Look At Me. Cara Lockwood

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СКАЧАТЬ who was that woman? Girlfriend? Escort? She wasn’t sure which would be worse. She didn’t like the idea of him having a girlfriend, an intimate, loving relationship, but she also didn’t like the idea of him paying for sex, either. She heard a door slam in the alley and curiosity got the better of her. She jostled the curtain a centimeter and peered down. The woman he’d just had sex with slipped into an Uber waiting in the alley.

      Definitely not a girlfriend, she thought. Then...what?

      Chloe thought about the man in his big three-story building all by himself, sated now, maybe even still naked. Maybe rinsing off in the shower. For a split second, a crazy thought ran through her head...what if I went over? Rang his doorbell?

      Instantly, she dismissed the thought. Really? She was going to...what? Tell him she was sorry for spying? Or ask him to do exactly what he’d just done to that woman to her?

      Her inner thighs tingled at the thought. Heat rose in her abdomen again. She’d only just taken care of that. Hadn’t she? Yet, was she wanting this again? So soon? Just the thought of seeing Jackson made her wet.

      No. He’d think she was crazy. Wouldn’t he?

      After she watched the Uber drive away, she glanced back up at the new neighbor’s windows. She didn’t see him, and figured he’d moved to his room, though his blinds were still wide-open. Maybe he’d forget about the whole thing. Maybe he’d pretend it never happened. Maybe that was what she should do as well.

      Then she saw him return with a bar of white soap in his hand and a small bowl of water. What was he...? She hid once more as he came to the windows. The idea of him seeing her spying more made her face flame with embarrassment. She waited for a few minutes, breathing hard.

      Go to bed, Chloe, she told herself. What are you even doing?

      She waited a few more moments that felt like hours. Should she look? Once more? What was he doing with that bar of soap?

      Chloe peeked around the curtain, leaving just enough space for one eye. The living room was now empty. No sign of Jackson.

      But he’d used the soap to write a message on his window. It was big enough for her to read.

       Next time, want to do more than watch?

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