I Love You, My Neighbour

Chapter 15: More Than a Friend (But Playing It Cool)

Kristy

Cricket is having the time of his life in the back of Logan's Ute, while I feel like I'm in a personal hell. I desperately need some fresh air.

"This window is jammed," I inform Logan, struggling with the switch on the passenger side armrest.

I don't know why I agreed to let Logan drive Cricket and me to dog obedience lessons. True, my car doesn't exactly have the leg space Logan would like, but it also lacks something else I could have done without right now—the scent of his deodorant mingled with his underlying masculine scent. The combination is potent and heady, and my hormones are screaming at me to take advantage of the enclosed space we're in. Even when I try to hold my breath, to stop myself from inhaling his enticing scent, I can't keep my eyes off the way his thighs flex every time he changes gear. I never thought I'd find the simple act of driving sexy, but Logan is quickly proving me wrong.

"Opening that window takes some finesse," Logan replies.

Out of nowhere, he reaches across me to tinker with the automatic window button, his elbow brushing against my thigh and causing a jolt of electricity to course through me. Adrenaline surges, igniting a fiery heat deep within my core, as my body eagerly anticipates a continuation of last night's dream. It seems unaware that it wasn't the real thing, or perhaps it does and that's precisely why it's yearning for a chance to get down and dirty with Logan for real.

I don't masturbate often. Outside of relationships, I could count the number of orgasms I've given myself on one hand. But the need I felt for relief last night had been so urgent, I'd had to touch myself. I'd closed my eyes and pretended Logan was kissing me, touching me, loving me.

And when I gave into the climax that had been building, I yelled his name so loudly that I'm grateful he hadn't been staying overnight next door. Undoubtedly, he would have heard me if he had.

Logan gives me a quizzical look, reminding me to keep my composure.

"Sorry," I mutter. "I've had too much caffeine at work. I've been on edge all day."

It's a lie, but sometimes it's safer to fabricate a story than to reveal the truth. Even though there's no way he could know about my late-night escapades, the memory of it makes my cheeks burn. If the song "I Touch Myself" by the Divinyls were to come on the radio, I might as well confess every dirty thought I had about him last night.

"The downside of working at a café with the best coffee in town," he says as he rolls down the window halfway.

I release the breath I've been holding and try to relax. "Not sure it's the best coffee in town."

"But the best cakes, no doubt," he replies.

Turning to look at him, I feel his eyes on me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He smiles, and I can't help but return the smile, cherishing these moments of easy camaraderie. Though he doesn't laugh often, his smiles have become more frequent, and each one feels like a small victory.

My feelings for him are growing with each passing day, and worryingly, our blossoming friendship is transforming my attraction into something deeper than mere physical desire. I should run away as fast as my legs can carry me, knowing how desiring a man like him will end for me. But I can't seem to put an end to this developing connection. Despite the torment of being around someone who will never see me the way I see him, spending time with Logan and his friends brings me joy. I realize I've been lacking that in my life lately.

"Why the extra coffee?" Logan asks. "Did you have trouble sleeping?"

"No," I reply, my cheeks flushing as I recall the ache of longing for him last night. "Not really."