social media all day, but you never talk to anyone anymore. Like when was your last human interaction?”
“That’s not necessary for my job,” she pointed out.
“No, but it is for your mental health. Since the breakup...”
“Don’t even mention his name.” Kevin. The investment banker who’d made fun of her consulting business, who often told her she should “get a real job” and endlessly made jokes about how work done in her pajamas was no work at all. But Chloe was proud of her accomplishments, proud of being her own boss. But because she didn’t have a traditional job, Kevin thought she was somehow less important. He saw a girlfriend mostly as an accessory and not a person, which was why he called her by the wrong name in bed...a name she discovered from a series of lurid text messages on his phone belonged to his coworker, a woman he’d been sleeping with on the side.
“You’ve been hiding, Chlo. Time to break free and get out there,” Ryan said.
She knew he was right, but she didn’t feel like getting out there. As awful as Kevin had been to her, she’d gotten to the point where she had really started to think they might get married. He’d told her as much. The fact that he’d been cheating was a blow she still felt six months later. It was because Chloe knew she wanted more. She was closing in on thirty, and her biological clock had kicked into overdrive. She wanted a baby, a family, a husband, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to find any of those things going out to a bar with Ryan.
“I will—eventually,” she said, and glanced at her cooling burrito on her plate, thinking about how unappetizing it looked. “I just need some time. Besides, I’ve got a new neighbor who just moved in. Totally ripped. And loaded, too.”
“Oh! A Christian Grey!”
“Uh...well, if Christian Grey wore shorts and had tattoos.” She took a bite of the burrito and nearly scalded her tongue. She dropped the too-hot microwaved dinner.
“Ooooh. A bad boy. A rich bad boy. I like it.”
Chloe laughed. “Don’t tell Brendan. He’ll get jealous.”
“He might. You should go for that. Ride that bike if you know what I mean.”
“I think he might be gay. I mean, he’s got a six-pack.” Chloe bit her lip as she wandered to her window and glanced at her new neighbor’s darkened third floor. She’d watched all afternoon but hadn’t seen Jackson again. Instead, an army of assistants had come and unpacked him entirely. She’d never seen such efficiency before, but in a matter of hours, they’d unpacked his kitchen, set up his bed, even hung art on the walls. It must be nice to be rich, she’d thought, as she’d watched his minions do all the grunt work.
Ryan considered this. “You’re right. Six-pack abs—they are rampant in the gay community,” he deadpanned.
Just then, the neighbor’s light flickered on. Chloe backed away from her window. “Uh...gotta go, okay? I’ll call you later.”
“Just remember what I said. Don’t be a hermit!”
“Love you!” she called, and then clicked off. She told herself she shouldn’t spy on her neighbor, and besides, it was probably one of his assistants anyway. But as she hovered near the curtains, she watched Jackson enter the third floor from the open stairway at the back of the living room. He immediately tugged off his shirt.
Oh, my. That was a view she could get used to: well-toned pecs, rippled abs, broad, muscled shoulders. She wondered again what he did for a living. Model? Action hero? Jackson could be either. He disappeared into the far right room, his bedroom, as she’d watched his home-decor minions set up his bed, and carry in armful after armful of expensive suits. She didn’t see a kitchen, so it had to be on one of the two floors below. She couldn’t imagine what, exactly, he was doing with all that space. For all she knew, the first floor could be an indoor basketball court. Or filled with trampolines. She had no idea how the über-rich lived.
Maybe he was just going to bed, she thought, and then went back to her burrito. She took a bite that was still part frozen. How was one end on fire and the other an ice cube? Ugh. She put it down, suddenly not feeling like eating it. She clicked off the overhead kitchen light, the oven light the only thing illuminating her small kitchen. She glanced up and saw Jackson emerging from his bedroom wearing only mesh shorts, slung low on his hips, and still no shirt. He sank down on his plush leather couch and put his feet up. His phone must’ve sounded because he picked it up and pressed it to his ear. Then, a second later, he tapped the screen. He laid back on the couch, his eyes on the staircase. Suddenly, a woman clad only in the shortest silk jumper Chloe had ever seen appeared on the stairwell in strappy stiletto heels and too much makeup, her auburn bob cut at chin length. She was gorgeous. She sauntered over to the couch, a pouty expression on her face, and he sat there, watching her.
Was that his girlfriend? She felt a hardened pit at the center of her stomach.
But she didn’t greet him like a girlfriend. They didn’t hug or kiss. Instead, she began to slip out of her little shorts romper, the silk sleeves fluttering downward, revealing the fact that she wore no bra. She was all business, this one. No warm fuzzies. He watched the show appreciatively as she kicked out of the one-piece, now wearing only stilettos, her bare, toned body in front of him.
Well, he’s definitely not gay.
Chloe knew she needed to stop watching. But she couldn’t. She clutched at the curtain, half-hidden, mesmerized by the action unfolding in front of her. It was a billion times more interesting than her abandoned burrito. Her bad-boy neighbor stood then, and the woman knelt in front of him. She jerked down his shorts as he grabbed a handful of her hair and gave it a playful tug.
I can’t watch this, her mind screamed, and yet she couldn’t look away. The woman freed him, and Chloe nearly gasped...he was bigger than Kevin. Much bigger. She didn’t even know they came that big, even while the woman worked at it with both hands, and he stiffened beneath her touch. He watched her intently as she took part of him in her mouth, the tip. God, did they not know the windows were wide-open? Did they not know she could see...everything?
This was taking the invisible fourth floor to an entirely different level.
Yet part of her realized neither one of them cared. They were intent on sex, only on the sex. After a minute, he pulled her to her feet and whirled her around, completely in command as he bent her across the arm of his couch. Jackson reached his fingers down to her inner thigh, stroking her, then disappearing inside her. She moaned, throwing her head back. Then he had a condom package in his mouth and ripped it open, rolling the latex down his now-ready self. Then he entered her: strong, possessive, decisive.
I shouldn’t watch this. Yet she couldn’t turn away, either.
Chloe felt her whole body run hot. For a second, she imagined herself there, over that couch, him taking her from behind like an animal, him filling her up. She watched his abs tighten as he worked himself in and out, the woman’s face showing joy and want, as she took the whole thick length of him again and again. Chloe watched, transfixed, unable to turn away. She’d never had a man that big before. What would that feel like? The strange woman in his living room gripped the sofa cushions, her knuckles white as she seemed to cry out. Was she climaxing? Her whole body vibrated...and Chloe shivered. God, she felt a stab of jealousy. She wanted to climax just like that, feeling Jackson deep inside her.
Instantly, her body came
