The summer night hung heavy, a velvet curtain of heat draped over the small coastal town. The air smelled of salt and jasmine, and the distant crash of waves against the shore was a rhythm that pulsed in time with Lila’s heartbeat. She stood on her balcony, the gauzy white dress clinging to her sweat-damp skin, the hem fluttering against her thighs. Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews drifted from her open window, its sultry melody wrapping around her like a lover’s touch.

The house across the narrow street was dark except for one window, where a soft glow spilled out, framing the silhouette of a man.

Elliot.

She didn’t know his last name, only that he’d moved in a month ago—a quiet stranger with tousled dark hair and eyes that seemed to see too much. She’d caught him watching her once, his gaze lingering as she watered her garden, and the memory of it sent a shiver through her now, pooling heat low in her belly.

You’ve got your ball, you’ve got your chain...

Lila leaned against the balcony railing, her fingers tracing the curve of her hip, imagining his hands there instead. She was alone, but the idea of him watching made her bold. She let the strap of her dress slip down her shoulder, the fabric catching just above her breast, teasing the edge of exposure. Her breath hitched as she glanced at his window, wondering if he was there, hidden in the shadows, seeing her.

Inside his house, Elliot stood frozen, a glass of whiskey forgotten in his hand. He hadn’t meant to watch, but her movement on the balcony had drawn him like a moth to flame. The way she swayed to the music, the way her dress hugged her curves—it was intoxicating. His pulse pounded, a primal rhythm that matched the song’s beat.

Sweet like candy to my soul...

He shouldn’t be here, staring like some voyeur, but he couldn’t look away.

Lila’s fingers trailed lower, skimming the hem of her dress, lifting it slightly to expose the smooth skin of her thigh. She imagined him crossing the street, climbing the stairs, his hands rough and urgent. The thought made her bolder. She turned, letting the dress fall completely, pooling at her feet, leaving her in only a pair of sheer lace panties. The night air kissed her bare skin, and she shivered—not from cold, but from the thrill of being seen.

Elliot’s breath caught, his grip tightening on the glass. She was a vision—soft curves and reckless abandon, her body an offering to the night. His body responded, arousal coiling tight, his jeans suddenly too constricting. He set the glass down, his hand trembling, and stepped closer to the window, drawn by the magnetic pull of her.

Crash into me...

Lila’s fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding the slick heat between her thighs. She gasped, her head tilting back, her lips parting as she touched herself—slow, deliberate—imagining his mouth there instead. The song’s lyrics curled through her mind:

Hike up your skirt a little more, and show your world to me...

—and she did, pushing the panties down her legs, letting them fall. She was bare now, vulnerable and powerful, her fingers circling, teasing, her breath coming in soft moans.

Elliot’s control snapped. He crossed the room in three strides, threw open his door, and was out on the street before he could second-guess himself. The distance between their houses was nothing—a few steps fueled by raw need. He climbed her stairs two at a time, his heart hammering, and found her door ajar, the music spilling out like an invitation.

Lila heard the creak of the stairs and froze, her hand still between her thighs, her body thrumming with anticipation. When Elliot appeared in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes dark with hunger, she didn’t flinch. She met his gaze, her lips curving into a slow, daring smile.

“You were watching,” she said, her voice low, teasing.

“I couldn’t stop,” he admitted, his voice rough, stepping inside. The air between them crackled, electric. “You’re ... fuck, you’re everything.”

“Then come here,” she whispered, beckoning him with a tilt of her head, her fingers still glistening from her touch.

He crossed the room in an instant, his hands finding her waist, pulling her against him. His mouth crashed into hers—desperate and consuming, tasting of whiskey and want. She moaned into the kiss, her hands tugging at his shirt, needing his skin against hers. He yanked it over his head, tossing it aside, and her nails raked down his chest, drawing a low groan from him.