Virgin In The City

Chapter One

Pepper

I hear the beeping of a truck backing up and jump up from the floor and rush to the window. Peering out, I see it’s a moving truck. I run back to my front door, but I’m not tall enough to see through the peephole that well, so I dash to the kitchen and grab a step stool. I almost trip over my own two feet but save myself from falling on my butt. I find the lime-green stool I use when I need something out of the upper part of the cabinets and carry it to the front door.

“Tartar sauce,” I snip out when the stool hits the door with a loud bang. I cringe, hoping I don’t get myself busted for peeping.

I hop up on it, saying a small prayer he hasn’t made it to his door yet. There’s a new tenant who moved in next door and everyone’s been talking about it. The whole place is buzzing because the word is he bought the whole freaking building. Also, Tasha told me he’s crazy hot. She actually called him fuckable, but that’s not something I’d repeat.

My best friend is gorgeous, and she’s always got men giving her attention. She doesn’t leave much to the imagination when it comes to her body, and I envy her confidence. I keep hoping some of it will rub off on me.

I close one eye and squint the other as I press my hands to the door to steady myself. I have to see what’s caught Tasha’s attention. No man has ever turned her head like this before. Well, at least not in the three months I’ve lived here. She was the first friend I made when I moved to the city. She’s ten years older than me and is my complete opposite. Maybe that’s why I’ve never stood out like her when it comes to men.

When I peek through the hole my breath catches. There’s a man standing in the middle of the hallway looking right at my door. He’s so close it startles me, and I stumble back, falling off the stool and landing right on my tush.

“Raspberries!” I cry out, knowing my backside will be feeling that tomorrow.

I realize how loud my exclamation was and throw my hand over my mouth. I close my eyes and wait for a moment, praying he didn’t hear that. When I open them, I have to smother my own laughter at how much of a klutz I am. Especially when I get excited about something.

Letting out a breath, I gather myself up and stand back on my feet. I put my hands on my cheeks, feeling the warmth of my embarrassment. He had to have heard me. Of course I live across from him, so it’s not like I can avoid him forever.

Slowly I creep back to the stool and climb on. When I peek out the hole I expect him to be gone, but I’m not that lucky. He’s still standing there staring at my door, and I want to die of embarrassment. But the longer I stand there, the more I look him over, and I realize Tasha was right.

His dark shirt is stretched tight against his broad barrel chest, and he looks he could rip a tree in half with his bare hands. I stare at him in wonder as his massive body remains still and he watches my door. Impossibly, his eyes appear to be looking straight through it and I swear he can see me. I lean back, needing a breather from his intense, rich brown eyes. When I step off the stool I take another few steps from the door, feeling like I need to put space between us. He’s got me rattled, but I’m not afraid and I don’t know why I’m suddenly so unsure of myself.

He could probably knock down the door if he wanted to. One kick with those thick thighs of his and the lock wouldn’t stand a chance. It should probably terrify me that a man-beast lives across the hall from me, but my body is reacting in a way it never has before. Yeah, maybe Tasha was right. That must be what fuckable means.

I bite my lip, taking another few steps back before my butt hits the sofa and I fall onto it. I lie there looking up at the ceiling as I wonder who he might be. I’ve never in my life seen a man that big before. In real life, it’s shocking. I giggle when I think about what a man of his size could do for a living. Maybe he’s a bear wrestler? It’s ridiculous, but I think he’d probably stand a chance in a ring with one.

My phone dings and I roll over, reaching for it on the small table next to my sofa. It can only be one of three people. I’ve made two friends since I moved here—Tasha and Wanda. The only other person who messages me is my Aunt Nellie. She raised me like I was her daughter, but she’s not so great with technology. I get a call from her about once a week, so I have a feeling it’s Tasha. I grin when I see her message.