But really, it’s the nudies who capture my attention. Even though I live alone, I don’t make a habit of standing nude in front of my window with the light streaming out behind me, like the couple going at it like there’s no tomorrow. I make a mental note to strip off and stare out into the night as soon as I get home to see what I’ve been missing.

“This must be a PI’s dream.” I point at the couple. “I mean…who does that? Don’t they know everyone can see them?”

Ray looks up from the redbrick building on the left he has been watching since we arrived. “Might just be their kink, or they’re just so hot for each other they don’t care. People often forget they can be seen even if they are a few stories up.”

“Their kink?” I shift in my seat as the man, tall and dark with a hard, ripped body, pushes the woman against the window. Hmmm. Not very flattering. Would my ass look like that squashed from behind? From the movement of his arms, I imagine he is squeezing her breasts and my skin prickles. Although I never thought of myself as a voyeur, something about the couple going at it in full view is making me hot. Or maybe it’s Ray, so cool and calm beside me, his jeans a feast of tight seams in all the right places.

The side door to the brick building opens, and he lifts his camera and snaps a picture when a man walks out, but I’m guessing it’s not the object of his interest because he immediately deletes the pictures and drops the camera to his lap.

My stomach tightens, and I squirm in my seat. A naughty part of me hopes it’s not over too soon. Maybe I have a kink I never knew I had. Or maybe I did. Watching us in the mirror at the gym made me feel almost the same way. Slick, desperately aroused, and unable to sit still. Is this normal? Seems to me Peeping Toms are arrested and disparaged by society, so maybe not.

I turn my attention back to the couple in the window. The woman places her hands on the man’s shoulders and slides them around his neck. But he is having none of that. In a heartbeat, he rips her hands away and pins them to the glass above her head with one hand.

I draw in a ragged breath and clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palm. Oh God. That is what I want, what I dream about, what Ray offered me and I couldn’t handle. I shouldn’t want to be dominated after what happened to me. I need passive and gentle, not hard and rough. I need to be understood, not controlled. I’m so damn messed up it isn’t funny. Not normal in any sense of the word.

“Um…are you done?”

“Nope.” Seemingly oblivious to my unchecked arousal, Ray continues to watch the redbrick building and I watch my show. Now the man is sliding his free hand down the woman’s body, cupping the curve of her sex. His touch is not gentle as he pushes her hips against the glass, forcing her up on her toes.

Moisture pools between my thighs and my back arches in the seat. My nipples are tight and hard, clearly visible through my T-shirt, if Ray was so inclined to look, and the urge to slide my hand down between my thighs and relieve the throbbing in my clit is almost overwhelming. I grab the seat belt and snap it in place, giving Ray a wan smile when he frowns.

“Good to be safe at all times.”

From this distance, I can’t see what the man is doing with his hand, but from the way she stiffens against the glass, I imagine his fingers are inside her the way Ray’s fingers were inside me, thrusting and spreading, pressing and curling, pumping into her until her body is coiled tight with need. He bends down and takes her nipple in his mouth and she squirms and writhes against the glass. In my mind I do the same. But it is Ray’s mouth on my nipples, sucking and biting, Ray’s breath in my ear.

Crossing my legs to get some necessary friction where it needs to be, I focus on taking slow, deep breaths and slowly rock my hips as the man pulls away. The woman slumps against the glass and then he grabs her hair and forces her to her knees.

I draw in a sharp breath and everything below my waist turns liquid. Don’t watch. Don’t watch. I shoot a frantic glance over at Ray, now photographing a man in the alley, as I claw my thigh trying to relieve the pressure. “Are you…done? Do you have enough pictures?”

Ray shakes his head. “Shouldn’t be long.”

“Sure.” My voice rises to a squeak. My fevered skin burns, and sweat trickles between my breasts. Normal. Normal. Normal. I repeat the word over and over, a mantra to keep me on the right path.

Ray’s gaze slides to mine, and I thank the city for not installing bright lights in the alley because my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “You okay?”

“Yup. Good. Just…enjoying the view.”

Ray returns to taking pictures of the guy in the alley, who is now talking on his phone. I glance up once again at the couple and…oh my God. He’s holding her head still and fucking her mouth, his hips rocking back and forth as he thrusts. Although her hand is wrapped around his shaft, he is the one in control. My chest tightens and my breath comes in short pants as I remember Ray’s hand in my hair, his cock in my mouth…

“I think I’ll get some air.” I reach for the door handle, and Ray clamps a hand around my wrist.

“Not if you’re wet.”

My heart skitters to a stop. “Pardon?”

“Open for me, beautiful girl.”

A violent shudder wracks my body. This. These words. His authoritative tone. This is what turns me on like nothing else. And it shouldn’t. I should be running as far and fast as possible. “Ray…”