Page 4 of Beauty and the Cop
He winks at me before turning to jog down the steps. I stand there for a long minute, watching him like a total creeper. When he turns around and catches me staring at him, I squeak and hurry inside.
He's still laughing when the door closes behind me.
Chapter Two
Noah
"Fuck," I growl softly,watching as my hot-as-fuck neighbor sashays across the street with a covered basket in her hands and a look of determination painted across her gorgeous face. My dick presses up against my zipper as my eyes run down her body, lingering on her curves.
Elsie Cameron is a siren, 50s pin-up model perfect. And she's had my dick hard since she moved in last week. Meeting her two days ago didn't help the situation. If anything, it only made me want her more.
The woman ticks boxes I didn't even know needed ticking. I spend most of my free time lately watching through the curtains like a goddamn stalker, just hoping for a glimpse of her. The fact that our living room windows perfectly align keeps her in my line of sight far more than she'd be comfortable with, I'm sure. Has that stopped me from watching her? Fuck no.
My partner, Jackson Pallard, thinks I've lost my mind. He's not entirely wrong. I've never obsessed about a woman before. I rarely even go out. In fact, I can't even remember the last time I took someone out. But Elsie is different for reasons I can't quite put my finger on. She's fresh air in a city seriously lacking it.
I don't know if it's her cute southern drawl, her come-fuck-me smile, or the way she just lives her life, oblivious to the fact that I'm watching her through her window, but something about her has me hooked.
The woman dances around her living room every day, as if it's her job. She's fucking terrible at it, but she does it anyway. She also eats frosting from the container like it's the best goddamn thing she's ever tasted and sings at the top of her lungs while she's out jogging. I can't get enough of her.
I lose sight of her for a moment as she crosses from the sidewalk to the walkway leading to my door. I mutter another curse and quickly stomp toward the door to stalk her through the peephole.
My lips curve into an amused grin when she raises her hand to knock and then pauses to smooth her curly blonde hair down instead.
"Be normal," she mumbles to herself, clearly unaware that I'm listening to her. "Don't accuse him of being in the mafia or say anything insulting this time. You can do it."
I bite back a chuckle.
"Crap. Maybe I should just leave it with a note?" She glances around like she's seriously considering the option. And I don't fucking like that possibility—at all, in fact.
I damn near rip the door off the hinges trying to open it before she scurries back to her place without knocking.
She blinks those wide blue eyes at me, as if shocked to see me standing in the doorway.
"Oh. You're home."
"I am." I grin, pulling the door closed behind me. "I thought I heard someone out there." Yeah, lying is a sin, yadda yadda yadda. Whatever. She's on my porch, talking to me. It washes in the end.
"I brought you bread." She practically hits me in the stomach with the picnic basket and then squeaks again when I take it from her hands. "Oh my gosh." Her head tips back, her eyes on the sky, a look of pure exasperation written all over her face. "Why am I like this?"
A loud bark of laughter rumbles from my lips at the question. "You're fine, Elsie. Most people are nervous around cops."
"Really?" She wrinkles her nose, tipping her head forward to look at me again. "Why?"
The innocent question does things to me that it shouldn't. She's too naïve to be alone in a city like this. Actually, she's too goddamn sweet to be on her own in any city, anywhere. Ever. I doubt packing her things and moving her in with me immediately is an option, though.
Dammit.
"Something to do with the badge and the gun." I shrug. It's a watered-down version of the truth. Cops make people nervousbecause there are a lot of shitty cops who love throwing their authority around like they're untouchable. I try not to be one of them, but it's not like people can tell that on sight.
"Right," she says, and then her lips curve into a smile. "Well, at least you aren't in the mafia. I'd be even more nervous then."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Was your friend too disappointed?"
She holds her finger and thumb an inch apart, a lopsided grin on her face. "Little bit, but she also once asked me if I think the Hulk's…" She stumbles to a stop, her cheeks bright pink. "You know what? Never mind."
"Nah, you have to finish that sentence now."
"Nope."
