Page 16 of The Satyr Next Door
I rolled onto my side, staring at the faint glow of the streetlamp through curtains I’d hung three years ago, back when I thought this house would be a fresh start instead of just another kind of cage. My hand slipped beneath the blanket almost without conscious thought, tracing where he’d touchedme, fingers skimming over cotton that still held the faintest trace of his scent.
Madonna mia.
My breath caught as heat swept through me in waves. I hadn’t felt this alive in years, not since those reckless months in Rome, not since before my marriage withered into duty and compromise. Maybe not ever.
It wasn’t just his kiss, though that alone had been enough to unravel me. It was the way he looked at me, hungry and possessive. Like I was worth wanting. Like I was the only thing in his world.
I closed my eyes and let myself imagine the bus hadn’t come. That I’d stayed in his lap, let him peel my shirt away, worship me with his mouth and hands. Let him press inside me, filling the emptiness I’d carried for years…
My body arched involuntarily, hand pressing harder against cotton that was suddenly too thin and too much of a barrier at the same time. I was half a breath away from sliding my fingers beneath the waistband when reality crashed back.
I groaned into my pillow, rolling away from temptation. Forty years old. Two kids asleep down the hall. A mortgage payment due next week. What business did I have lying here, touching myself while thinking about the satyr next door?
But my body didn’t care about should or shouldn’t. It only cared about how he made me feel: alive. Desired. Seen.
Restless, I padded barefoot to the sliding door that led to my balcony. The night air carried the smell of fruit and herbs, intoxicating. His garden glowed in the dark, fairy lights flickered like fireflies among the fruit trees, shadows dancing over new furniture I hadn’t seen that morning. A low couch draped in fabric. A chaise positioned in the moonlight.
Like he’d been preparing. For someone.
Then he appeared.
Cal stepped into the lantern light with the same grace that made my breath catch every time I saw him move. A bottle of wine dangled from his hand, curls damp, maybe from a shower, skin gleaming under the lights. Barefoot. Bare-legged. Bare everything.
Completely, gloriously naked.
My pulse stuttered, then raced. I should have retreated. Gone back inside. Pretended I hadn’t seen.
Instead, I gripped the railing and stared.
He was beautiful in ways that had nothing to do with human standards. Primal. Mythic. Strength and appetite made flesh. Light carved gold over his chest, down the trail of hair that led to…
He saw me instantly. Of course he did. A satyr doesn’t miss something that obvious.
His grin spread slow and sinful as he tipped the bottle back. When he lowered it, wine stained his lips dark as blood.
“Caught me,Bella,” he called, voice carrying easily. “Satyr at home in his garden. No pipes tonight, just wine, and a woman worth watching.”
Heat seared my cheeks, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
“You’re drunk,” I whispered, though it came out breathless.
“Not drunk.” He gestured lazily with the bottle, muscles shifting in ways that made my thighs clench. “Satyrs don’t get drunk like humans. We… loosen. Laugh louder. Want bolder. Confess more easily.”
My fingers curled tight on the sill. “And what are you confessing?”
His grin softened. “That I haven’t stopped thinking about this afternoon. The way you looked at me. The way you didn’t pull away. I’ve had kisses,Bella.Gods know I’ve had them. But not like that. Not like you.”
The words stole my breath. He swigged again, then set the bottle aside. His eyes followed mine lower, where golden skin gave way to fur. To the place I hadn’t dared to imagine too closely.
Wickedness returned to his smile. “Ahh. Curiosity. I wondered when you’d stop pretending not to look.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he said gently. “And I hope you keep looking. Because when you look at me like that, I almost forget I’m a monster.”
My heart clenched. I should have stepped back. Instead, I leaned forward.
And then his hand slid lower.
