Chapter One
Jess
I peered through the peephole as my neighbor shoved his key into the lock of his apartment door. His broad back was covered with a t-shirt even though the weather still carried a winter chill. Tattoos snaked from his sleeves, black ink in stark lines covering all the way to his wrists.
He turned the lock, the click loud in the quiet hallway. I let out a breath. He froze. Then he turned his head, looking right at me over his shoulder. I already knew his eyes were a deep green. I’d spied on him before, more times than I’d like to admit.
My skin tingled as he eyed the peephole. I didn’t dare move. If I did, he might know I was there. My palms began to sweat where they rested against the door as the moment lasted, his gaze watchful. Finally, he smirked the slightest bit, his full lips quirking before he turned and pushed through his door. He slammed it behind him and I backed away and rubbed my hands down my pajama pants.
Holy shit. Did he know I was there? I’d watched him for months, ever since he’d moved in right at Thanksgiving. But I was always careful, never meeting his eye on the few occasions when we’d passed in the hall or the lobby. I was far too shy to ever really look at him, much less speak to him.
I turned and took the few steps to my couch before sinking down and dragging my laptop over. I went to his Twitter, wondering if he’d posted anything new in the past hour. Nothing. I drummed my short nails on the computer before clicking over to his Instagram. There were two new photos – both models he’d no doubt been shooting for the morning. They were perfect, lying on a bed in their bras and panties while staring lustfully at the camera.
Looking down at my curvy frame, completely devoid of ink or anything extraordinary, I realized for the millionth time that I didn’t have a chance with Michael. He was chiseled and lean, with dark hair and deep green eyes. His pierced eyebrow and motorcycle only added to his mystique. He was intensely gorgeous, untouchable. More than that, he was an artist with a bigtime reputation for his ability to take amazing photos. Not to mention, he had a dark past. My past was boring and would likely put a man like Michael Williams to sleep.
The lusty models stared back at me, but really, they were staring at Michael, at his amazing body and intelligent eyes. I flipped the laptop closed and leaned back, glaring at the ceiling and trying to shake my obsession with my neighbor. It hadn’t worked yet.
I checked my phone. Shit. I was going to be late for class. I darted up and went to my bedroom, throwing on a v-neck long sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and some tall boots. After brushing my teeth and hair, I grabbed my jacket and messenger bag.
I barreled out my door, slammed it closed, and turned to lock it.
“Hi.”
I looked up slowly, the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention. He was behind me. Michael was in the hall. Behind me. Talking to me. Oh my god. I stared at my door, frozen to the spot. How long had he been standing there? Seconds, minutes, hours? I had no idea. I forced myself to breathe.
“Are you okay?” A smile was in his voice.
I focused on the peephole. I was on the wrong side of it.
“I-I . . .”
“What’s you name?” The floorboard creaked behind me.
“My name?” Fog swirled around my brain.
He chuckled, a low sound that made my stomach clench. “Yeah, what’s your name?”
“Jess.” I wanted to turn and look at him, but I couldn’t. I already knew every line of his face, his neck, his arms. But what would he think if he saw all of me?
“Short for something?”
Did he just call me short ? “What?”
The floorboard creaked again and his shadow fell against the wall next to me.
“I mean, is your full name Jessica?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard and turned my head toward him, even though I knew it was a mistake.
“I’m Michael.”
I know. He moved so he leaned against
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