Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 15

Let the record reflect that I, Jack Kincaid, am not a good man. I am a villain. More importantly, I’m Wren’s villain. A role I’ve had a love-hate relationship with. I kissed her. Why in the fuck did I do that? ’Cause I already haven’t been having enough trouble with this woman, I felt the need to pile on more? Then I watched her for the entire game because I couldn’t take my eyes off her. After that, I went fucking book shopping based on her recommendations and purchased the books she suggested. Then, like the twisted-up man I’ve been where Wren is concerned, I proceeded to jerk off in the shower to thoughts of her on her knees for me.

While I was in my new apartment next door to hers.

In the three days since I did all this, I still haven’t come up with a real answer for why. Well, that’s sort of a lie. I know why I kissed her. I couldn’t handle watching her panic and do the fours thing again. I get it. Being trapped in an elevator is a bit unnerving, and certainly no one’s favorite thing. But she wasn’t just a little freaked out or nervous.

She was panicking.

Like, it was a legit concern in my head that she would pass out from hyperventilating.

Feeling helpless, I started that argument to distract her. I knew she’d take the bait. Wren Fritz never misses an opportunity to try and hand me my ass. I wanted to piss her off. I wanted her angry. I wanted her to forget we were trapped in a four-by-four metal box suspended in the air by only a couple of cables. But she stormed over to me with a sexy fire in her eyes and smelling like all kinds of heaven and made the ultimate mistake of saying she wasn’t my good girl.

I snapped. Broke. Something I swear I only do with her.

But god, that kiss. How she tasted. The sounds she made. The way she felt.

Shame and guilt made an ugly concoction in my stomach because for the first time, I wasn’t feeling shameful or guilty. No remorse. I wanted that kiss, and I took it. Probably because we both knew what it was. A hate kiss. A momentary distraction. Something that will never happen again.

Even if I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

And with that, I can’t escape her, but worse than that, she’s everywhere. Even when she’s not physically in front of me, I’m thinking about her. Wondering where she is and if she’s okay and what’s with the fours thing? Is it a calming technique, or does she have a touch of OCD she’s battling? Is it new, or has she always done it?

And what did Sorel mean when she said she’s had it rough? Is that where the fours come from? Did someone hurt her? Owen never mentioned anything about it to me. When I saw her step onto that elevator, at first not realizing I was on it, I thought maybe it’s time to put all this animosity to rest. She’s going to be my neighbor. She’s Owen’s little sister. She’s in my life whether I want her there or not.

Plus, she’s had it rough and I know Sorel wasn’t referring to what I did to her. Someone else in addition to me hurt her and the guilt of that is clawing at me. The desire to find that person and eliminate them too. But I had to start with me.

I was going to apologize for everything I’ve done to her, tell her that I’m her new neighbor, and ask for a truce. Maybe even forgiveness. Then the car stopped and she started to panic, and I couldn’t force the words out. She would have killed me with her bare hands if I told her I was moving in next door while she was mid panic attack.

We’re undeniably enemies, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want her more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman. And until I can stop thinking about or wanting her this way, I’m limiting my engagement with her.

Which is what I’ve done for the last three days.

I hardly saw Wren at work on Monday or Tuesday and only interacted with her intern. I didn’t look at her. Not even once. It was the same for her with me.I was fine with that. Talking to her at work wasn’t the best option. I was going to tell her yesterday after our shifts that I’m moving next door to her today, but she had already left by the time I was done. Now here I am, moving into my new place while she’s at work, and she has no clue.

Which is messed up.

Owen texted last night asking for my address so he could stop by and see it, and like the coward I am, I haven’t responded. He’ll find it funny because he has no clue. I, on the other hand, find nothing amusing about this. I want things to be easier between us, not harder, and I have no clue how to make that happen now.

It’s been pouring all day, but despite the miserable weather, everything has gone quickly and efficiently. The movers set the last piece in place, and after I pay them and shut and lock the door, I move from room to room, space to space, as I did last week. Only it’s different now. Boxes line the walls, furniture sits where it’s no longer empty, and my new couch comes tomorrow. I have a lot of work to do, and I’m glad I took the rest of the week off to get it done. But it’s everything I imagined it would be, and I won’t allow her to taint it.

Infatuations are temporary. They’re typically curiosity-driven. They’re foolish and unreasonable. Hell, I don’t even like her. It doesn’t make sense that I would want her this way and to this extent, and with that, it’ll burn itself out sooner rather than later. I’m sure of it. That’s part of why I want the truce. Maybe if we temper all the bitterness and tension between us and she forgives me, I won’t have this lingering thing with her. Especially if under no circumstances do I kiss or touch her again.

I get started on the boxes and suitcases in my bedroom first when my phone pings with a text.

A thrill runs through me.

I practically fall over. I’m his top choice? Wow.

It’s happening. And I want it. I fucking want it. I know I told myself I wasn’t going to get my hopes up, but here they are. They’re in space they’re floating so high. Chief. Chief of the emergency department of MGH. That’s no small thing. That’s a brass ring in the medical community. A top five hospital in the country, and I’d be chief of a level 1 trauma center.

That means I need to be on the straight and narrow. It means I can’t afford a misstep especially with a student. I glance in the direction of Wren’s apartment and quickly brush it off. Nothing was going to happen with Wren before this, but now that I know what I’m fighting for, nothing ever will. It can’t.

I get back to my apartment and focus on what I have immediate control over. All this is going to take weeks to finish, but I make my bed and put my clothes into my dresser and closet. A notification comes through on my phone informing me that my package of tools and hanging supplies was delivered. Perfect timing since that’s what I’m about to get to next in here.

Opening the door to my apartment, I spot the box in the center of the hallway between my door and Wren’s instead of downstairs in the front vestibule between the outside door and the inside door. Not only that, it’s so saturated with water, there’s a wet spot beneath it on the floor, and the cardboard is wilting.

Did the delivery guy drown it in a puddle before delivering it?

Just as I go to pick it up, I hear a series of clicks before Wren’s door swings open. Oh shit.

I don’t have time to retreat, and really, I need to own this. Yet…

Our eyes lock, and for one very long, pulsing second, we don’t do anything other than stare at each other. She’s out of her scrubs and wearing a deep purple, overly hairy sweater that cuts off just beneath her tits and tight black leggings with shin-height green fuzzy socks. Her hair is up too, and I can’t stop myself from taking in the lines of her face and neck and her body after it. She looks ridiculous and hot at the same time.

Thick, black lashes flutter in rapid fire before her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here, and how did you get into my building?” Her tone is nothing short of accusatory. Before I can respond, her gaze slides to the open door behind me and then boomerangs back to me, where she takes in my dirty joggers and rumpled hoodie. “No.” It’s a whispered gasp as her hand covers her lips. She shakes her head incredulously. A look of pure, unrestrained hatred mixed with horror transforms her pretty features one by one. “You live there?” She points over my shoulder. “You bought that place?”

“Yes.”

“When?” Another head shake, and I’m glad she doesn’t have a sharp instrument in her hand. Otherwise, I’m positive she’d use it to impale me. “You bought the place next door to me?! You son of a bitch!”

Yeah, I’m thinking forgiveness and a truce are off the table now.

“I didn’t know you lived here when I bought it!” I defend.

She scoffs acerbically. “Right. I’m supposed to believe that? You’re a goddamn stalker!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. Stalking requires interest, of which I have none in you,” I lie. “I don’t give a shit whether you believe me or not. I never thought about you enough to know where you lived. Trust me, living next to you is the last thing I want.”

She points at me. “But you’re not surprised to see me. Not the way I am to see you. How long have you known I lived here? And why didn’t Owen say anything?”

Well, that’s a tricky question. “I’ve known since Friday. Owen still doesn’t know.”

“Friday?!” she parrots with a high-pitched, hysterical shriek. “So at the restaurant⁠—”

“No,” I interject. “I followed you home, and that’s when I realized.”

Her jaw drops. “You followed me home?! You are a stalker.”

I roll my eyes dismissively. “Are you going to repeat everything I say as a question?”

She emits a shrill noise. “Are you kidding me right now?” Another finger points at me, this one murderous. “Don’t you dare be a sarcastic asshole to me right now, Jack Kincaid. Not only did you follow me home from the restaurant, but you knew for five days, including Sunday when you saw me, that you were moving next door to me. And you didn’t freaking think to tell me?!” Her voice climbs higher and higher as she goes. I didn’t think it could reach another octave, but here we have it.

She’s not wrong to be this upset. Everything she just said is true.

“I thought about it, but honestly, there wasn’t a good time to tell you.”

“Not a good time?!” That sets her off, and she marches over and smacks my chest. “You are the most loathsome, deplorable man I’ve ever known.”

I shake my head. “I highly doubt that. And what does that say about you since you kissed me?”

“What?!” She starts to lose it. “You kissed me!” She shakes her head, stopping herself. “Wait. One thing at a time. You’re trying to distract me again, but I won’t let you do it this time. Why did you follow me?”

Well damn if she wasn’t onto me. I hold up my hands in surrender. “To make sure you got home safely. I swear, that’s all. I told you that night, I didn’t like you going home in a strange Uber with a strange man when you looked…” I trail off. Calling her sex on legs again won’t help me. It won’t help my dick either to remember her in that dress.

She squints at me. “Okay, I’ll let that go. But why didn’t you tell me on Sunday?”

“You mean when you were already having a panic attack about being stuck in an elevator with me?” I deadpan, but she’s not amused. Not even a little.

She smacks me again. “I can’t live next door to you!”

“Ditto, but I’m not selling, and I’m not moving.”

Her hands meet the top of her head, and her blue eyes are wild and out of control. “Jack, I will kill you in your sleep. You know that, right?” She gasps. “Oh my hell! Is your bedroom beside mine? What wall is your bedroom on?”

“Um. I don’t know. I don’t know where your bedroom is.” Now I’m starting to freak out too. I hadn’t thought of that. The whole bedroom wall thing. I thought about the apartment walls because of the layout of the building and how the apartments are arranged, but I didn’t think about her bedroom. Maybe I should sell after all. I can’t share a bedroom wall with her. And if she ever brings a man home, well, I’ll probably kill him, but if I’m forced to hear him fucking her, her moan for him the way she did for me on Sunday… no. Absolutely not.

Fuck!

She starts to pace, shaking her head like it’s on a swivel. “No. This cannot be happening. Not with you.” It’s as if she’s echoing my thoughts exactly.

“Sorry there, Cinderella, but this isn’t exactly my fairy tale either.” Far from it.

She turns on me, that finger back out in full force. “Do not tease me, and do not call me that. I am not your Cinderella, and I’m not okay with this.”

I shrug. “Tough shit.”

“God, you’re such a fucking asshole.”

Another shrug because I can’t exactly deny it. Now would be the moment to come clean about the texting, but I think that would push her over the edge, and then she might in fact kill me. But I’m not helping myself here either. I wanted to erase the anger and tension between us and I’m building it up instead. Hell, every time she opens that smart mouth at me, it just makes me want to kiss her more, and I need that to go away.

“I’ll just grab this and go inside and leave you to figure your crazy out.”

“My crazy—wait, that’s not your package. It’s mine.”

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. It’s mine. I got a notification on my phone that my package was delivered.”

“Same for me. It’s mine.”

I roll my eyes at her and bend down, but the label is hardly legible, and most of it has peeled away. All I can see is the address and the number two where the apartment should be, but the letter isn’t fully legible. Wren is B, and I’m D because the first-floor apartments are A and C, which makes no sense, but whatever. I can’t tell if it’s a B or a D on there.

“Let’s just open it and see if it’s mine,” I suggest, and now she’s really losing it.

“No!” She shoves me away from the box. “It’s mine, Jack. Hands off.”

“What’s the big deal? What’s in there that you don’t want me to see?”

“Nothing.” She shoves me again and goes for the box, and even though she’s oddly and freakishly strong for such a small thing, I’m a big guy with a lot of muscle, and she doesn’t push me far. I duck under her arm and make a grab for the box at the same time she snags the opposite end of it. “Oh my god! Let go.” She yanks it toward her.

“You let go.” I jerk it back toward me, but in the process of our tug of war, the tape holding the box together on the bottom pulls away because the box is so wet, and the contents plummet and clatter on the floor.

We both jump back, but I only have a half second to take everything in before Wren shrieks bloody murder and dives over her… vibrators. And dildos. And lube. And… I bend and pick something up that her body isn’t covering. A pink heart-shaped jeweled butt plug.

Lust burns through me, and my cock pulses and throbs in my joggers, and because these bastards are thin, there is no hiding it. But right now, I don’t care, and Wren is too preoccupied with covering her sex toys to notice. Thank God.

“What are these for?” Jealousy, hot and thick, scorches a path up my throat, making it difficult to breathe. Isn’t that what she said she likes? Her kink. Men using toys on her. It’s in one of the books she recommended too. I know because I started reading it and to my surprise, it was really good, and I couldn’t put it down. I nearly finished it last night. “Are you seeing someone?”

It comes out all wrong. Harsh and, well, jealous sounding.

She glares up at me. “None of your business.”

I breathe out through my nose and clench my fists. It does nothing to calm me. “Wren, so help me god, I will take pictures of your toys and send them to your mother if you don’t answer me.”

She snorts. “My mother would probably high-five me.”

True. Fuck! “Your father, then. And Owen,” I tack on, though I think we both know I’m lying. Oddly, she decides to take pity on me.

“No, you asshat. These are for me.”

“All of these?” Because there are at least a half dozen here. She sits back on her haunches, her face red from her rage and embarrassment.

“Yes,” she snaps as she starts to gather them in her hands. “And don’t you dare judge me.”

“Judge you?” I bark with an incredulous half-laugh. “Sweetheart, the last thing I’m doing is judging. I’m too busy trying to decide if I want to tie you up and use them on you until you come so many times you pass out or sit back and watch you do it yourself.” And because every milliliter of blood that’s supposed to be in my brain right now is in my dick, I said that aloud.

Didn’t I just have a mission statement about not touching her? I did, right? It was there. There was a solid reason for it too. But when I look at her like this and see these toys, nothing seems as important as doing every naughty and nice thing to her my dirty mind can come up with.

“If you think I’m going to allow either to happen, you must be high.”

I give her a cocky, Cheshire grin. “That’s not what your kiss said on Sunday.”

And why am I talking this way with her? I’m not touching her, let alone watching or fucking her with toys. Still, the thought has me inwardly groaning. I really need to get laid. And it cannot be with my best friend’s little sister, who also happens to work for me and be my new neighbor. Shit.

She stands. “Give me that.” With her hands full of multicolored sex toys, she snatches the metal plug from my fist. I’m dying right now. I swear, I’ve never been this hard in my life. That plug would look so pretty in her ass with me fucking her cunt.

“Anything they can do, I can do better,” I say because I’m like a sex-crazed teen right now, and the woman I’ve been low-level obsessed or infatuated or whatever you want to call it with is giving my mind the ultimate tease.

She laughs. “I highly, highly doubt that.” As if reading my thoughts, she comes back with, “Besides, we both know you’d never touch me.”

“Again.” I step in her direction, and I need to stop. “I’ll never touch you again.”

“Yes. Thanks for that oh-so-cheerful reminder about one of the worst nights I’ve ever had, Doctor Mistake. Yes, we all know you won’t touch me again,” she emphasizes.

“One of the worst nights?” As in ever? Not just one-night stands?

My chest caves and my stomach drops, but before I can grill her on that, she threatens me with the most sadistic smile I’ve ever seen. “Welcome to the building, neighbor. For your sake, I hope our bedroom walls aren’t connected. I tend to get a bit loud when I come with my toys.” With a wink, she heads back into her apartment and shuts and locks the door behind her.

Well, fuck me running. For the first time in my life, I’m insanely jealous of silicone and metal. And hoping our walls are connected and paper thin. And also not hoping for that. Crap! So much for keeping my distance and ignoring her. That’ll be damn close to impossible now.