I wasn't supposed to be there. That's what made it so thrilling.
It started with a simple message:
"Wanna come over? Just Netflix and chill. No pressure." Eli
But chill had never sounded so dangerous.
Eli was my neighbor not just next door, but the guy who lived across the hall with a record for walking around shirtless while watering his houseplants like a softcore fantasy. We'd exchanged hellos, flirted awkwardly in the elevator, and once shared a cab in the rain when my car wouldn't start. That was it.
Until tonight.
I told myself I'd keep it casual. Just a movie. Just neighbors. No expectations.
But when I knocked on his door, the low thud of my heartbeat was louder than my fist.
Eli opened it wearing grey sweatpants and a worn tee that clung to his chest. He smelled like cedarwood and popcorn, and smiled like he already knew I wouldn't be leaving early.
"Hey," he said, stepping aside. "Glad you came."
I stepped into the warm, dim apartment. Lights off, only the TV's glow flickering across the living room. A soft throw blanket waited on the couch. Two mugs of hot cocoa steamed on the coffee table.
He really meant Netflix.
"What are we watching?" I asked, pretending my stomach wasn't in knots.
"Something terrible," he said. "So we don't get too invested in the plot."
I smirked. "Smart."
He sat first, legs wide, relaxed in that easy way that guys like Eli were born knowing. I sat beside him, careful not to brush his knee. The movie started some cheesy horror flick and for a while, we didn't talk. Just sipped cocoa, laughed at bad dialogue, and sat there closer than strangers, not yet lovers.
Halfway through the film, the tension turned electric.
It was in the way his arm rested just behind me on the couch. The way his thigh shifted and brushed mine. The way I caught him glancing at my mouth every time I laughed.
He didn't move fast.
But he leaned a little closer.
"You cold?" he asked, voice low.
"A little," I admitted, heart hammering.
He pulled the blanket over both of us, his arm naturally settling around my shoulders. I felt his fingers grazing the bare skin of my upper arm, slow and deliberate.
"Better?" he murmured.
I nodded, but the heat in my chest had nothing to do with the blanket.
Minutes passed.
Then his hand shifted just enough to brush my collarbone. Then lower, a thumb lightly stroking along my shoulder. He was asking in his own way. Waiting for the signal.
I turned toward him.
Our eyes met in the dim light. His lips parted slightly.
"I'm not just here for the movie," I said.
Eli smiled, slow and dangerous.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
He leaned in no hesitation now and kissed me.
It wasn't innocent. It was the kiss of someone who'd imagined it for weeks and finally got permission. His hand slid into my hair, mouth claiming mine with a quiet hunger. My hands found his chest, warm and firm beneath his shirt, and I let myself fall into the moment.
He pulled me closer, and the blanket slipped away, forgotten. The movie still played in the background, but we weren't watching anymore.
Eli kissed like he touched his plants with attention, care, and the occasional roughness that made you gasp.
I climbed into his lap, straddling him, needing to feel him against me. Our hips met with friction and heat, and he groaned into my mouth.
"I've wanted this," he said, breathless. "Since the first time you knocked on my door."
I tugged at his shirt, and he let me peel it off. Then it was just skin his chest, my thighs, our mouths connecting again and again.
The couch became our playground. His hands explored me with reverence and heat, slipping beneath my shirt, skimming over the waistband of my leggings. I trembled beneath his touch not from nerves, but anticipation.
Still, he didn't rush.
His lips kissed down my throat, then lower, pausing between kisses to whisper, "Okay?"
I nodded, breathless. "God, yes."
And then his hands slid lower, pulling me closer, guiding me into something slow, sensual, deep.
It wasn't just sex.
It was build-up. Long looks. Fingers lingering. Mouths tasting. Quiet moans. The low thrum of the TV fading beneath the sound of breathless want.
Eli made the night feel sacred.
When it was over, we lay tangled on the couch, the movie credits long finished. His fingers traced idle circles on my back. I rested my head on his chest.
"Think we'll actually watch something next time?" I asked, smirking.
Eli chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"Probably not."
His laugh vibrated through his chest, warm against my cheek. I closed my eyes, savoring the steady beat of his heart beneath me. It was comforting in a way I hadn't expected, like slipping into a rhythm I'd secretly been waiting for.
Silence settled around us, but it wasn't awkward. Just easy. Just ours.
I shifted slightly, tracing lazy patterns on his skin with my fingertip. "You planned this, didn't you?"
Eli tilted his head toward me, a teasing glint in his eyes. "What gave me away? The cocoa? Or the world's worst horror movie?"
I smirked, nudging him lightly. "Both."
"Maybe," he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Or maybe I just like having an excuse to keep you close."
My breath caught. The playfulness in his voice was there, but so was something deeper, something he hadn't meant to confess but did anyway.
I studied him in the glow of the fading TV screen. "You could've just asked, you know."
He shook his head, smiling crookedly. "I didn't want to scare you off. You've got this… way about you. Like if I pushed too hard, you'd disappear."
His honesty disarmed me. I'd always thought of Eli as the confident one, the neighbor who carried himself like he owned the floor we lived on. But right now, beneath my hands, he was just a man hoping I wouldn't walk away.
"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered.
His hand tightened gently on my waist, pulling me closer. "Good. Because I don't think I can pretend this was nothing."
The words hit me harder than I expected. I had walked across the hall tonight thinking it was just a fling, a risk I'd let myself take because it felt thrilling. But now, wrapped up in him, I realized the danger wasn't in the kiss or the sex. The danger was how much I already wanted more.
I tilted up and kissed him again, softer this time, slower. A promise more than a question.
When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine. "Stay tonight," he murmured. "Don't make me watch another bad movie alone."
I smiled, settling back against his chest. "As long as you make the cocoa again."
He chuckled, his arm tightening around me as if he was afraid I'd vanish.
Outside, the city moved on, cars honking, footsteps echoing in the hall, but inside, time felt suspended. Two neighbors, no longer strangers, tangled together in a story neither of us had planned to start.
And as sleep pulled me under, the last thought in my mind wasn't about the risk or the rules we might have broken.
It was simpler than that.
I wanted to knock on his door again tomorrow.
And the day after that.