Page 573 of Summer Heat
She’s now accessed it so many times my building security doesn’t even bother to check with me after she codes in anymore. They assure me that they watch her on their monitors until I let her in though.
Mostly for non-security reasons, I’m sure.
Meaning they’re probably zoomed in on her heaving chest right now.
I cut a dark look up at the snowglobe surveillance cam bolted to the ceiling near the elevator and almost crack a grin when the electronic eyeball instantly whirs into motion, jerking to a new vantage angle as far away from my front door as possible.
Miracle of miracles, at least tonight she’s got on something other than those white button-down men’s shirts she wears to sleep—and more often than not, goes down to the lobby to sign for UPS deliveries in…sans anything underneath but panties.
I know for a fact that my security guards used to love calling her down for deliveries as late as they could, hoping like a bunch of pervs that she’d come down without remembering to throw on a pair of shorts first.
Firing two otherwise reliable security guards for ogling her ass as she struggled with some boxes is probably the reason why none of my workers enjoy getting deliveries for her anymore.
So yeah, in comparison, the yoga pants and loose tank-top showing most of her sports bra is a marked improvement. Sort of. As long as she doesn’t turn sideways and inadvertently flash me that tiny little, distractingly sexy birthmark on her—
Hell. Too late.
Distractingly. Sexy.
The woman’s killing me.
Normally, I’m not the kind of man who would even consider blurring the line between tenant and landlord or boss and employee, but Summer is a goddamn walking temptation. And if she were even remotely aware that her nipples were poking through the thin fabric of her bra and saying hi to me right now, I’d be pissed as hell that she was making me rethink my own rules.
“Summer,” I finally manage to grit out in a barely civil growl. “It’s two in the friggin’ morning. Can’t it wait until at least sunrise for a change?”
She frowns in that cute, confused way she does when she realizes the rest of the city is sleeping like she should be. “Oh. Sorry, boss. I guess I can come back in a few hours—”
I close the door before she can say the “but” I hear waiting in the wings, hoping like hell she won’t take the “sunrise” suggestion literally.
2
| JASON |
MONDAY
(Time: 4:21 a.m.)
I head to the front door and pull it open midway through her second round of knocks.
She’s standing on the doorstep, fresh-faced and bright-eyed. Almost impossibly chipper. Chased of course with her usual dose of excessive and usually unnecessary worry over whatever is racing through her thoughts right now.
“’Morning, boss.” She flashes me a hasty but genuine smile and promptly hands me a large paper cup of what smells more like sugary liquefied hazelnut than coffee. Where on earth she went to get fancy coffee to go at this hour, I don’t even want to know. I’ll check with my security folks later. For now, I take the cup and leave it on the table in the foyer. I’m not ready for coffee. I’m not even dressed.
She steps over the threshold, grabbing the abandoned cup to take a quick gulp—like she needs more caffeine—before she says in a rush, “So I had some things to run by you.”
Maybe it’s because she pulls out an unbelievably over-stuffed folder—one of many in her bag—or and maybe it’s because she did take me literally on the sunrise thing, but I feel perfectly justified in reaching out to put a hand over her mouth to stop her from overloading me with information before my brain has had a chance to wake up.
Her eyes widen the instant my skin touches hers.
Great. At the sound of her breath catching softly in surprise, every muscle in my body is tensed up and ready to go. Now all I can think about is drawing that same gasp from her again, preferably along with my name, as I plunge hard and deep into her wet little—
The way her eyes shoot down south grabs my attention, and I notice she’s looking at the front of the sweatpants I’d had to start wearing to bed after the crazy little insomniac began these invasions of my private sanctuary.
Sure, I’d normally have concealed my morning wood better, but I’m in my own goddamn home, and I’m not some kid who needs to hide the fact that my cock is rock hard from thinking about a beautiful woman.
I am curious about her reaction though.
She’s staring at my hard-on as if I’m some kind of alien who just showed her a third eyeball. As if she’s noticing for the first time ever that I’m a man and she’s a woman. As if she’s never had a man react to her this way before.
