Sneaking a Peek (2 page)

These weekly indulgences were her reward for keeping her feelings in check. If Ethan was off limits, at least she could enjoy the show. In all honesty, she wouldn’t know how to stop even if she wanted to. The sight of his addictive body held her entranced. At first she had willed herself to stay away, to keep the doors locked and curtains shut. Her self-control had lasted five minutes. Now, it was an event she catered for with wine, crackers, exotic cheeses, and a big bucket of drool.

“Yeah, I know. What Jenna doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Tarney had been playing the laid-back neighbor role since she moved in next to Ethan. Who would have guessed that the first house she fell in love with after returning from college would be the one beside his? Either she was one lucky lady to have her high school crush living next door, or fate was one teasing bitch.

Leaning her seat back on the hind legs of her chair, she tried to see into the far corner of his room, still mentally cursing Kristen’s interruption. She’d only needed two minutes more to finish her self-service.

Ethan disappeared. If only he had floor to ceiling windows. The downside of the muscle-mania show was the limited view. If he did exercises on the ground, she pretended to stretch her legs and stand up to see. When he did weights at the front of the room—like now—she leaned backward to watch.

“So what’s he doing? Come on, I need the visual.”

Tarney leaned back farther, testing the laws of gravity, trying to see him on the bench press. She moved her feet to the porch railing, balancing the chair and wineglass while keeping a tight hold on the phone.

“Umm, he’s on the bench press, lifting that bar thingy with the big round weights on the ends.”

Damn, this was the part of his workout she loved to hate. His pecs and arms were her favorite muscled areas. The problem was the restricted view. She lifted her chin, tilting her head at an angle to see better. His face was taut with strain, shiny and red from exertion, the same way he probably looked when he blew his load.

Her body hummed to life again, her core convulsing with the need to be filled. What she wouldn’t give to be his towel girl, to slowly wipe each bead of sweat off his lovely body…with her tongue.

“He’s ah…” she leaned a little farther back, “he’s—”

Her scream pierced the night as gravity decided to bite her in the ass. Ethan’s head snapped up, and she swore their gazes met. Dropping the phone, she grasped frantically for the chair arm, trying to stabilize herself.

Too late.

She fell backward, and the shrill noise continued to leave her throat. The sound of smashing glass registered seconds before her head hit the hard floor, snapping her jaw shut with a jarring thud. She groaned through the pain of impact and cursed under her breath. A burning sensation in the back of her hand also demanded attention.

Damn it.

Her ears began to ring, the screaming sound increasing along with the throb of her brain. The inside of her head hissed like television static only high-pitched and annoying as hell. The crack of a door slamming in the distance gave her a slight sense of relief. At least she wasn’t deaf.

Tarney laid there, the wood of the chair digging into her back. She closed her eyes, her heavy muscles refusing to move, and resigned herself to lying there a little longer. Her own defeated exhale barely registered over the bells ringing through her head as she relaxed her limbs and opened her eyes.

“Holy shit,” she squeaked.

Her heart stopped dead. Ethan’s large body overshadowed her porch, his face looming above her. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

“You OK, Tar?” His words broke between gasps.

She lay in silence, blinking at him like a stunned mute while she took pleasure in the close up view. The distant light from his room and the street lamps gave his masculine features a devilish appeal. The darkness made his stubble-covered jaw all the more alluring.

Fierce with concern, he frowned down at her and in a panic, crouched on the wooden deck. His firm hands traveled over her arms, her hips, her thighs. She wanted to moan, to move into his touch, but instead she ground her teeth together, hoping they didn’t break.

“Can you move?” His tone made her nipples tighten harder than before, their demand to be brushed almost painful. And dear Lord his gaze dropped. Ethan was staring at her chest, a confused expression marring his brow.

Here he was playing the role of rescuer, checking for spinal injuries, and her mind wouldn’t divert from the image of his fingers slipping between her thighs, moving her panties aside, and sinking deep. She wanted that orgasm, damn it. Her body was so heated she could even smell her own arousal in the air. She prayed Ethan hadn’t noticed too.

Her brain may be pounding, but it sure wasn’t broken. She wasn’t damaged enough to ignore the naked skin stretched tight across his chest. The proximity of all that exposed flesh made her heart jump, the pulse deep and throbbing all the way up her throat.

She groaned in response to his question and pushed against the wood flooring. His fingers slid under her neck, the warm touch sending a shiver through her, slowly dissolving her aches and pains. The smooth mounds of his pecs rippled in front of her face, taunting her while he lifted her chair, placing it in the upright position.

Sweet mother
.

Would it be wrong to place her hand on his hard chest? To stabilize herself, of course. Not for any other reason.

He gripped her knees, holding her steady. “What the hell happened?”

Warmth flooded her cheeks as she self-consciously glanced out the corner of her eye toward his window, then back to the waistband of her shorts to make sure they were sitting properly. Hopefully he wouldn’t figure out what she’d been doing.

With shame she fought to hide, Tarney focused back on Ethan. Unfortunately his gaze had already begun following where hers had just been, to the window, then her shorts, and when he looked up at her, his eyes gleamed with understanding.

A smirk settled across his lips. “I see.”

Embarrassment firmly grabbed her by the short and curlies under his appraisal. “No!”

She should have played dumb, acting as though she didn’t have a clue what he referred to, but her brain throbbed too much to think clearly. She shook her head, adamant, then immediately regretted the action. “I was talking on the phone and lost balance.”

He raised his eyebrows before turning his gaze to search the porch deck. She heard Kristen’s distant voice coming from the phone. If only her vision would focus back to twenty-twenty, she would be able to see it.

Ethan found the small cell first, picking it up from its position a few feet away. Before she formed a protest, he lifted it to his ear. “Hey, hey, settle down,” he ordered. “She’s fine.” He paused. “From what I can gather, she fell backward on her stable four-legged chair.”

Tarney suppressed a groan over his taunting smile. With the limited light, his dark blue eyes seemed almost black, their mesmerizing depths hypnotizing her—or maybe that was just a concussion.

He studied her face while he listened to whatever Kristen had to say. “Yeah, I have a fair idea of what happened.” His gaze strayed back to his exercise room, and he fell silent again, his breathing now steadier. “Yep, I’ll be sure to look after her, don’t worry… Bye.”

Without consulting her first, Ethan ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket. “How ’bout we get you inside so I can check you over.”

Tarney averted her gaze, guilt and shame making her cringe. The perverted neighbor game wasn’t fun when you were caught red…er…sticky fingered in her case.

She didn’t bother answering him as she gripped the chair arms and stood. A slice of fire shot through her foot and she fell back into the seat, hissing in pain. She clutched around the burning area, trying to find the glass embedded in her sole.

“Shit,” Ethan cursed. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“My wineglass.” She waved her hand at the mess. “It smashed when I fell.”

Wow, not only a voyeur, now she was completely devoid of intellectual conversation as well. Thank goodness he had his sneakers on. She would never forgive herself if Ethan hurt himself because of her depravity.

He didn’t give her time to pretend or object before he placed an arm under her knees, the other behind her back. With effortless determination, he lifted her and strode toward the front door. She should have protested or at least given a lackluster complaint at being man handled, but there was no point. Ethan probably knew she wanted to cling to him like a little monkey. If it weren’t for the whole best-friend’s-brother situation, she would have made her interest known a hell of a long time ago. Now, she would keep her mouth shut and enjoy the ride while it lasted.

As they approached the door, Tarney reached out and turned the handle, then flicked on the living room light. The sudden brightness forced her eyes closed, and instinctively she tilted her face into his chest to darken the onslaught—or that’s what she told herself.

She should have been grossed out by the stickiness of his skin, but her desire to nuzzle further into him was more distressing. Was she really that desperate? She supposed she always had been for Ethan. Even though ten years had passed since their one chaste kiss, he still sat at the top of her spank bank.

And boy did he smell good. After a twelve-hour shift at the fire station and a steamy work out, he still smelled intoxicating. If she wasn’t mistaken, he actually wore the aftershave she’d given him for his thirtieth birthday. The combination of citrus, sandalwood, ash, and sweat made her close her eyes in pleasure and take another deep breath.

He walked into the kitchen, placed her on the counter, and flipped on the light.

“Okay, let me give you a thorough once over,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. Or had she just imagined that? Damn, his near nakedness was forcing her to lose focus. “Shit, your hand’s bleeding too.”

As she lifted her hand, he clutched it in both his palms and leaned in closer to inspect the scratches. The feel of his calluses and the proximity of his kissable lips made her giddy. Any normal person would have been concerned with the tiny pieces of glass embedded in their flesh, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

The rough pad of his thumb trailed over the back of her hand while he tilted it from side to side. The caress tickled her sensitive skin, heating her blood, making her draw in a shallow breath.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, glancing back at her face.

“No.” She shook her head and wondered if lying would have been better.

He kept eye contact as his thumb continued to stroke her hand, the action now a deliberate caress. He stepped closer and she had to bite her lip to remain calm. His hip rubbed against her thigh. Her teeth sunk harder with every loving touch, their gaze connected the entire time. She fought not to look away, unwilling to show weakness and give him any hint of her feelings, but a slow smile tilted his lips.

“Does it hurt now?” he asked, his tone rough and seductive.

“No.” She shook her head again and sighed, trying to pretend his touch didn’t make her uncomfortably wet.

He grinned. “So…what’s with the heavy breathing?”

Tarney’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt and said the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t like blood. And I’m frustrated. I didn’t want to be rude by telling you to cut the Doogie Howser routine, but since you’re being a smart ass, can you hurry the hell up so I can get back to my relaxing evening?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded in mock understanding. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were in a rush to get back to what you were doing.” He switched his gaze back to her hand and his lips began to twitch in what she suspected was suppressed laughter. “So what’s so exciting about sitting in the dark and drinking by yourself?”

She glared at his downcast eyes and his cheeks lifted, his smile widening.

“It relaxes me,” she said. The bastard knew she’d been spying, but she would die before admitting it. “Can’t you just slap a Band-Aid on and be done with it?”

“Yes ma’am. Are they in your bathroom?”

Tarney opened her mouth to say yes
,
but thought better of it. He may have been in her house on more occasions than she remembered, but in her irrational mood she didn’t want him spying through all her medicines and girlie stuff. She already felt naked and exposed. She didn’t need him to put on a damn Band-Aid. He was only prolonging the process to draw out her embarrassment.

“Forget it,” she grumbled, pushing off the counter.

Her toes were about to touch the floor when he lunged forward in panic. “Wait!”

The warning came too late. She’d already stepped down on the glass in the bottom of her foot. Her knees buckled from the sudden pain. Before she fell to the floor, he gripped her arms and hauled her up.

“Fuck, Tarney, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

He placed her back on the counter, and she pulled her foot to her lap, turning it over to examine the cause of the pain. The glass didn’t seem very big, only a quarter of an inch wide. She would have expected the mother trucker to be the size of a small dog from the agony it caused. Maybe it was long and thin and embedded half way through her foot.

“Don’t touch it, I’ll be back in a sec,” he ordered and sprinted for the front door.

Less than five minutes later, he returned, arms full of supplies and a sleeveless Rangers jersey covering all that sinful flesh.

“Let me look at it,” he demanded, grabbing her foot in his hand.

The time alone had done nothing to soothe her wounded pride, so like an indignant child she drew her foot back. It may be a big joke for him to have women fawning over him twenty-four seven, but unrequited lust wasn’t all that enjoyable for the loser in the situation. There was only so much self-love she could partake in before it became depressing. She fixed him with a death stare in an attempt to release some frustration.

“Look, I said I’m sorry,” he added. His gaze caught hers, pleading, and she wanted to believe him.

Tarney scrutinized him, her heart becoming a traitorous bitch as it started to flutter. With a huff she relaxed her foot into the warmth of his hands. He knelt on the floor to take a better look, caressing her ankle, his fingers making small circles over her skin, which felt entirely sexual. If he didn’t stop soon, she would end up sliding off the counter in her own wet puddle.