The thumping grew louder. Harder. She marveled that his headboard wasn’t knocking the plaster off her wall at this point. His wall probably resembled swiss cheese.
Faith grabbed a pillow and pulled it over her head. It didn’t help.
She picked up other sounds, too. Over the headboard slamming against her wall, she thought she heard the sound of bodies slapping together. Through it all, North never said a word. She never heard his voice or his cries. Unlike Serena, he was a quiet lover. She had a flash of a faceless man, naked and hard bodied, thrusting between the redhead’s curvy thighs like a man possessed.
Serena was screeching like she was on the verge of death. Faith couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe a woman could be reduced to such sounds. What was this man doing that was so amazing? Every man had a penis. What made his so spectacular?
“Incredible,” she muttered.
She couldn’t believe she had moved next door to this.
She couldn’t believe sex could last this long.
And she couldn’t believe that she was starting to get turned on from it.
It was undeniable. The throb was there, deep between her legs, a pulsing beat. She pressed her thighs together, trying to kill it. She wasn’t this perverse. She didn’t even know what he looked like. She hadn’t even heard his voice. How could she be getting aroused? How would she ever face him after this?
Because eventually she would. They were neighbors. They would eventually come face-to-face and she would have to act like she hadn’t heard him hammering some woman on the other side of her wall. She moaned and rolled onto her side, still suffocating herself with her pillow.
Finally, Serena released a scream that sounded faintly like one of those jungle monkeys you hear at the zoo.
The banging stopped.
Faith lifted the pillow off her head and expelled a breath like she was the one who’d just finished a sweaty bout of marathon sex. Her thigh muscles relaxed. Her knees sagged. Her breathing eventually slowed as the night rolled in and darkness stole across her room, sliding in between her blinds like creeping hands.
Voices briefly carried through the wall, indistinguishable murmurings, and then silence fell next door. The only sound Faith heard was the rasp of her breath in the dark.
TWO
North didn’t linger. He never did. He lifted himself off the bed, not sparing a glance for Serena. For now the ache, the never-ending pressure in his chest, had eased. It was only a temporary fix. He knew that, but for as long as it lasted he’d take it. When the pressure returned and work and booze weren’t enough to kill it, he’d hook up with Serena or someone else. Nothing like sex to chase away the demons.
“Well, that was nice,” Serena chirped, still breathless. She peeked over her shoulder at him.
Fortunately, she wasn’t one of those clingy types that needed cuddling after sex. He gave a swat to her perfect ass and moved away. He knew it was more than nice. Women like Serena didn’t settle for anything less. They were a lot alike. She didn’t do relationships either. She was in it for the sex. A quick fuck, hard and satisfying, short on the foreplay and zero on the sweet talk.
He slid on a pair of jeans, snapping the buttons. He’d been out of prison for two years and he was doing okay. He had a job. A house. Sunday dinners at his brother’s place whenever he wanted it—which wasn’t as often as Knox would like. There was only so much marital bliss North could witness between Knox and Briar without feeling nauseous. He forced himself to go occasionally just so Knox wouldn’t show up on his porch determined to play big brother.
“You should try one of those scones I left on the kitchen table,” Serena suggested behind him.
“Scones?” He glanced back at her. She was wrapped up in his sheets like some artfully arranged centerfold. He wasn’t dumb enough to think she was posing like that, one knee bent halfway to her chest and a generous hip thrust out, accidentally.
“Yeah, chocolate chip.”
“You baked? Never pegged you for much of a cook.”
His brother’s wife cooked. Last time he’d visited them out at the farm, she’d baked a chocolate pecan pie that could make a grown man cry. Briar Davis—correction, Briar Callaghan—was a fucking girl scout. She was a nurse, a great cook, and even though he wasn’t supposed to notice it, she had a nice rack. Oh, and she loved his brother. The same guy who went to prison with him . . . whose hands were as bloodstained as North’s.
Knox had been there with him at Devil’s Rock. Except for those last four years. Then it had just been North. Alone. That was the difference.
Apparently, those four years made all the difference.
Knox was able to have a normal life with chocolate pecan pie and a wife.
Four additional years at the Rock made North fit only for booze and meaningless fucks.
Serena pouted. “Maybe you don’t know everything about me, North Callaghan.”
He looked her over appraisingly. “I think I know you pretty well.”