Page 92 of My Ruthless Neighbor

“Fuck,” I curse through clenched teeth. Beads of sweat drip from my brow as I reach for my phone but something lures my attention to the wall. I turn my head and freeze.

Mismatched eyes.

Ruby red lips.

Long dark hair.

The sharp claws of panic that was about to pierce my skin suddenly disappears.

With one look at the picture, my heartbeats return to normal.

Staring at me through the lens of the camera is none other than Summer Donovan. My loud neighbor who always wears bright fucking colors and loves spouting lies.

It’s a close-up shot that highlights every beautiful detail of her face. Posing sideways with her hair cascading down her side, Mason—the photographer—caught her dazzling smile while her hand cupped her jaw.

The slideshow moves on to the next picture where Summer is propped on a stool, her body facing away and only her face turned to the camera.

She is wearing a pair of jeans with a denim jacket that is slung down, showcasing one of her creamy shoulders. In this shot, she is playing with her hair. Her unique eyes flirting with the camera.

Before I could stare at her some more, the image is gone and replaced by a new one.

Still seated on the stool, her body is now facing the camera. My jaw clenches when I take in the full-body picture. She has discarded her denim jacket and is only in a sleeveless black lace crop top.

Her jean-clad legs are spread open and her palms resting on her knees.

By the time the next picture rolls in, I’m grinding my molars hard.

In this one, she is on the floor, her upper body arched and supported by her palms.

When another picture same as the previous one takes over the wall, I am striding out of the study.

Summer is not just a liar. She is also a hypocrite. A couple of days ago, she didn’t want anything to do with me. Wanted me to stay away from her. Then what is she doing modeling for my ad campaign?

In minimal makeup and a casual outfit, she slayed the shoot. She looked like she was born to be a model.

My fingers ball into a fist when the photos of her playing with her hair flash before my eyes. Her fucking long hair. Just staring at those pictures made me want to wrap it around my fist.

She smiled at the camera with her full bee-stung lips like she knew what effect she has on men.

I am fucking pissed because just watching them makes me want to sink my teeth into her slightly bigger lower lip.

The sight of her lips floods my head with fantasies of having them wrapped around my cock.

Even on her knees, she would glare at me with those different-colored eyes, wouldn’t she? And that specific thought makes me impossibly hard.

I’d been so angry when she told me to stay away from her. Now, look at her, planning to become the face of KIM Advertising’s brand new project.

If she thinks I will allow her to toy with my sanity like that, then she is sorely mistaken.

Opening the door, I step out of my apartment and head straight to hers.

I lift my hand to knock on her door but as soon as it connects with the surface, it gives way and opens.

Her door was fucking unlocked. Great. This girl has no qualms about her safety.

Last time she slipped her hand to stop the elevator and now this. Why is she so damn reckless?

Booty Wurk by T-Pain is playing on full volume. Is she having another one of her parties?

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