[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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March 2007
MARK
My feet pound the wet pavement as I kick up my pace for the final stretch of my run. No amount of exercise will shift last night's events from my head. I even pummelled the punch bag until my arms burned with fatigue, and still Zoe's gentle moans sang through my head like a song on repeat. I saw a different side to her. A more primal one. An intimate one. And I want to see it again and again and again.
The block of flats come into view, and I push through the remaining painful strides before letting the brick wall break my speed. Hands on my hips, I tip back my head to catch my breath.
Who knew Zoe had a hidden side? And why did I enjoy kissing her so much when usually kissing is a tedious precursor to a more interesting activity?
I plod up the outer steps, pausing halfway to tear off my damp t-shirt and wipe the sweat dripping down my brow. The rain is refreshing against my bare skin, but it can't wash away the thoughts of Zoe's body from my mind. I've seen her in minimal clothes previously. Ridiculously short skirts or tight tops that leave little to the imagination. Turns out my imagination is poor, though, because never could I have guessed how perfect her body is underneath the fabric.
In fact, I've replayed it so many times that I'm starting to wonder if I'm misremembering. If maybe her skin wasn't as soft, or her tits weren't as huge. It was the hottest kiss of my life—not difficult, mind you—so perhaps my memory is exaggerating the reality.
I reach the flat entrance and shove my hand into my pocket to pluck out the key. Just as I push it into the lock, the door swings open.
Zoe stands there, wearing considerably more clothes than the last time I saw her. Fuck. I used to hate that bright pink coat, but even that looks good on her now.
"Oh." Her eyes widen, then drop to my chest.
I've received text messages that are harder to read than Zoe's body language. It drives me insane, seeing how she checks me out with unrestrained interest. There's clearly a mutual attraction between us. Now we've succumbed to it, what's stopping us from exploring it further? She said it herself last night: two friends acting on an urge. It doesn't have to be complicated or messy. If she can handle it, I certainly can.
"Where are you going this early?" I ask.
She bites her bottom lip and glances up at me. "Oh, um... just for a walk. Couldn't sleep."
She's sneaking out. That's what she's doing. And I've caught her in the act.
"Want some company?" I offer.
It's not just because I want to watch her squirm through her lie; I hate the idea of her walking through London's streets alone this early in the morning.
"You look like you've just finished," she says.
I shrug. "I still need to warm down. A walk will help. Just let me grab a fresh top and jacket."
