Page 31 of Neighbor from Hell
But the second I reach my cottage, the facade cracks. I push the door shut and fumble with the lock. Leaning against the door, I let out a shaky breath, then another, and another, gulping air like I’ve been underwater too long. My hands lift, hovering in front of my face, and they’re shaking—actually shaking—like the aftershock of a storm. My knees wobble as dizziness creeps in. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to will my heart to slow.
Big mistake.
The darkness behind my lids is a canvas for him. His face, his lips, that kiss—unwanted, unexpected, and yet… I melted.I should’ve shoved him away, should’ve been repulsed the moment he touched me, but my body betrayed me and became as soft as wax under his heat.
Disgust curls in my gut now, not just at him but at me. How could I fold like that? That rush, the pleasure and flood of emotions from one damn kiss… It’s too much. My hands clench into fists and press harder against my thighs. Is this why I’ve been so sharp with him from the start? Because I always knew he had the power to reduce me to this trembling mass of jelly.
His face flashes in my mind—those gray eyes, that jawline sharp enough to cut glass—and I hate how it stirs me. He’s handsome, but I’ve met plenty of good-looking men. Why does he have the power to turn me into this spineless mess?
I turn and press my burning forehead to the door, the coolness a small mercy. I’ve lost something today—control, maybe, or dignity—and he knows it. He’s got the upper hand now, and the thought makes my stomach twist with bitter anger.
I push off the door, my eyes landing on the chaos of my cottage: paint cans stacked like sentinels, brushes strewn across the floor, the promise of work I was so eager for this morning. Now? It’s a taunt. Exhaustion hits like a wave, and hunger gnaws at my empty stomach, but I can’t face any of it. I stumble to the sofa, collapsing onto its worn cushions.
Sleep, I think. Just sleep it off.
But sleep won’t come. I toss, staring at the cracked ceiling, then the window where dusk is creeping in. My mind’s a traitor, replaying his hands, his breath, the way my body sang under his touch. I groan, dragging my hands over my face, and grab my phone. It’s late in Chicago, but I need to speak to Sandy. I dial, my thumb hesitating only a second before I hit call.
She picks up, voice groggy. “Lauren? Hi. Are you okay?”
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt, wincing. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine, no big deal,” she says. I can hear her shifting, sitting up, the rustle of sheets. “What’s wrong?”
Guilt pricks me—she’s worried now, and I hate dragging her into this mess. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “It’s… so stupid and it’s not a big deal, I can call you tomorrow?—”
“No way,” she cuts in, sharper now. “I’m up. Needed to pee anyway, and I was this close to dreaming I was on a toilet and peeing to my heart’s content. You know those dreams, right? Anyway, disaster avoided, thanks to you.”
I snort, a small laugh breaking through the fog. “What about Daniel? Isn’t he there?”
“Not tonight,” she says. “You’ve got me all to yourself. Now spill—what’s got you like this?”
I hesitate, the words tangling in my throat. “I… went to his manor,” I admit.
Her gasp is instant, electric and full of excitement. “Oh, wow! You finally gave in.”
“What do you mean ‘gave in’?” I ask defensively. “I never planned to go at all.”
“Okay, okay,” she says. “Don’t bite my head off. I’m on your side and I’m just glad things have got… interesting for you.”
“Interesting is not how I would put it,” I mutter, sinking deeper into the sofa. “I think I’m in trouble.”
“Trouble?” Her voice becomes concerned. “What happened? What’d he do?”
“It’s not just him—it’s me, too. We’re both…” I curse under my breath, frustrated. “I went to make him stop, Sandy. The constant invitation to tea, the constant offers to buy my land, all of it. I wanted him to back off. But then we were arguing, like always, and suddenly his hand was on me?—”
“What?” she interrupts, panicked.
“Not like that,” I say quickly, my face heating as I remember. “It was… God, I can still feel the warmth of his fingers. He kissed me.”
Sandy’s speechless for a beat, then, “Ohhh, that kind of grab. Okay, so what happened?”
“I don’t know,” I groan. “His eyes, or the heat from his body, but I… I kissed him back. Or at least, I didn’t stop him. All my fight, my strength, just… went. I melted, Sandy, like some cheap candle from the dollar store, and I hate that.”
“So you didn’t want it?” she interrogates.
“If I didn’t want it, I would’ve shoved him off the second he tried. That’s the problem. I should’ve been disgusted, but I wasn’t. I folded, and now he knows I’m attracted to him. Ugh, I’m so angry with myself, I want to scream.”
“Whoa, hold on there. Why are you so angry with yourself? First of all, it’s not a crime to kiss a guy, but let’s dissect this a little more. You don’t kiss random guys, Lauren. This is new. Is he really that hot?”
