My Innocent Man

C1

Chapter 1 – The Sweetest Prey

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The box was winning.

He was crouched outside her door, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, fumbling with the package like it might explode. Keys scraped against thick tape, hopelessly ineffective, and every few seconds, he mumbled something under his breath—frustrated, flustered, adorably unaware of the world around him.

Mia watched from her doorway, one shoulder leaned against the frame, long bare legs crossed at the ankle. She wore only a loose sweater, no bra, no shorts, just a hint of black lace peeking out beneath the hem. She hadn’t planned to meet her new neighbor like this.

But fate had a sense of humor. And Mia wasn’t about to waste the moment.

"You look like you're losing a war with that box," she drawled, voice slow and syrupy, like honey melting over hot toast.

His head jerked up. Startled. Brown eyes—huge, warm, stunned. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, blinking rapidly behind slightly fogged-up glasses. Hair tousled, soft, the kind of messy that wasn’t styled, just was. His shirt clung to his arms in a way that hinted at lean muscle, though it was clear he didn’t know what to do with it.

"I-I… uh, hi," he stammered, the word catching in his throat like a butterfly trapped in a jar. "I didn't—I mean, I didn’t know anyone—hi. Sorry."

God, he was precious.

"Want help?" Mia offered, shifting her weight so the sweater slipped further down her shoulder, exposing more skin and the edge of a delicate strap. She let her voice dip, sultry and soft, watching his reaction closely.

He stared—not at her body, but at the box. Then at her eyes. Then back at the box, cheeks blooming with color. "I-it’s okay. I think… the tape’s just really strong. I—I can do it. Eventually."

She took a step closer. "I’ve got scissors inside. Sharp ones."

His ears turned red. His ears.

"That would—uh—that would help. I mean, if it’s not—too much trouble?" He swallowed hard. "I’m Nate."

"Mia," she purred, offering a slow smile. "3B."

He blinked. "I just moved into 3C."

"Well, well," she murmured, lips curving. "Hello, neighbor."

She turned and sauntered into her apartment, aware of the way her sweater rose with each step, the way the soft cotton clung to the dip of her lower back. She didn’t look behind her, didn’t need to.

He hadn’t followed. Hadn’t even peeked.

Oh, this one was innocent.

And that made him *dangerous*—in all the best ways.

She found the scissors slowly, intentionally, giving him time to stew in nervous anticipation. When she returned, he was still standing there, box in hand like it held the meaning of life. He gave her a grateful smile when she handed him the scissors, his fingers brushing hers—warm, trembling, unsure.

He knelt again, slicing the tape with the precision of someone performing heart surgery. Books spilled out—thick ones, hardcovers, pages marked with post-its.

"You a student?" she asked, crouching beside him, her knee nearly touching his.

"N-no," he said quickly. "I—I graduated. Last year. Uh, physics. Mostly space stuff. Astrophysics, I guess."

Oh, *this* was too good.

He looked like the kind of guy who stayed up reading theories about wormholes and forgot how hot he looked doing it.

"You build rockets in your spare time?" she teased, her voice a soft hum.

His laugh was short, nervous. "I—I mostly tutor now. High school kids. Physics and math. Just until I figure things out."

Mia leaned in, letting her thigh brush his ever so slightly. "Still figuring things out," she echoed. "That’s cute."

He flushed instantly, skin coloring all the way to his neck.

"I’m not—I mean—I’m twenty-three," he said suddenly, like he needed her to know he wasn’t a child.

Mia tilted her head, studying him with a slow, hungry curiosity. "And still this shy?"

He ducked his head, hiding a small, sheepish smile. "I—I’m not usually… I mean, it’s just—you kind of… caught me off guard."

Caught him. Off guard. Oh, sweetheart, you don’t even know what game you’re playing.

She watched him a moment longer, fascinated. There was something magnetic about the way he couldn’t meet her eyes for too long, the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of the box even when he didn’t realize it. He was sweet. Gentle. And so clearly untouched by girls like her.

And Mia was very, very good at breaking in the untouched.

"You settled in okay?" she asked, not bothering to stand.

He nodded, still crouched beside her, close enough she could smell the faint scent of mint and laundry detergent. “Yeah. Just, uh… still unpacking. It’s kind of overwhelming.”

"You’re welcome to take a break, you know," she said, rising to her feet with deliberate slowness, arms stretching above her head. The motion pulled the sweater tighter around her chest, lifted the hem just enough to flash a sliver of thigh.

Nate looked up. For half a second, just half a second, his gaze flicked—then darted away, guilty.

"I—maybe later," he mumbled, blinking too fast. "I should finish this first."

Mia stepped toward her door, pausing just inside the threshold. She let her fingers trail along the edge of the frame, turning back to look at him through her lashes.

"If you need anything, Nate," she said softly, "I don’t mind being… neighborly."

He gave her a small, stunned nod. “O-okay. Thanks.”

She watched him for one last moment—watched the way his shoulders tensed under her gaze, the way he bit his lip like he wasn’t sure what the hell just happened. And then, with a gentle click, she closed the door.

Inside, she leaned against it, heart pounding—not with nerves, but hunger.

This one was different. This wasn’t about lust.

This was about discovery.

About unraveling someone, thread by trembling thread.

She pictured his hands shaking as he held the scissors, his breath catching when her thigh brushed his, the soft, stunned way he said her name like it tasted too sweet for his mouth.

Oh yes.

This was going to be fun.

And she had all the time in the world to ruin him—slowly, sweetly, completely.

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