He could almost sense her taking a deep breath, building up her nerve. Then, as if putting a needle to a record, the slightly muted sound of her voice leaked through the walls. A low, haunting melody filled his ears, and he involuntarily closed his eyes so that he wouldn’t miss any of it. He couldn’t pick out the words, but it was vaguely familiar, something he’d heard before. And it was beautiful, her voice strong and unbroken, a sound befitting the nickname he’d given her—angel.
And he kn
ew this was supposed to be putting him to sleep, soothing him. But instead, he felt his body prickling with each note, awareness brewing in his nerve endings as her voice strummed through him, stroking his senses. He could picture her there, sitting up in bed, wearing probably next to nothing because it had to be hot in her room as well, and belting out that song. A song that, though he couldn’t hear the lyrics, spoke of longing and need. Loneliness.
Those feelings bled through him, mirroring his own, and tightness built in his chest—like rope being wrapped around him and cinched. His body went unbearably hot. Too much more and she was going to drive him to middle-of-the-night madness. The sexy, throaty sound of her last notes drifted through the barrier between them, and he reached up to press his palm against the wall, feeling the faint vibration of her words.
When all had gone silent again, he opened his eyes and took a breath before lifting his phone again.
That was beautiful, Cela. *in awe*
Thx. Did it make u sleepy?
It made me hard. But of course he wasn’t going to type that.
Yes.
Liar.
He ran his thumb along the side of the phone, knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to stop himself.
Ur right. It made me want you.
Full minutes passed as he stared at the screen. She wasn’t going to respond. He’d given her the cold shoulder two days ago and now was making a pass at her. He was a fucking dick. He was about to type back an apology when his phone dinged.
I’ve heard that’s good for sleep too.
He rubbed a hand over his face and climbed out of bed with a groan—paced. But his good sense and self-control had left the building fifteen minutes ago. Hell, who was he kidding? Those two things hadn’t been around since the moment he’d invited Cela over to their apartment. The girl undid him.
There was a soft tap from her side. He stopped at the spot on the wall where it’d come from and leaned his head against it, imagining her mirroring him on the other side, staring back at him with as much longing as he knew resided in his eyes right now. He lifted his phone.
Invite me over, Cela.
Another long stretch of a pause, then:
Isn’t that against one-night-stand rules?
I’m good at making rules not following them.
His phone sat silent. He rolled to the side until his bare back was against the wall. His heart was thumping hard against his ribs, everything in him willing her to respond. He had no idea what had gotten into him. It was like being a fucking teenager all over again, waiting for the girl he liked to call him back. This wasn’t his style. But all he knew was that one time with Cela hadn’t been enough. This was a bad idea. A selfish one.
What the hell was he planning to do with her anyway? He wasn’t even sure he remembered how to have vanilla sex.
His phone dinged.
I don’t want to follow them either.
He tossed the phone on the bed.
—
This was stupid. I was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
What in the hell had made me think texting Foster tonight was a good idea? I’d lain in bed for over an hour, listening to that incessant fan noise through the wall, unable to sleep because I couldn’t stop replaying Friday night. The way Foster had talked to me, how he’d felt against me, the sensations he’d coaxed out of my body. I’d lived my whole damn life without having sex, and now I’d had it once and couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.
And freaking hell—if I wasn’t mistaken, I’d just made a midnight booty text. I flipped my phone in my hand over and over again as I walked the perimeter of my apartment. It’d been at least ten minutes since I’d sent the last text. I’d managed to brush my teeth and pull on a pair of boxer shorts to pair with my SPCA charity walk T-shirt, but that was about as much prep as I could manage. Some seductress I’d make.
And this was a terrible idea on so many levels. First, I was sending the message to Foster that I was the kind of girl who’d make late-night hookup calls. And second, I’d already been struggling with my feelings about Friday night. Touching him again was only going to make it worse. But I couldn’t walk away yet. Even when he’d been hauling me away from Gerald, acting like an overbearing tyrant, I’d wanted to freaking melt at his feet.