Temptation Next Door: A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance
Page 1
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
EPILOGUE
TEMPTATION NEXT DOOR
A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance
Mia Madison
Copyright © 2017 Mia Madison
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), places or events is purely coincidental. All characters involved in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author or publisher.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to the author.
NOTE: This story contains scenes of a sexual nature and language only suitable for mature readers.
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER 1
Lindsay
Mom and Dad have just gone to work, and I’m slotting the breakfast things into the dishwasher by the time I switch on the radio. The morning show is half over. But it’s not the usual presenter. Gavin Day is filling in today, and I nearly missed him.
He has this deep, sexy, voice that goes right through me like a purring cat. Though he’s talking about everything and anything—what he had for breakfast (donuts and OJ), the news (POTUS has been tweeting again), the sports results, it doesn’t matter. Whatever he says, I could listen all day.
I sigh, and our old dog looks up from his basket in the corner.
“Hey, Pluto. It’s him.”
Pluto looks less than interested, his head dropping back down, but the dog is the only one I can talk to about Gavin Day.
Gavin’s my neighbor and my best friend Kate’s dad. Totally off limits. Not to mention out of my league.
I have a big giant crush on the man, and no one, especially Kate and Gavin himself, can find out about it. I’ll die if they do, and I’m only twenty-one—too young to die.
Oh, but his voice matches him perfectly. Six feet four, dark eyes and the kind of body that makes you want to run your hands all over it.
And then he plays Ed Sheeran “The Shape of You” and I imagine he’s playing it for me because he likes my shape, even though I could do with losing a few pounds. The freshman fifteen stuck around a while and became twenty by the time Kate and I were done with college a couple of weeks ago.
When the doorbell sounds, I switch off Ed singing because it will be my best friend. It’s time to go to work, and I can’t have her catching me listening to her father. She rolls her eyes if she ever happens to hear him on the radio when she’s switching stations in her car.
We have temp work for the summer in the food court at the mall to save up for our trip to Europe—a graduation gift to ourselves before we give up our freedom completely to some corporation or other.
Luckily for me, there’ll be no time to think at the mall. We’ll be clearing sticky tables and mopping floors of trodden-in fries before we know it. No time to think about abs and dark eyes or that sultry voice that could melt panties clean away.
CHAPTER 2
Gavin
When I play music on my show, I imagine the people I’m playing it for. Sometimes, it’s the listeners who have requested something—a song that was played at their wedding, a favorite for their birthday, the new track from an album. Sometimes, it’s for people I know: my daughter, Kate, my dad, and lately, Kate’s best friend, Lindsay, the girl next door who suddenly grew up when I wasn’t paying attention.
She has this innocent Snow White look—all green eyes, pale skin and dark hair, plus a laugh that lights up the room and a body fit for all kinds of dirty things. But she’s my daughter’s friend, for fuck’s sake, grown up or not.
The Baillies have been our friends and neighbors for years, ever since I moved here after Julie left and I got my first break in radio. I can just imagine Bob and Mary going apeshit if they knew what I was thinking about their daughter. And Kate would disown me, for sure.
I can’t go there.
I should stay well away when Lindsay is over at our house to hang with Kate, but somehow, I can’t.
CHAPTER 3
Lindsay
Kate’s dad dives into the pool in their back yard, and I try not to look.
“I’d better get home. Mom will be back soon,” I say to Kate. I’ve stayed too long as it is, sitting gossiping on the lawn chairs. After our grueling shift at the mall, we slumped down, exhausted to catch some rays still in our uniforms, too tired to change. I didn’t realize her dad would be home this early. It’s usually after six before he gets in.
“You know your mom won’t mind. She won’t be in for a while.” Kate knows my family too well. We’ve been inseparable since we were five.
“But I promised her I’d have dinner started before she gets back.” I can’t resist a peek at Mr. Day powering smoothly through the water, his body strong and sleek. I have to stop thinking about the strength of his arms, the firmness of his thighs. He’s ruining me for guys my own age.
He shouts over to us, in that familiar low voice. “Why not grab your swimsuits and come in? The pool is perfect after a day in this heat.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Kate says. She rarely goes in the pool, because, as she says, she gets wet and cool for ten minutes and then she has to spend an hour showering and redoing her hair and makeup.
“What about you, Lindsay? Feel free, even if Kate doesn’t want to swim. You know you can use the pool any time.”
“Thanks, Mr. Day, but I’ve got to go.”
“Gavin, call me Gavin,” he says. “Never mind. Another time.”
There won’t be another time unless he’s not there. I’m sure to blush and look like a dork, not to mention if I wear a swimsuit, my stomach will be all too obvious. I suck it in again. I wish I could hold my breath all day, but I sigh and breathe out.
It’s a wonder my friend hasn’t realized why I make myself scarce around her dad. But I think she’s completely oblivious, as if no one could possibly feel anything but daughterly toward the hottest guy on the planet. Doesn’t she even notice h
ow he looks?
She often goes on about the women her dad takes out, totally clueless how painful that is for me to hear. I don’t want to know about their dresses, their beauty or how sophisticated they are with their glamorous careers. And never girls like us just out of college.
Anyway, it’s time for me to go home and after one last glance at the pool, I leave Kate with her dad. I’ll see her later.
I have dinner almost ready by the time Mom gets home, and Dad follows soon after. I’m a good daughter, or I like to think I am. I’ve never really gotten in a lot of trouble. Why would I? My parents are there for me. They care. They saved up so I could go to college. They don’t get in my face all the time. But then, I don’t give them any reason to worry.
Pluto comes and nuzzles around my ankles in the kitchen while Mom and Dad dump their work stuff, and I stroke his shaggy fur. Boring. That’s what I am. Boring or bored?
Kate and I are going out tonight. She wants to try a new place by the beach.
“We need to live a little,” she said earlier when we made our plans. She thinks we weren’t wild enough when we were at college, but she had boyfriends unlike me. Her latest lasted six months, but she’s not dating anyone right now.
Of course, I’ve been on dates, but there’s always been something about those guys that makes me not want to see them again. Too full of themselves, too handsy, too dull, just not making my heart beat faster…like Mr. Day. I have to stop this and give those boys a chance. And that starts tonight. I’m determined.
So, I’m optimistic getting ready.
When Kate calls for me she says her dad is going to give us a lift.
“I thought you were driving? How will we get back? I can drive if you like.”
“Nope, not happening. We’re going to a cocktail bar and getting an Uber home.”
So much for keeping out of Mr. Day’s way. At least I get to sit in the back of the car where he can’t see me. But then while Kate chatters away, I can’t help fixating on the back of his neck, the way his dark hair curls at his collar, the smooth command he has over the car. His arms with the smattering of dark hair in that soft blue cotton shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. I catch him looking at me in the mirror. Damn! I forgot the mirror. I feel my cheeks redden.
“Okay, Lindsay?” he asks in that smooth, low voice of his that could sell a million products. As well as the radio show, he does voiceovers for commercials, audiobooks, and some voice acting in animations. It freaks me out whenever I hear him when I’m not expecting to. That sultry, sexy voice.
“Yes, I’m good.”
Did he know I was looking at him? And what I was thinking? I hope not. In my mind, his hands were on me, not on the car. All over me. And now I have his voice in my head saying “Okay, Lindsay?” over and over, like a chorus from a song that you catch yourself repeating all day.
I’ve got it bad.
When we get to the bar, that they somehow called “Fruit” instead of “Alcohol,” he gets out and helps me out of the car first before he opens Kate’s door. And then I have his touch to remember too, the touch that sends a rocket of desire through me, a little shudder that leaves my heart throbbing and my panties wet.
“Have fun, girls, just not too much fun,” he says. “You’re both looking gorgeous. You’ll knock them dead.” And he raises his eyebrows up and down a couple of times and laughs. Like all this is funny. And it probably is to him. God, I’m so pathetic.
But Kate rolls her eyes at her father and his remarks, and I giggle at that.
“Thanks for the lift, Dad,” she says and kisses him on the cheek.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Day,” I say. I wish I could kiss the dark scruff of his face, too.
“Gavin,” he says. “Call me Gavin.”
And with that we go into Fruit.
CHAPTER 4
Gavin
I’m tempted to stick around and make sure the girls are okay. I know Kate can handle herself. I’ve taken her to a couple of radio events lately. One of the sound crew—jerk—was all over her, but she doesn’t put up with any crap. I’ve seen her give guys the brushoff with a polite “don’t mess with me” message more than once.
But Lindsay. She seems so vulnerable going in there, like a lamb to the slaughter. Sexy as sin on the outside with her soft curves and sexy red dress. The guys at this Fruit place (what the fuck name is that for a bar?) will be all over her like a rash. Hands pawing at her from all sides.
I should have said no when Kate asked me to take them. Neither of them are used to drinking much, from what I can make out. Maybe they do, though, and I’m just the last to know as a parent. And if they get drunk, I hate to think what will happen.
Bob says Lindsay never gives them a moment’s worry. She worries me, though. In my bed, when I’m trying to get to sleep. During the day, when it’s getting harder to get her out of my head. In fact, make that all the time since Kate and Lindsay came home.
Whenever one of my regular dates, Carol or Susan or Paula, calls me now, or some new acquaintance comes on to me, I’m just not interested. Sometimes I go on dates anyway, because I know I need to get over this. There’s no lack of invitations or opportunity, but I find myself leaving them at their door with a peck on the cheek. What’s that about? Crazy!
Since my ex-wife took off, I’ve never wanted for female attention. Kate always came first, but we had babysitters, and I had dates and sex. No shortage. But now…
I hover outside. Should I wait for them? I can just imagine Kate rolling her eyes at me again if I do that.
I content myself with texting her. “Text me if you need a ride home.”
The message comes back almost immediately: “Thanks, but don’t wait up. We’ll be okay.”
CHAPTER 5
Lindsay
The club is bursting at the seams with locals and tourists. It’s both horrendous and exciting in equal measure. “Let’s get some drinks,” Kate yells above the din, and we press our way through the crowd, trying not to tread on toes, with limited success.
By the time we get to the bar, I’ve had a “hello, pleased to feel you” from one creepy guy I had to squeeze past and numerous smiles, along with a few flirty, not so slimy comments.
“The crowd might thin out later, if people are going on to somewhere else,” Kate says, holding up a twenty to attract the attention of the bartender. I hope she’s right. I don’t like crowds like this.
She looks at her phone. “Oh, Dad wants to give us a lift home.”
She taps in a message.
“What did you say?”
“Not to wait up. We don’t need him knowing what time we get in. The night is still young.”
I smile at her. Though it was nice to think of him waiting for us, caring what we were up to and making sure we got home safe, it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t come back to pick us up. If we drink a few margaritas tonight, I won’t be able to trust myself to hide how I feel about him.
Kate gets us talking to some guys at the bar. Typical guys. Not bad looking. Out for a good time. If I had to choose, there’s one who seems quieter than the rest. But one of the group says, “Don’t mind Jerry; he’s in love. His girlfriend is out of town,” and he makes a yawning motion, covering his mouth. Kate laughs. She’s laughing a lot. I guess we both are, making small talk, trading jokes. We get our drinks, and when we finish our cocktails, the guys buy us more. I’m feeling good, enjoying the chat, the buzz.
The crush of people has eased a bit, and people start moving to the music.
Chad, a blond guy from the group, asks me if I’d like to dance. I say “sure,” because why not? We came out to have a good time. But Chad’s idea of a good time and a dance is different from mine. He murmurs something in my ear. I have no idea what, but it serves as an excuse for him to pull me closer, hold onto my shoulders and then my back. His hands go lower, all over my ass, pulling me against his body.
“That’s how much I want you,” he says, his erection al
l too clear against me, but ugh, I didn’t need to feel that. I don’t want this. I don’t want him.
I remove his hands, but it’s not long before they creep back, and I’ve had enough. He whispers in my ear again. All I hear is “uptight,” said in a jokey way, but he can fuck right off.
Back at the bar, I find Kate is still out on the dance floor with Chad’s friend Paul, Jerry is texting, probably with his girlfriend, and the others are chatting to a group of giggling girls. Chad hasn’t followed me back. Good riddance.
I always take refuge in the restroom when it’s like this. The place is full of girls putting on another layer of war paint and analyzing the latest episode in their love lives. I linger as long as I can in a stall, hoping no one is bursting to get in there. It must be ten minutes later when I venture out to wash my hands. I check on Kate. She’s obviously getting on well, very well, with Paul. They are making out on the dance floor. I don’t want to get in her way. I just need to tell her I’m going home. If they ever stop locking mouths.
“I think I’ll just go,” I tell her when she eventually gets back to the bar and leads me off to the bathroom. I’ve seen altogether too much of those sinks and stalls for one evening.
“I thought you and Chad were getting along.”
“Not so much. I’ll just get an Uber myself if you’ll be okay.”
“I’m more than okay.” She grins. “If you’re sure you won’t stay, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
“Right then, take care.”
That’s the end of my night out, Lindsay style. I should have known. It’s a regular pattern.
*
So much for getting over Gavin. After a night out like that, he seems more attractive than ever. Even so, I avoid him all week. Kate goes out with Paul a couple of times while I stay home. At work, she tells me that she really likes him and how excited she is that he’s coming to her birthday party.