I pant heavily, feeling a pair of hands pinch and squeeze at my nipples. I arch my back, glancing down to see shaggy hair between my legs. A lick on my clit makes me moan, throwing my head back in pleasure.
Fuck..
A loud engine revs outside, jolting me awake. I sit up in bed, panting, beads of sweat on my forehead. My body is still trembling. Looking out the window, I spot the man who moved in next door a month ago, working on his motorcycle.
Since he arrived, I've gotten used to the constant hum of engines and the scent of motor oil, but the dreams - those I can't seem to shake. He looks like he was pulled out of an exotic playgirl magazine, all tattoos, muscles, and godlike features.
My phone buzzes with a text from my best friend Riya. "Still hiding from the hot neighbor?"
I roll my eyes, typing back, "I'm not hiding. I'm being practical."
"Practical is what's made you single at 25. Live a little, Daze." Sighing, I close the message without responding. Riya means well, but she doesn't understand.
I haven't introduced myself since he moved in, and honestly, I don't plan to. Men like him don't notice women like me - the quiet ones who spend most of their time tending gardens and reading books. I drag myself out of the bed and into the cool shower.
After dressing in a pink sundress, I leave my dark hair damp and I make my way to the kitchen. I began my daily coffee and as I waited, the thought of bringing him a cup crossed my mind. But I'm not that brave, not even a little.
I sip my coffee, glancing at the weather forecast - sunny and warm, Perfect for some gardening. I have not tended to my flowers in weeks, mostly because he's always outside working on his motorcycle, but I can't ignore them forever. Stepping outside, I hear faint music from next door but I do my best to ignore it.
I grab my gardening tools from the porch and head to the front yard. I kneel among my flowers, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the sudden rev of his motorcycle draws my attention like a magnet. He's testing the engine, each press of the clutch making his muscles flex. The sight of him straddling the massive machine, looking like a sin incarnate, sends shivers down my spine.
"Focus, Daisy," I mutter to myself.
Forcing my attention back to my garden, I began the work of pruning dead branches and clearing invasive weeds. My poor plants have suffered from my recent neglect, but thirty minutes of dedicated care starts to restore their former glory. Standing to examine my work, I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm, pleased with the transformation.
Hearing music next door has stopped, and the silence makes me oddly nervous. I risk a glance toward his house and find him lounging on his porch steps, a glass of something amber in his hand, his eyes fixated directly on me. A small gasp escapes my lips as I quickly look away, heat flooding my cheeks.
Has he been watching me this whole time?
My spine straightens automatically as I try to act natural, heading to the side of my house to retrieve the water hose. I can feel his burning gaze following my movements, making my skin tingle. From the corner of my eye, I notice him moving, but my attempt to track him while appearing not to lead to my foot getting caught in the coiled hose, and I go down hard.
Just my luck.
"Ow fuck" I mutter, pain shooting through my palms and knees on impact.
I hear the gate open and close, and I hope it's someone else who witnessed my fall. Heavy boots appeared in my line of sight, following them up, past worn denim legs, past a tank top with a chain hanging, up to a face that looked down at me with concern. Of course, it would be him.
"Are you okay Petal?" His voice is deep and rough, like aged whiskey, and the unexpected nickname makes my pulse skip. My cheeks start to burn and I quickly look down,
"I'm fine... I can be clumsy sometimes" I whisper, trying to stand, but pain shoots up my leg, making me stumble. He's quick to catch me.
"Slow and steady," he murmurs, his voice calm and reassuring. His hand grips my waist, steadying me, and the scent of motor oil and liquor surrounds me.
It's intoxicating.
"Thank you... I don't know how that happened" the lie tastes bitter on my tongue as I glance down at my dirt stained dress.
"Gotta watch where you're going next time" he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, and I bite my lip, knowing ive been caught.
"Right... I, um, I will." My stammering draws a low chuckle from him, and I look up to find him watching me with a subtle smirk. His eyes trail down my body causing me to tense slightly, and his expression suddenly shifts to concern.
"You're bleeding." He crouches beside me, hand hovering near my knee. "I'm gonna check it, okay?" He intently looks at me, waiting for permission.
I nod absently, not trusting my voice, my pulse quickening as his rough fingers slide against my hot skin, carefully lifting my dress above my knee. I feel the warmth of the blood trickling down as it's exposed to the cool breeze. Our eyes lock for a moment, the air between us growing thick with unspoken tension. He breaks first, looking down to examine the injury, and I release a shaky breath.
"It's just a little scrape, You'll keep your leg" he jokes, his smile softening his rugged features, and I manage a faint smile. "I've seen worse in my shop."
"You're a mechanic?" I manage to ask, grateful for any distraction from his proximity.
"In a way... custom motorcycles mostly," he says vaguely, clearly not thrilled to have this conversation.
He removes his tank top without another word, revealing his chest covered in intricate tattoos that tell stories I suddenly want to know. He doesn't seem to notice, his muscles rippling as he wipes the blood away causing me to flinch- partly from the pain, partly from the intimate contact. The sight of him, so close, is almost too much to bear as he skillfully ties the shirt around my knee.
"All patched up," he says, standing. I quickly averted my eyes, embarrassed by how long I stared.
"Th-thanks," I mumble, feeling my face flush. The thoughts I was having were enough to make a succubus blush.
"My pleasure, Petal." His smirk suggests that he knows exactly the effect he's having on me. The moment breaks when his phone rings and his expression turns serious as he answers with a gruff greeting. After a brief exchange, he ends the call with a sigh.
"I have to go, but it was nice meeting you..." He raises a brow expectantly as if silently asking for my name.
"Daisy... it's... I'm Daisy" I fumble over my words like an idiot. He chuckles softly, clearly amused by my nerves
"Keenan. Until next time Daisy," the way he says it sounds like a promise, his eyes lingering on my face before he turns away.
I watch him mount his motorcycle, my skin still tingling where he touched me. He gives me one last look before roaring away, leaving me standing in my garden with a racing heart and a distinct feeling that my quiet simple life is about to become much more interesting