“That’s … wow. So, they think he killed her?”
I shrug. “They usually look at the closest people to the deceased, right?”
He nods in response, eyes holding mine.
I look away. “And the fact that he’s disappeared isn’t helping his case.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
My eyes snap back to his. It seems an odd question to ask. “What do you mean?” My words are clipped. If they affect him, he doesn’t let on.
Just pushes his hands into his front pockets, rocking on his heels, back still resting against the wall. “I mean, you worked with the guy, and he’s potentially a killer. That would weird anyone out, Audrey.”
Yes, it would. If I were a normal person who hadn’t already experienced the worst of the worst.
“I didn’t know him well. We’ve barely spoken to each other since I started working there. He’s like me. Quiet. Doesn’t like to talk to people.”
Jack stares at me a long moment. “You talk to me.”
“Yeah, well …” I look away from his probing gaze, down at Eleven, running my fingers through her soft fur.
“Does that mean that you like to talk to me?”
Eleven jumps down from my lap and wanders into the kitchen. She was the barrier between us, and now, she’s left me vulnerable.
Thanks, Eleven.
I curl my toes into the carpet. “Maybe.”
A low laugh. I hear him move. Then, he’s a shadow on the floor before me. His booted feet a mere inch from mine. I get a whiff of him—leather and cedar. It weakens me way more than it should.
“Audrey.” His voice sounds deeper, huskier.
I love hearing him say my name. Just the sound of his voice speaking my name turns me on a ridiculous amount.
I lift my eyes to his.
It’s a mistake.
There’s fire in his eyes, and it lights one inside of me.
“I like talking to you too,” he says.
I wet my lips with my tongue. It’s a subconscious move. But one that brings those eyes of his to my mouth.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
Shivers send goose bumps racing over my heated skin.
It’s not the first time I have had a man say those words to me. I have heard them many times in the past. But coming from Jack, it feels different. It feels like he means me. The whole of me. Not just the way I look.
His hand is moving at his side. Fingers shifting restlessly, like they’re desperate to touch me. “You know I like you, Audrey. I’ve made no secret of that fact. The question is … do you like me?”
I do.
I shouldn’t, but I do.
I look away from him, trying to sort my tangled thoughts.
“Don’t do that.” His fingers touch my chin. He gently turns my head, bringing my eyes back to his. “Stay with me.”
My heart is beating wildly inside my chest, a feeling of fight-or-flight starting. Both sound like a good option, to be honest.
But because I’m an idiot, I do neither.
I just sit here, staring at him.
“What do you want from me, Jack?” I manage to speak words. The only ones I can come up with. And they sound like a plea.
“Anything. Everything.” His eyes flicker down to my lips again. “To know if you taste as good as I think you do.”
Holy fuck.
Everything inside of me tightens. How am I supposed to recover from those words?
My hands grip the sofa. I’m desperately trying to anchor myself. “We’re friends,” I croak.
I am trying to fight this. I’m doing a shitty job. But at least I’m trying.
“I thought you didn’t have friends,” he says, reminding me of my words to him from that day in the supermarket. And he’s not being cruel or sarcastic. He’s just being Jack. Laying it all out so simply.
I swallow down. “I don’t.”
His thumb traces a path down my throat, stopping at the hollow of my neck. His fingers curl around my nape.
Adrenaline is running through my body. Making my heart beat faster and my pulse race.
“So, what are we, Audrey?”
“Neighbors?” It sounds like a question.
The light in his eyes dims a little, and he lets out a sound of disappointment.
“Neighbors,” he echoes, nodding.
Then, he steps back, his hand leaving my neck.
And I feel cold. Bereft.
I watch him walk over to Eleven and pick her up. Then, he heads straight for the door.
He opens it but glances back at me. “Thanks for watching Eleven, neighbor.”
Then, he shuts the door behind him.
And I’m still sitting here, in the exact same spot he left me.
Fuck!
I know this is the right thing. Letting him go. Not letting whatever was about to happen between us happen.
I made my choices a long time ago, and I need to keep sticking with them.
But …
I could just sleep with him once and then be done.
Yeah, because screwing your neighbor once and then ignoring him is a good idea, said no one ever.
But …
For fuck’s sake!
I’m tired of fighting myself on this. Fighting wanting him.
What’s the worst thing that could happen?
I’ll get some orgasms, and then we’ll never speak again.
Fine!
All rational thought has left me by this point. I’m solely working off emotions right now. A whole fucking mix of them. Want, need, frustration, confusion, and a ton of anger.
I’m angry with myself for being so weak. And I’m pissed at him for making me want him.
Screw it all to hell!
I’m storming out of my apartment and stomping my way over to his before I can even give it another thought.
I bang my fist on his door.
It swings open a few seconds later.
He looks like he’s going to say something, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.
I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Look, Jack, I don’t
