Page 3 of Midnight Wedding

Hot Neighbor’s still handsome as sin, even looking like he’s about to blow my skull off. The guy’s big and muscular, athletic and gorgeous, with full lips and tan skin.

Despite the clear threat in his expression, he’s otherworldly.

Slowly, I raise my hands up in the air. I open my mouth to speak but I can’t find words. I’m scared, aroused, terrified, mostly confused and emotionally wrecked.

His eyebrows raise.

“Are those my underwear?” he asks.

My mouth falls open.

I’ve still got his boxer briefs clutched in my left hand.

That finally breaks the traffic jam in my skull. “I can explain,” I say as my cheeks turn bright red.

Am I seriously embarrassed right now? The guy’s still pointing a gun at my head and I’m worried aboutunderwear?

“Did you break in here to steal my clothes?” he asks, a little smirk on his lips.

Holy shit. Is he seriously joking around with me?

“The door was open.” I let the undies fall from my hand, beyond mortified. Somehow the embarrassment overwhelms the fear and my head starts working again. Partially, anyway. “I called in and nobody answered and I was looking around?—”

“And you thought my underwear was interesting?”

Yep, definitely fucking with me. Who the hell is this gorgeous asshole and how is he acting so smooth?

“It was under all the money.”

He glances down at my feet, frowning. The gun never wavers from my chest as he looks back up. “You’re that girl.”

“I’m definitelyagirl.”

“The neighbor. I’ve seen you around.”

He noticed me? Hot Neighbor actually noticed me?

Oh my God, Lena, this is not the time.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to come in here, it’s just that the door was open.”

“You said that already.”

“I was trying to make sure nobody got hurt.” I clear my throat and look around. That seems believable, right? Just an innocent bystander trying to do right by a neighbor, that’s me. “What happened in here, anyway? Not that it’s my business, but?—”

But I can’t keep my stupid mouth shut and just had to ask.

Slowly, the gun lowers. He’s staring like he’s not sure what to do with me, and I get the feeling he’s caught between normal violence and extremely grisly and painful violence.

I’m leaning toward normal, but that’s just me.

Getting murdered doesn’t sound all that appealing at the moment. Since I have no clue what to do in a situation like this, I decide the only way out is through sheer force of will.

Otherwise, he’s going to blow my brains out, and that would be bad.

I like my brains. I’ve got wonderful brains.

He looks at the floor and kicks at some debris. “I’m not sure yet. I just got back.”

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