Josh sighed. “I’ll run to the bodega.”
“Nonsense. Just ask Mrs. Calvin for some. That’s what neighbors are for.”
“Moved out,” Josh said, drinking the last swallow of his coffee. “Wanted to be closer to her family.”
“Well, that’s too bad. She was a nice lady. And deaf, which meant she didn’t have to suffer through the late-night band practice.”
“You too, huh?” he asked, heading toward the bedroom for shoes.
“Me too what?”
“The new girl in 4C’s all in a tizzy because of my music.”
It had been a week since she’d banged on his door, and he’d played his music just a little too loud nearly every night since then in hopes she’d come over for a repeat of that kiss. For a short, shut-her-up kind of kiss, it had been surprisingly hot. He wouldn’t mind a repeat, followed by something a little more naked than kissing.
“A band member’s hardly the ideal neighbor, dear,” his mother said.
“Yeah, she let me know that in no uncertain terms,” he muttered, flashing back to the way the curly-haired firecracker all but ripped him a new one. Hideous, uptight creature.
Hot though. Definitely hot.
Inspiration struck, and Josh halted on his way to the bedroom, instead turning left toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” Sue asked.
“I think you’re right, Mom. Borrowing milk is exactly what neighbors are for.”
Chapter Four
JOSH TANNER’S HANDS WERE all over her, and oh God they were good hands. Brooke and Alexis had been onto something with the hot musician thing, because he played her every bit as well as he played the guitar.
His palms skimmed up her sides, his fingers dragging over her rib cage teasingly before gliding over her breasts, circling her nipples teasingly while he sucked at a deliciously sensitive part of her neck. Heather shifted beneath him, spreading her thighs and moaning in need when he settled between them, rubbing his erection where she was wet and throbbing.
Her hands found his ass, grabbing greedily as she tilted up to him, suddenly aware that they had on too many clothes, aware of—
A rude knocking on her door.
Heather’s eyes snapped open, unsure which was more horrifying. The fact that someone was knocking on her door at seven thirty on a Sunday or the fact that she’d been having a dirty dream about her annoying neighbor.
It was a definite toss-up, but when she rolled out of bed, shuffled grumpily to the front door, and looked out the peephole, it was decided for her:
The neighbor was the more annoying part.
“Are you kidding me with this?” she muttered, resting her forehead against the door.
“Heather, darling, it’s me. 4A.”
As if she could forget the abs. And the face. And the voice. And the hands. The really skilled hands.
Although the abs were covered up today with a T-shirt, she noticed with just the slightest pang of disappointment. A tight, nicely fitting T-shirt, but still. She’d barely gotten over the six-pack hangover from the last time she’d seen her horrible neighbor shirtless.
“What. Do. You. Want.” She didn’t lift her head, much less open the door.
“Are you wearing those cute little pajamas again?” he asked.
“Tell me that’s not why you came over to wake me up.”
“Oh, were you asleep?”
His voice was all innocence, and Heather narrowed her eyes in suspicion, raising her face to the peephole once more, only to squeak in surprise when she saw his eye right there staring back at her.
“Damn it,” she said, jerking the door open so suddenly he nearly fell inside. “Who does that above the age of seven?”
He looked her up and down before a slow grin slid over his face. “Nice.”
Heather couldn’t help taking a quick glance down to affirm no strap had accidentally fallen. Nope. Technically she was covered, but she liked to sleep with her windows open to keep her bedroom cool, which meant she had a little headlight situation happening.
“Can I borrow some milk?” he asked.
She looked back at him. “Milk.”
“Yeah. You know, white, creamy, delicious, comes from teats . . .”
His gaze dropped to her chest again, and Heather cursed, reaching for the gray zippered hoodie on the hook by the door and pulling it around her.