Detective Paul Jensen has the hots for his downstairs neighbor. After barging into her place wearing nothing but leopard-print underwear to save her from a would-be attacker, he might just get his chance with her.
Ever since her good-for-nothing husband ran off with a woman half her age, Celeste Kolowski emotionally shut down. But now, sexier-than-sin Paul from upstairs offers the one thing she's craving—a night of passion. He's too young, too handsome, too experienced, and her adult daughters have a crush on him. So why does her heart tell her to jump in and see what happens anyway?
“I’m too old to get laid.” With that pronouncement, she stood up, picked up her mug, and moved into the kitchen.
“Wait a second.” He shoved up off the couch and followed her. “What exactly do you mean by that?” She was a vibrant woman, and he’d wanted to have sex with her for the last five years. Sure, she was a little older than him, but damn, she was fucking hot.
After setting her cup in the sink, she tugged her lapels closer together and crossed her arms over her chest. She met his gaze straight on when she said, “It’s been eight years since my husband of twenty years left me for a girl barely older than our daughters. Sometimes I get lonely. I thought I could just have some casual sex and a little companionship for a night. But once he was here, this...this stranger, I couldn’t do it.”
Paul’s heart melted. Completely. A puddle in his chest. But he didn’t expect the words that came out of his mouth. “If that’s what you wanted, you could have come upstairs anytime.”
Celeste’s mouth dropped open, but then she snapped it shut so fast her teeth clicked. “Excuse me?”
Open mouth. Insert foot. Well, now that he’d started it, he might as well finish it. “I’ve thought about you. I’ve thought about having sex with you. A lot.”
“Oh, for crying out—” She shook her head. “You have young, gorgeous women in and out of your place constantly. As if you’d sit around thinking about your much older neighbor in a romantic way.”
He did think about her in a romantic way. Constantly. And... He scowled. “I haven’t had a woman in my apartment in several months.”
She tipped her head to the side, and the smile she gave was fake and...condescending. “Come on now, Paul. These apartments aren’t exactly soundproof. I know you have a healthy sex life.”
“And because of the lack of soundproofing, I know you fly solo way too often.”
* * * * *
Celeste’s face went hot. He’d heard her... Oh, Lord. She would not let him know how embarrassed she was. “What are you, some kind of pervert?”
His left eyebrow rose in censure. He had a point. She’d said she heard him with women. There was no way she’d ever admit to getting turned on when she listened. Sometimes using her vibrator to finish right along with them. Wishing she were that woman under him—over him—getting taken hard and fast from behind. She’d spent hour upon hour fantasizing what Paul would be like in bed. Which was just one more reason to never, ever go there. No way in hell he’d ever live up to her dreams.
“You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?” he asked, stepping closer.
She shook her head in denial, but breathing became difficult. Her pussy throbbed, and her gaze dropped to that sexy chest and abdomen. Why hadn’t the man put on a shirt?
“Yes, you are. Did it turn you on to listen to me have sex? Every time I hear your drawer open and the soft buzz of your toy, I get hard as a rock.”
She really needed to oil that nightstand drawer. It made a horrible screech when opened.
He stepped up close enough that his musky scent, mixed with the subtle scent of aged leather from his jacket, engulfed her. Her eyelids fluttered as she breathed in with appreciation. The man took care of himself. He was always clean, smelled like sin. And he wore snug, faded jeans that cupped everything just so and made her want to grab him and...take a bite.
She licked her lips as she watched his rippled abs. She wanted to know what they felt like. So vibrantly alive. She looked up into his dark eyes. The only men she touched were in the ER. Injured, sick... Paul was... Her eyelids fluttered as he stepped even closer, until his chest was right there, and she had to tip her head way back to see into his face.
“You have thought about it, haven’t you, Celeste?”
She nodded. Why deny it? He’d know she was lying anyway.
A small, sexy grin spread over his face, making his eyes sparkle. He leaned forward, and she held her breath, waiting for him to kiss her. Instead, his cheek brushed hers, and his lips tickled her ear when he said, “I’ve thought of coming down here and helping you out some nights.”
She shivered, his warm breath tickling.
“I’ve thought of taking that damn vibrator out of your hand and replacing it with my mouth, my tongue.” His tongue flicked out and traced the shell of her ear, yet he touched her nowhere else.
She bit her lip to keep in a whimper. Her nipples tightened and ached. Her pussy clenched and heated as arousal spiked through her.
He raised his hands, and she expected him to haul her up against him. Instead, he cupped her cheek with one and the back of her head with the other. So gentle. So...sweet. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. Still touching her cheek with one, his other hand came down to her neck. His skin was just the tiniest bit rough. It felt good. Too good.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Inside and out. I’ve wanted to be with you since the day you moved in and refused my help. You were so stubborn.” He grinned. “Box after box after box I watched you haul in from your car, but when I tried taking one from you, you almost bit my head off.”
She dropped her gaze to his chest. She’d been embarrassed then that she found him so attractive. A guy who was at least a decade younger than her. She’d just wanted him to go away and stay away. She’d still been hurting so bad.
He was still too young.
“I’m almost forty-seven years old.”
His smile was soft and sweet. “What’s your point?”
She knew she should pull away, but his hands were so warm. Being touched was just too nice. It had been so long. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “The point is, there is no point behind this. You should find one of your cute young women and have some fun.”
Lord, the words hurt to say. She pulled away and brushed passed him, getting out from between him and the counter. She went back to the couch and curled into the corner. “I think you should go. Now.”
As she stared at her hands folded in her lap, his thighs came into view as he stood over her. Thick, beautiful thighs she’d seen last summer in a pair of shorts, and she’d thought about licking them. She looked up a bit, and there was no mistaking the thick ridge trapped in his jeans. Good Lord, he was long. Her pussy pulsed as if begging.
Please, please, please, Celee. Let me have him.
He went down on his knees in front of her. She wanted to touch his chest, dig her fingers into his pecs, learn if those whorls of hair were as silky soft as they looked. Instead, she fisted her hands and looked into his eyes. Mistake. She could drown there. They were as black as night, as deep as the ocean.
“One kiss,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Let me have one kiss, and if you still want me to go, I will, and we can forget all about this.”
She wasn’t going to forget. Tonight’s encounter with Paul would fuel her fantasies for months—possibly years—to come. What more harm could one kiss do? She’d always wondered what he’d taste like, since he smelled like heaven.
Wetting her lips with her tongue, she nodded. “One kiss.”