Page 243 of Allegiance
Instead of the wine first, she walked through her apartment, leaving the lights on as she reached the bathroom. Since the building he was on only came up to her floor, he was staring straight across at her.
It gave him quite the view.
How did he know?
Well, because Calyx walked into her bathroom, shedding clothes as she went.
Holy.
Shit.
When she was in panties and a bra, and then dropped the hooter holster, his heart raced.
Oh, all he saw was her back, and that was plenty.
She had the mother of all tattoos crisscrossing her shoulders and torso. It was of a Renaissance knight on a black horse. It looked so real, and it fascinated him.
As she disappeared, he saw the panties being tossed and land on the floor.
His body reacted, as he wished to God he could see more. This was the erotic peep show that all men craved, and only the lucky ones got.
He knew for a fact that she was well aware of him being there. This was too much of a show.
Ten minutes later, she came out of the shower, and set her hair free, dropping down around her shoulders.
It was to her ass, if not longer, and laid against the towel she had wrapped around her body.
His mouth was so dry.
God.
He was suddenly so thirsty and hungry.
When she undid the knot and dropped the towel as she stood in front of the window, back far enough that he could see her, but the neighbors couldn’t, his erection was almost too painful.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, as he let his gaze drop down her body, cascading lower down her pale skin.
Well, that answered that.
Like his deceased wife, Calyx was a real redhead. The carpets absolutely match the drapes.
While she walked naked through her home, he didn’t stop watching, even though he should. Remmy simply couldn’t help himself.
Now, he was incredibly turned on.
This woman, while looking like his wife, was NOTHING like Karen. She was brash, bold, and was more than fine with proving it.
His erection throbbed unmercifully between his legs, and he wanted to touch himself in the worst way. That was a feat in itself.
No one had made him feel like this for as long as he could remember.
Even his wife.
As she poured a glass of wine, grabbed a notebook, and returned back to the window, Calyx had his full attention.
He never looked away, fearing if he did, she’d vanish, and he’d not see her again.
She was a siren, and he was helpless.