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But I still want to shag her.
Grumbling, I hurry back into my house and spend the next hour exercising. Sweat soaks my shirt, but I donnae care. That woman drives me insane in every way, but especially with her body. Ashley knows I want her, and she uses that to manipulate me. If she means to live across the street from me, I will need to find a way to release my lust. So aye, I'll exercise until I can't do anything except collapse in bed. That ought to stop me from sneaking over to her house after dark to fuck her.
That would be giving her what she wants. So no, I will not do that. If she sneaks into my house… Even Ashley Hartman isn't that daft.
Is she?
After an hour of working out, I don't feel any less enraged and randy. I take a shower and relieve my lust for that woman on my own, but even wanking off doesn't help. I need to make that woman leave the country. How will I do that? She harasses and stalks me, so… Oh, aye. I've got a brilliant idea. I'll harass her right back.
So I march over to Ashley's house and knock on the door. When it swings open, my jaw drops. The lass is wearing a string bikini. "What in the world are ye doing?"
"It's a beautiful day, so I'm going to sunbathe on the lawn."
"What?" I can't stop staring at her body, especially her tits. "People do that in their backyards, not on the front lawn."
She shrugs. "I prefer the lawn. If I decide to sunbathe in the nude, I'll go into the backyard."
In the nude? She said that just to fash me, I'm sure. My dokey is waking up at the mention of nudity, but I will not have a poke with Ashley. She's even more insane than I thought. Who sunbathes on their front lawn?
"Did you have something else to say?" Ashley asks. "Or did you come over here just to complain about my bikini?"
All I can do is splutter. She's wearing the tiniest so-called bikini I've ever seen. It hardly qualifies as swimwear, or even lingerie. After a bit more spluttering, I manage to say, "Ye cannae go out on the lawn in that outfit."
"Why not?"
"It's—Ye just cannae."
She grabs a pair of sunglasses off the table beside the door and snags a wide-brimmed hat from a coat rack nearby. Then she sidles past me. "Mind grabbing that lawn chaise for me?"
"What lawn chaise?"
"The one behind the door."
My brain still hasn't recovered from seeing her in a bikini, so I wind up obeying her command. I get the folded-up chair and carry it onto the lawn for her. I even unfold it for the lass while she watches. Her lips tick up at the corners, and she rests her hands on her hips.
"Thank you, Errol," she says as she lies down on the chaise, wriggling to get in the right position. "Feel free to join me."
"I donnae sunbathe."
"Too bad. I've love to see you in a skimpy pair of swim briefs." She tips her head down and peers at me over the rims of her sunglasses. "Or nothing at all."
I spin around and stalk back to my house, slamming the door behind me. Why am I breathing hard? I didn't run across the street. I walked. Swiftly. When I head into the living room, movement outside draws my attention to the house across the way.
Ashley is lying there on her chaise, enjoying the sunshine.
Bod an Donais, that woman is the bonniest, sexiest lass on earth. But if she thinks her bikini will make me crack, she's in for a rude surprise. Her evil plan won't work. Aye, I'd rushed over there determined to harass her and give the woman a piece of mind. But I wound up carrying her chaise for her. That doesn't bode well for my revenge plan.
I keep standing there by the window, relishing the view of Ashley Hartman's body. My feet refuse to move. My eyes refuse to stop staring. I clench my fists while my cock stiffens. Knowing she decided to sunbathe strictly to harass me does not help me fight off the need to feel her slick, hot flesh wrapped around myslat.
My mobile rings.
I dig it out of my pocket and mutter a gruff hello while I keep staring at Ashley.
"Are ye all right,gràidh?" my mother asks. "Ye donnae sound like yourself."
"I'm fine, Ma." But my rough tone belies that statement, and my mother is not stupid.
She clucks her tongue. "You haven't come home for dinner in almost a month. Since I only live twenty minutes away, ye have no excuse for neglecting your widowed mother."
