Artists do it dirty.
He loved the poster on her wall. Such an odd item
for the bedroom wall of an adult woman, but then again, he liked it,
so maybe he was just as odd. Didn’t really matter. Once the woman
caught him watching her, well, the game would be over.
Graig settled back into the easy chair he’d moved
into his bedroom. He checked his watch once more. Eleven o’clock.
Just about time for her to come into her bedroom.
He shouldn’t watch her. Shouldn’t be turned on by
the sway of her hips as she shimmied out of her jeans. But damn. She
moved like she knew he was there.
The light flicked on, bathing the room across the
courtyard in warmth. Thank God they both lived on the top floor with
balconies blocking the view to the apartments below. Any lower and
everyone else would be able to see her. Blood pounded in his veins
and heat flooded his body. Any moment now. The woman stepped into
frame. She unwound the elastic from her hair and tossed her dark
tresses over her shoulder. He swore the scent of strawberry floated
to him. Her perfume? The scent of her shampoo? Probably his mind
playing tricks on him, but he didn’t care. He licked his lips. Just
to grab hold of the silky locks and bury his face in them…
She looked so damn familiar, but he’d never
ventured across the courtyard to get a better look. She reminded him
of the minx from the school. Tessa didn’t strike him as the type to
dance in front of an open window. She came across so stiff and
proper, not at all like the vibrant babe he loved to watch. Maybe if
she peeled back the layers surrounding her and lived a little.
Maybe. God, he wanted her to be Tessa. The resemblance was uncanny.
The woman turned her back to him and rolled her
shoulders. Graig rubbed his flattened palm across his torso. His
nipples beaded. From his touch or the vision of her? Both worked for
him. She rested her hands on her hips, drawing his attention to her
ass. A nice, plush bottom, perfect for slapping during sex and
sinful when she danced.
He prayed she’d turn on her stereo. Sometimes he
caught faint snippets of her selections. He wanted the music to
accompany her dance. God, he’d come in his hand just from watching
her move to whatever sensual beat she blasted from her stereo.
She snapped her fingers and left the frame of the
window. Graig shot forward in his seat. Oh hell no, this wasn’t
allowed to be over so soon. His heart raced. “I am too attached to
this mystery woman, but damn,” he mumbled and closed his eyes. “I’m