Under My Umbrella (Fated 1)

“After you,” Brett offered as he held the door open for her.

He was a gentleman. She had to give him that, she thought as she walked inside the lobby of her apartment building. Gentlemen weren’t serial killers or rapists, right? Though that MO would probably work best in getting what he wanted…

“Thanks,” she said, pushing all thoughts of serial killers and rapists out of her thoughts. She needed to focus on the man.

The man who approached her with an easy grace, his smile friendly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, which indicated he smiled big and often.

She liked that smile. She wanted to see more of it.

Pronto.

Brett felt like a stalker who finally obtained his prize.

He wasn’t a stalker, hell no. He’d noticed his hot neighbor a few weeks ago and had been lucky to see her here and there ever since. She was cute. No, more than cute, she was beautiful with light brown, wavy hair and perfect skin and a figure that wouldn’t stop.

A figure he wanted to get his hands on. Literally and soon.

He’d caught her looking earlier. While he’d tried to keep himself dry from the rain and failed, and he couldn’t believe his good luck. When she offered her umbrella after his not-so-subtle urgings, he’d been surprised. When she’d asked him to come up to her apartment, he thought he’d hit the jackpot.

When was the last time he’d spent quality time with a gorgeous woman anyway? He honestly couldn’t remember. Work consumed him, even with the crappy storms they’d been having. Of course, fires never stopped even in wet and dreary weather so he was busy.

Too busy, his friends accused him of more than once. They really had nothing to say about it since they were just as busy as he was. But they also had girlfriends or wives, women who took care of them, fought with them, loved with them.

He was jealous. And he’d felt more than a little lonely lately. Nothing a hot neighbor couldn’t solve, at least temporarily.

If she was willing, that is.

Following her up the stairs, he admired the sway of her hips, wished like crazy that her coat wasn’t so long. Couldn’t wait for her to shed it once they got inside her place.

“I live on the second floor. That’s why I don’t take the elevator.” She flashed him an apologetic expression over her shoulder. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” He ran a lot to ease the stress, clear his mind. A couple of flights of stairs weren’t going to kill him.

They came upon the door that led to her floor, and he opened it, allowed her to enter first. Her scent tickled his nostrils as she walked by, and he breathed deep, wishing he could inhale it. She smelled sweet, her fragrance reminding him of baking cookies or something.

He certainly never thought baking sexy. But he could always be swayed.

She stopped at apartment number 224 and withdrew her keys from her pocket, sliding the key into the lock with shaky fingers. It took a couple of jerks and a few mutterings under her breath, but she finally got it open and walked inside, glancing over her shoulder yet again to make sure he followed.

As if he wouldn’t. He felt like a dog excited by its new owner. He wanted to slobber at her feet and beg for a treat.

The treat being those delectable lips of hers. Or maybe he could get his hands on her waist, slide his palms up her sides until he was cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples…

Brett shook his head. He was getting way ahead of himself, and his semi-hard cock was going to pay the price of major discomfort if he didn’t knock it off.

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” she apologized as she darted about the room, picking up a stack of magazines from the couch and dumping them onto the coffee table. She grabbed a couple of satiny brown pillows from the floor and tossed them back onto the khaki suede couch.

The place appeared tidy to him, but he was a bachelor. When he wasn’t spending time at his barely furnished apartment, he was living with a bunch of slobs for men and one poor woman who was unfortunately stuck with the slobs.

“Looks good to me. I

like it,” he said as he glanced around.

The living room was furnished tastefully, the colors subtle neutrals and browns. The large picture window overlooked the street framed by shimmery brown curtains, and he caught a flash of lightning in the dark clouded sky.

“The storm’s getting worse,” she said, her tone worried.

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack close to the door. Watched with an appreciative gaze as she did the same.