My Husband Hired My Temptation Next Door - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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"Hey, you okay there, sis? Didn't hurt yourself, did you?"
Chase Evans slid an arm around my waist, his movie-star smile flashing effortlessly.
I shook my head, my voice catching. "N-no, I'm fine."
"Good." That smirk of his reappeared—the one that made girls at the gym trip over their own feet.
With his chiseled jawline and the kind of muscles that filled out a t-shirt just right, the guy was walking temptation.
Then his palm connected with my backside.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as his breath warmed my ear. "You're wound up tight, sis. Need help unwinding?"
My brain short-circuited. Was he seriously hitting on me with Vanessa one room away?
A traitorous shiver ran down my spine—not disgust, but something far more dangerous.
I shoved him back, words tumbling out. "N-no thanks!"
Heart hammering, I bolted for my room like Cinderella before midnight. Then I skidded to a halt.
Oh God. My laundry hamper.
My plan had been simple: wash my lingerie at dawn before anyone noticed. But Chase had picked tonight of all nights for a midnight snack run.
I raced back in my thin sleep shirt, too panicked to change.
The bathroom door stood ajar.
There he was—my lace panties pressed to his face, inhaling like they were some rare perfume.
I turned to stone.
Chase glanced over his shoulder and hit me with that smirk. "Lonely tonight, sis?"
His tongue dragged across his bottom lip. "You smell fucking addictive."
Addictive?
I snatched the fabric so fast I nearly ripped it, then fled without breathing.
Door locked, I pressed my ear to the wood—half-terrified, half-hoping for footsteps.
Nothing.
The hollowness in my chest shouldn't have stung so much.
Not after seeing him shirtless in the bathroom light, all those ridges and valleys of muscle. No wonder Vanessa had that permanent post-coital glow lately.
I buried the lingerie under three layers of sweaters and fell into feverish dreams.
Dawn found me scrubbing fabric raw before hanging it discreetly on the balcony.
Vanessa emerged at breakfast, yawning. "Mmm, your chicken soup again?" She practically skipped to the kitchen.
Chase passed me without so much as a wink. Just a polite, "Sis."
The whiplash left me nauseous.
Work dragged. By closing time at the jewelry store, my feet screamed in their heels.
I stumbled home craving my bed—only to freeze in the doorway.
Chase stood on the balcony.
Dangling my black stockings from one finger.
Chase Evans slid an arm around my waist, his movie-star smile flashing effortlessly.
I shook my head, my voice catching. "N-no, I'm fine."
"Good." That smirk of his reappeared—the one that made girls at the gym trip over their own feet.
With his chiseled jawline and the kind of muscles that filled out a t-shirt just right, the guy was walking temptation.
Then his palm connected with my backside.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as his breath warmed my ear. "You're wound up tight, sis. Need help unwinding?"
My brain short-circuited. Was he seriously hitting on me with Vanessa one room away?
A traitorous shiver ran down my spine—not disgust, but something far more dangerous.
I shoved him back, words tumbling out. "N-no thanks!"
Heart hammering, I bolted for my room like Cinderella before midnight. Then I skidded to a halt.
Oh God. My laundry hamper.
My plan had been simple: wash my lingerie at dawn before anyone noticed. But Chase had picked tonight of all nights for a midnight snack run.
I raced back in my thin sleep shirt, too panicked to change.
The bathroom door stood ajar.
There he was—my lace panties pressed to his face, inhaling like they were some rare perfume.
I turned to stone.
Chase glanced over his shoulder and hit me with that smirk. "Lonely tonight, sis?"
His tongue dragged across his bottom lip. "You smell fucking addictive."
Addictive?
I snatched the fabric so fast I nearly ripped it, then fled without breathing.
Door locked, I pressed my ear to the wood—half-terrified, half-hoping for footsteps.
Nothing.
The hollowness in my chest shouldn't have stung so much.
Not after seeing him shirtless in the bathroom light, all those ridges and valleys of muscle. No wonder Vanessa had that permanent post-coital glow lately.
I buried the lingerie under three layers of sweaters and fell into feverish dreams.
Dawn found me scrubbing fabric raw before hanging it discreetly on the balcony.
Vanessa emerged at breakfast, yawning. "Mmm, your chicken soup again?" She practically skipped to the kitchen.
Chase passed me without so much as a wink. Just a polite, "Sis."
The whiplash left me nauseous.
Work dragged. By closing time at the jewelry store, my feet screamed in their heels.
I stumbled home craving my bed—only to freeze in the doorway.
Chase stood on the balcony.
Dangling my black stockings from one finger.
End of My Husband Hired My Temptation Next Door Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to My Husband Hired My Temptation Next Door book page.