The Cock Next Door(3)

He was wearing gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and a white t-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest. The dark ink on his arms looked entirely too delicious for this early in the morning. The man had 'fuckboy' written all over him, and judging by the vocal performance I'd overheard last night, he definitely earned the title.

It was seven in the morning, and Nick looked like he’d been awake and thriving for hours.

He smiled as I approached, handing me a freshly brewed cup before I could even reach for a mug.

"You look like you need this more than I do," he murmured, his voice still carrying that low, morning rasp.

"I was up late." I muttered, taking a sip. “Couldn't sleep with all the…noise.“ I hope he didn't think I was intentionally listening in on them. He’d probably think I'm some kind of freak.

Nick paused, a suddenly guilty, sheepish look crossing his handsome features. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. "Oh. Did I disturb you? I guess things got a little out of hand. Sorry about that, Annie. It won't happen again."

"No, it's fine," I lied smoothly, trying to ignore the way my core tightened just remembering what I'd done while listening to him. "I needed to get some writing work done anyway."

He leaned his heavy shoulder against the wall, sipping his coffee while his silver eyes thoroughly studied my face. "What do you do?"

"I write books," I said. An eyebrow lifted, his interest clearly piqued. "An author? That's Impressive. What kind?"

I stared into my cup, definitely not wanting him to know what kind of books I wrote. "Romance."

"Romance?" A slow smirk spread across his lips. "I read a bit of everything too, though I'm usually a mystery guy. Do you write smut?"

I almost choked on my coffee, as I felt my face turned bright red. "Sometimes," I managed to say, desperately wishing the floor would swallow me whole. Why would he suddenly ask me that?

I’d love to read one of your stories sometime," he murmured, his voice dropping into that dark, suggestive tone from my fantasies. He began to step back toward his apartment door. "Don't forget what I said. If you need anything at all, just come over. See you later, love.”

He headed back to his apartment and I stood there like a statue, watching the way his gray sweatpants sat perfectly on his hips until his door finally clicked shut.

.........

By Saturday night I had half a chapter and a problem.

The problem was Celeste's love interest whom I'd introduced in book one as dark haired and sharp featured which a very specific appearance I'd had for three novels running. Somehow between Tuesday and Saturday he had become blond.

I sat back and read over what I'd written. I realized that I’d unconsciously written the male lead as Nick. Feeling frustrated, I texted Kayla. 'I accidentally based my book's love interest on my neighbor."

She replied in four seconds: “ANNIE. YOU NEED TO FUCK HIM!"

Shaking my head, I locked my phone and tossed it onto the mattress. The building was completely quiet tonight, and the silence made me feel strangely restless. I adjusted my pillow, getting ready to close my laptop, when I saw a sudden flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.

What the hell?

I watched in horror as a massive swarm of tiny, crawling bedbugs swarmed out from the mattress, scattering across the white sheets. I scrambled out of the bed so fast I knocked my laptop straight onto the floor. I slapped every single light switch on, my skin crawling with pure violation. The old mattress the landlord provided was completely infested.

"No. No no no–"

I picked up my phone and called the landlord. He picked up on the fifth ring sounding deeply unbothered for a man whose building had an active infestation.

That's what I get for paying so cheap. I knew this place was too good to be true.

"The exterminator will be there tomorrow morning at nine." he said sleepily. "You need to vacate the bedroom immediately. Sleep on the kitchen floor or leave the building."

"It's midnight!" I hissed. I didn't have time for this shit. I just wanted to sleep.

"Yes, ma'am," was all he said and I wished I could reach into the phone and strangle him. He then hung up right in my face and I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room in my pajama shorts and loose tank top.

I looked at the wall that separated my apartment from Nick's. “Absolutely not.” I thought but I didn't think I had another choice anyways.

I picked up my overnight bag anyway.

I stood outside his door for a full sixty seconds before I finally gathered the courage to knock. A few moments later, the door opened and Nick stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but black sweatpants. His hair was beautifully messy, and his light blue eyes looked heavy with sleep. He looked incredibly large and dangerous in the dim hallway light. The tattoos were everywhere on his chest, ribs, stomach.

"Annie?" his voice was a deep, groggy rumble.

"I... I have an active bedbug infestation." I choked out, holding up my overnight bag like a shield. "I am so sorry it's late, but the super told me to vacate and I didn't know where else to go..

Nick looked at my trembling lips, then down at my bare legs, I didn't fail to notice the brief expression that came over his face as he stepped back.

"Come inside." he commanded softly.