown.

      Adrenaline coursed through her body—anger, embarrassment, frustration. She felt as if she were coming out of her skin, and couldn’t rightly blame all of it on her neighbor’s unwitting intrusion. Maybe she was coming down with something…maybe she was experiencing some sort of chemical imbalance. That would explain this profound restlessness that, in truth, had preceded her breakup with James, but had escalated afterward. She had the strangest sensation that her life was careening downhill, picking up speed, but headed nowhere. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, just a feeling of being…unfulfilled.

      When she heard the slide of her neighbor’s balcony door opening, her heart sank—with him permeating her living space, her balcony was her last sanctuary. A tall concrete wall separated their balconies, but that wouldn’t keep her from hearing their call of the wild should they decide to move their gymnastics outdoors. She braced herself for more lewd noises.

      Instead, the woman’s high-pitched laugh reached her ears. “I can’t believe your nerdy neighbor came over to tell you that she heard us having sex through the walls. How rude!”

      Brewer’s laugh was short. “More like a prude.”

      Heat rose in Jane’s face and she sank lower in her chair.

      “Maybe you should find someplace else to live,” his partner suggested, then she laughed. “Because we’re going to drive her crazy. And then, she’s going to drive you crazy.”

      “Why should I leave?” Brewer said. “Because I had the misfortune of moving in next to a homely little geek who’s probably never had a good lay and has nothing better to do than listen to other people get it on?”

      Jane inhaled sharply against the pain in her chest. Her skin burned with needles of humiliation…is that how other people saw her? Emotion clogged her throat and tears pricked her eyes. She stood up abruptly, distantly registering the

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