“Ugh. How long are you going to be?”
The voice comes from somewhere behind me.
“What’s the problem?” I grunt into the cardboard, trying not to drop everything as I step to the back of the elevator.
“I have to get upstairs,” the woman says. “And you’re hogging the elevator.”
I jam the boxes in a corner, gritting my teeth and wishing I had hired movers to help with this bullshit. Who knew I had so much stuff? Between my place in Indiana and my old bedroom above the bar, I had amassed more shit than I knew what to do with. But this chick, the one tapping her foot against the cold marble in the lobby doesn’t give a crap about any of that.
When I bought the unit, I didn’t think about the fact that there was only one elevator for the entire fifty-unit building. I was too excited about buying my first place, which was also the only available penthouse on the block.
“I’ll make a spot for you.” I back out of the half-empty elevator, pushing boxes aside for the woman.
She groans, bumping into my shoulder as she walks by me. “Inconsiderate,” she mumbles.
She may be bitchy, but the calves on her could choke me out if she wrapped them the right way around my neck.
Then there’s that ass. High and tight in running shorts and a half tank, showing off her black tramp stamp like a beacon, calling out to my cock, just above her waistband.
When she spins around, her front is more spectacular than the view from the back. Big tits, skin the color of caramel frosting, and long brown hair dancing over her breasts just like my hands would if given half the chance.
“Are you done yet?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
She’s caught me looking, but hell if I’m going to admit it. “With what?”
How could I not stare? There’s no way she walks around in that outfit and doesn’t expect to catch an eye or two. She might as well be naked between the amount of skin she’s showing and the tightness of the clothes she’s wearing.
She moves one hand to her face, and my eyes follow. “My eyes are up here.”
I nearly swallow my tongue as I take in her full pink lips, high cheekbones, and bronze-colored eyes.
She’s just a hot chick, Vinnie.
I’d been with dozens of hot girls, but damn it, I’m a connoisseur of fine women. One is more beautiful than the next.
I don’t use them either. I worship their beauty and softness, losing myself in the pleasure I give to them as well as myself.
“Are you done gawking?”
I can’t take my eyes off her mouth as she speaks. The way the corner of her lips turns up a little as they move is hot as hell.
It’s like I’ve gone stupid, which is something new for me.
Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in weeks, deciding it was better to keep my junk in my pants as I transition from college into my new life as a professional football player and step into adulthood.
I clear my throat and grab more boxes. “I wasn’t gawking.”
She drops a shoulder and tilts her head, totally calling me on my bullshit. “You were staring.”
“I was trying to figure out if I could fit more boxes on before we head up,” I lie through my goddamn teeth.
There’s no way I’m giving this girl, who’s throwing attitude like it’s her job, any more ammunition to toss in my face than she already has.
I set another stack of boxes just inside the doors, and as I stand, I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little too long on her legs.
“You’re doing it again,” she tells me, and that damn foot starts tapping once more.
I straighten and shake off the wicked voodoo this chick has put on me, deciding to turn on the charm that’s gotten me into all the ladies’ panties since I was fifteen. “I’m Vinnie Gallo.” I put my hand between us with the killer smile that’s scored me so much pussy, even Hugh Hefner would be jealous.
She looks down but doesn’t even try to touch me. “Bianca Hernandez.”
“Bianca.” I like the way her name rolls off my tongue. I don’t think I’ve ever had a Bianca in my bed. “I’m moving into 11A.” I pull my hand back as I slide into the elevator in the small space between Bianca and the keypad. We’re so close, I can smell the sweet scent of the perfume she sprayed on her skin this morning.
“Great.” There’s no joy in her voice. She hasn’t bothered to look at me again, finding the brown carpeting under our feet far more interesting than me. “I’m in 11B.”
I smile wider. “We’re neighbors.”
I hadn’t even bothered to ask the real estate agent about the people inside the building or who would be next to me with the entire floor to ourselves. I’ll barely be home anyway and didn’t think it would matter. But…this is a very interesting turn of events.
“I’ve never been so happy in my life,” she says sarcastically.
I shouldn’t like this crabby chick with an attitude bigger than my sister’s, but there’s something about her that makes me want to peel away the layers and see what’s underneath.
“Want to hit eleven? I’m late and don’t have all day to chitchat.”
“Sorry.” I punch the button for the eleventh floor and glance her way. “Busy day, huh?”
She slowly turns her face upward, gazing at me with those honey eyes. “Since we’re going to be alone on the eleventh floor, let’s get a few things straight.”
I nod but keep my mouth shut, because my mother and sister taught me when to listen and when to speak. This is clearly a moment to listen to the sassy little Bianca.
“I get up early, so I don’t have late-night parties or put up with rowdy, loud assholes keeping me up. I work from home, and I like the peace and serenity living on the eleventh floor provides me. Don’t ruin it.”
“Noted,” I say as she gawks at my arms.
I flex a little because my muscles are no doubt impressive. I spend more than half my daily workout on my arms, trying to make them stronger than ever before to earn the starting spot on the field this season.
“Do not think we’re going to be buddy-buddy just because we share a few walls.” Her gaze lingers on my forearms, much like mine did on her calves.
“What if I run out of sugar?”
“There’s a corner store down the street,” she says quickly.
“Cream?”
“I use soy milk.”
Damn.
The girl has all her bases covered like I’m not the first asshole to have impure thoughts about her, which I’m totally sure I’m not. The attitude probably chases everyone away, but I’m used to attitude. Growing up Gallo, it came with the territory.
If anything, the way she’s trying to keep me at a distance, presenting herself as a challenge, just makes me want to try a little more.
The elevator lurches, and Bianca falls forward into my arms. It’s like a sign from above, and I know the big guy is on my side. “I got you.” I grab on to her waist, steadying her, but also keeping her close because she feels good against me.
Her tiny hands wrap around my biceps as she pushes herself backward and glares up at me with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing?” Her fingernails bite into my skin, mixing a little pain with the pleasure of her body pressed against mine.
I instantly release her waist. “I didn’t want you to fall.”
“I’m fine. This happens all the time,” she says, but she hasn’t bothered to take her hands off me. Her smooth palms are still flat against my skin, almost groping my muscles like a cat does a fluffy blanket when it’s happy.
When I glance down, looking at where our bodies are still connected, she finally pulls away. “Sorry.” She clears her throat.
“Don’t be,” I tell her because I’m not sorry in the slightest. I want to see those slender fingers with cherry-red polish wrapped around my cock as those plump pink lips suck me off. “Shit happens.”
By the way she’s staring at me, I think she’s going to kiss me, moving in for the kill. I hold my breath, feeling my skin tingle all over at the excitement of the moment.
Fucking in an elevator is an experience, one I’ve already had and would happily replicate with this hot little firecracker. But she doesn’t kiss me. She doesn’t touch me. She pushes the button on the wall behind me, and the elevator starts to move again.
We stare at each other without speaking for the last few floors. Maybe she feels the same crackle in the thick air. How could she not? I felt it the moment her skin touched mine. The second she fell into my arms like she was always meant to be there.
She practically runs out of the elevator as soon as it comes to a stop, sliding between the doors before they’ve fully opened.
“It was nice meeting you, Bianca,” I call out, watching her ass shake as she stalks toward her end of the hallway.
She jams her key into the lock and finally looks at me again. “Let’s not make a habit of this,” she says before her eyes rake over my body.
“Fuck,” I groan while I adjust my semihard cock in my sweat pants as she disappears inside her place. “Do not fuck the neighbor,” I tell myself.
This isn’t college or a rental. The last thing I need is to get my fill of the hot Latina princess and then have to see her pouty lips every day, taunting me as she fantasizes about killing me because I did her wrong.
I have a problem.
I’m a lover of women.
All kinds of women.
Typically, not the same woman more than once unless they have a special skill I just have to sample one more time.
Sleeping with Bianca wouldn’t end well for either of us.
I kick open the door to my penthouse, stopping in the foyer to take in the sweeping view of the city and the stadium where I’ll play for the next year.
I’m home.
Back in my old stomping grounds with a hometown crowd ready to cheer my name. I should be thinking about the endless hours of unpacking I have ahead of me, but as I wander toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, all I can think about is the raging hard-on I now have courtesy of the sexy little number on the other side of the wall.
Fucking perfect.