Chapter 1

A lonely housewife's confession: My new Black neighbor next door has always had his hungry eyes on me. One night, I caught him and a woman going at it on the balcony...

In the middle of the night, he knocked on my door wearing only boxer briefs, demanding that I compensate him for scaring his partner away...

1.

My name is Tessa, and I lived like a neglected, sexually starved housewife.

They say a woman reaches her sexual peak in her late twenties and thirties, but a man's drive drops off a cliff. That couldn't have been truer for my husband, Gavin, and me.

I was only twenty-seven, at the prime of my desires, yet our intimacy had dwindled from twice a week to barely twice a month.

Whenever I initiated things, Gavin brushed me off with excuses about work stress and exhaustion.

Eventually, he stopped touching me altogether.

I was trapped in the shell of a dutiful wife. At night, I had to slip my hand beneath my nightgown just to soothe the burning ache inside me.

The loneliness ate away at me. His constant rejection made me doubt myself. Was I no longer attractive?

Yet I attended yoga and Pilates every single day. The woman in the mirror still had lush curves and full, perky breasts, but Gavin showed zero interest.

Even the most beautiful flower withers without care. Without a man's touch, a woman slowly fades.

The pent-up frustration built inside me like a raging flood, completely uncontrollable. Even touching myself no longer satisfied the hunger.

One morning, I returned from yoga and noticed a new neighbor moving in next door.

Stepping out of the elevator, I caught the rich scent of sweat in the hallway. It wasn't foul at all; instead, it reeked of raw, intoxicating male pheromones.

Curious, I glanced into his open doorway while reaching for my keys.

Inside, a shirtless Black man was doing one-armed push-ups on the hardwood floor. His muscular back rippled with every dip, and his left hand was tucked casually behind his broad waist.

As he moved up and down, I caught glimpses of his chiseled abs and sculpted arms.

My eyes locked onto him, my mind spinning with a single thought.

God, what a powerful, gorgeous man.

Suddenly, his dark eyes locked onto mine. Blushing furiously, I jerked my gaze away and fumbled with my keys, missing the keyhole several times.

I felt mortified, caught red-handed like a desperate voyeur!

He stepped out into the hallway and walked toward me. I nervously looked away to avoid him, yet my eyes involuntarily drifted back to his rock-hard chest.

"Hello there, beautiful. I just moved in. You can call me Jarius!"

He didn't seem bothered by my staring at all. In fact, he greeted me with an easy, flirtatious grin.

"Hi. I'm Tessa," I whispered.

He casually flexed his bicep, his eyes raking over my curves. "Were you enjoying the view just now?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I looked down, completely unable to deny how shamelessly I had been staring.

Jarius chuckled, effortlessly breaking the tension. He leaned against the doorframe, shifting his stance to show off his insane physique even more.

"Want to touch it?" he asked smoothly.

My heart skipped a beat. Part of me wanted to shake my head, but my body froze in temptation.

He looked so solid, so undeniably masculine.

Before my rational mind could stop me, my hand reached out and rested against his warm chest.

His skin was blazing hot, his muscles dense as stone. It made me dizzy with desire.

Suddenly, I felt a large, warm palm firmly cup my ass through my leggings! Jarius had sneaked his hand around my backside without warning!

A shockwave of electricity shot straight down my spine, and I jumped back two steps to break away.

"I'm married," I gasped, trying to sound firm.

Yet despite my words, that sudden, forbidden touch sent a wicked jolt of pleasure straight between my thighs.

Deep down, I actually missed it the second he let go.

Jarius spread his hands innocently. "You touched mine, so I touched yours. Isn't that fair game? Just returning the favor!"

Flustered and irritated by his bold teasing, I stamped my foot.

My instincts told me this man was pure trouble.

Flushing scarlet, I unlocked my door and rushed inside. But before I could slam it shut, his playful voice slipped through the crack.

"Being married doesn't matter! If you ever need a hand, just call me, pretty neighbor!"

What kind of woman did he think I was?!

I was both furious and utterly rattled. But my body couldn't lie; the lingering sensation of his touch had ignited a wild fire in my veins.

All afternoon, the image of Jarius shirtless and his teasing grin replayed in my head like a loop.

Feeling consumed by lust, I stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water, desperate to wash the heat away.

Yet every time I closed my eyes, all I could feel was that thrilling, dirty rush from his touch.

I want it. I need a real man.