The Dom Next Door Read Free Page B

unfolding them. The blue and green plaid shorts must’ve somehow made it into my pile of clothes while Jack and I had been folding and talking.
    This was good.
    I rubbed the soft fabric between my fingers. My mouth watered as I pictured Jack wearing these and nothing else. As much as I wanted to keep them— did that mean I was a sick individual or just really, really horny? —the underwear gave me an excuse to go to Jack’s. And a part of me wondered if that was what he’d planned by dropping them into my things.
    Wait, had he planted them?
    Nah, a man as smooth and sexy as Jack wouldn’t need to go to such lengths to get a woman. They’d probably ended up in my basket by accident. Since fate had smiled on me, there was no reason for me to bungle this chance. I’d return them right away.
    I knocked on his door and he answered quickly.
    “Violet, hi. Good to see you again.”
    “Hi, Jack. I found something in my laundry basket…I think they belong to you.” I’d left the hand holding the shorts behind my back. I thrust my hand forward. I showed him the plaid boxers I’d folded into a neat square.
    “Oh, yeah. Those belong to me. Thanks. You know, usually I take a woman out on a date or two before she handles my underwear.”
    I couldn’t help but giggle at his attempt to lighten the mood. Had I embarrassed the aggressive Dom next door?
    He took the item from my hands and stepped aside, indicating he’d like me to enter.
    “Would you like to come in?”
    A chill traveled the length of my spine when I crossed the threshold into his living room. How could I turn down a chance to go into his apartment? Even though I’d seen a lot of what I referred to as his sin den through the windows, I had to pretend I was looking at his living room for the first time.
    “Very nice. You have good taste. Your place is not the proverbial bachelor pad like my brother’s apartment. His living room furniture consists of a couple of zero gravity chairs and big flat screen TV.”
    I stifled a moan when I was enveloped by the butter soft texture of his dark brown leather sofa.
    “Would you like a drink?”
    “No, thanks.”
    “Okay, excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.”
    He walked toward his bedroom, I guess to put his boxers away. He came back empty handed.
    “So, what do you do for a living, Violet?” He sat down on the other end of the couch.
    “I’m a writer, but these days, just barely. Lately I haven’t been writing much of anything. I’ve kind of got the dreaded writer’s block.”
    “What do you write?”
    “Mysteries. I’m working on a new series, it’s still in the developmental stages, but I’m supposed to have already delivered the first book to my editor. I’ve kind of hit a wall. For whatever reason, my muse is no longer visiting me so I’m late getting the manuscript turned in to her.”
    “Wow, I can’t imagine writing an entire book. I think I could write a couple of sentences then I’d be hitting a wall, literally. Like banging my head against one. English was always my least favorite subject in school. Too many rules to follow.”
    “Oh? So, you don’t like following rules? You’re a bad boy are you?”
    “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I prefer making the rules to following them.”
    Beneath my cotton t-shirt my nipples hardened. I could follow any rule he dished out. With pleasure.
    “Well, don’t you have to follow rules at work? What do you do for a living?”
    “I’m in IT. I mainly work as a consultant for a few small companies. The upsides are that I’m my own boss and I get to choose which companies I work with. The downside is that when something critical happens, like if the servers crash at two in the morning, my phone rings. In the long run, it’s a fair trade off. At least I think it is.”
    “That explains the computer monitors.” I pointed to the three spread across his desk. “If I’ve impressed you by saying I’m a writer, you’ve just impressed