The Last Person

How can one guy have so much physical appeal and potential and then waste it by being bad at sex? This is why I don’t screw men who live in my building. From now until the time that one of us moves out, it will be awkward. He will see me and smile like he’s all that, but I’ll know the truth. And the most I will be able to offer him is a cringe before averting my gaze and running in the opposite direction.

“Fuck!” I wince. “Stop biting my nip—”

Oh. Sweet. Baby. Zebras …

Eric kisses me like God himself stopped by and gave him a tutorial on how to kiss a woman. At least, I assume God would be good at kissing. Things to think about later …

My fingers claim his hair because I will physically do harm to him if he ever stops kissing me. Eric engulfs every inch of me with his body, bringing all of my senses to life as his hips prove that they do know about the special little clit. He hits it just right every time.

Eventually, my lungs demand oxygen as he takes us both to the finish like a goddamn Kentucky Derby winner.

“Eric … fucking … Steinmann!” My mouth rips from his on my victory cry two seconds before he collapses on top of me.

With his head buried in my neck, he chuckles. “You’re welcome.”

I can’t even argue. Nope. Not at all. He earned it. Man … did he ever earn it.

After a few moments, he eases off me and saunters his naked ass to the bathroom. Staring at the clothes on the floor, I question my next move. I mean … I live down the hallway. It’s not like I can say it’s too late to drive home or catch an Uber. Without giving it a second thought, I slide into my capris, tug on my shirt, and gather my undergarments and shoes in my hand before tiptoeing to his front door. I hear the toilet flush as I ease his door open and, just as quietly, shut it behind me before scurrying to my loft. When I turn the corner into my bedroom, the hall light illuminates.

“What do we have here?”

I cringe and pivot toward Freya with her messy red hair, boy shorts, and a black tank top. “Hey.”

Her gaze locks on my arms cradling yellow sandals, a bra, and panties. “Looks like you bolted. Why did you bolt? Poor guy’s going to feel rejected. Seriously … I’ve never seen you home the same night. Did he kick you out? Is he a weird sleeper? OCD? Bed hog? Did you start snoring?”

I roll my eyes. “No to all of the above.”

“The sex was that bad?”

“No. Just…” I shrug “…the opposite.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh … my … god. You like him. Like … like like him. He crawled under your skin, into your panties, and you don’t know what to do, so you left.”

Shaking my head, I turn on my bedroom light and dump my stuff on the floor. “We live in the same building. It just didn’t make sense to stay all night.” After plucking a nightshirt from my dresser, I change tops and shimmy out of my capris.

“So you said goodbye. You didn’t sneak out. Is that what you’re saying?”

“It’s late.” I squeeze past her to the bathroom. “We had sex. It was good. I have to work tomorrow. End of story.” I close the door.

“Are you going to have sex again with him?”

I plop onto the toilet and close my eyes. “No. We live in the same building. It shouldn’t have happened at all, but it did. One and done. Time to move on.”

“Mmm-hmm … whatever. Goodnight.”

Chapter Six

I sneak out the next morning while Freya’s in the shower. Checking the hallway through my door’s peephole first, I make a dash for the stairs when I see the coast is clear.

“Morning, Anna.” My neighbor, Peter, smiles at me as I unlock my bike from the rack.

“Good morning.”

After securing my bag’s crossbody strap over my torso, I start to walk toward the door.

“Eric … fucking … Steinmann!” Peter yells.

I freeze. So does my heart. My breaths. And thankfully my bladder before I wet my pants.

“Dude … someone had a good night. Either the walls are a lot thinner than I realized, or you are some sort of god,” Peter continues harassing Eric.

Praying for invisibility, I inch my bike toward the door without a glance backward.

“Anna banana … our neighbor heard you last night,” Eric says.

No. He. Didn’t.

He did not just call me out in front of Peter.

I swallow my embarrassment and will away the flushing of my face as I glance over my shoulder just before reaching the door. “In your dreams, Steinmann.”

Peter laughs, giving me a cheeky grin like he knows Eric is making shit up about me. I smile to confirm the ridiculousness of it before blowing a mock kiss to Eric Fucking Steinmann.