Page 35 of Sticky Fingers

Chapter Eleven

Malcolm

Looking at the glowing clock,I note it’s two in the morning. I haven’t been sleeping for very long.

And something woke me the fuck up.

Lying on my back, I listen carefully to the sounds of the building.

Some people use sound machines at night in large multi-family buildings. The creaks, moans, and pops of the risers running through the walls can drive some people crazy and keep them awake. And, of course, some people scream loud enough during sex to wake up an entire city.

That’s my experience with most women, though.

But moans and screams aren’t the reason I’m awake.

I hear it again. The faint pop of tin as a heat duct flexes.

And it isn’t the small pop that you normally hear when the system kicks on and off from the temperature change.

Someone is in the fucking ducts.

And I have a pretty good idea who. There are only a few people I know who could manage that feat.

The system isn’t large. Anyone bigger than a small woman or child would be stuck trying to leave their floor due to the size changes.

Sitting up, I throw the covers off myself and sit still on my bed to listen again. The cool air on my naked skin doesn’t bother me. I don’t even bother to throw on some fucking boxers.

This little hottie is going to learn a fucking lesson.

If she thinks she can sneak in here and invade my space without me knowing, I’m going to treat her like the little fucking thief she is.

The slight creak of flexing ducts has me on my feet and moving towards the door to the bedroom. The direction I hear the muffled noises from makes sense.

The largest cold air return opening comes out in the hall by the dining room. I’m sure she’ll exit the venting at the easiest point.

She must have gotten her hands on the building’s blueprints to be able to navigate around the way she is.

Impressive. Everything about her makes me hard.

Leaning my back against the wall to the side of the vent, I listen to the wall with my head cocked against it.

Yes, she’s definitely coming.

Watching the screws slowly turn in the vent cover makes me smile.

Slowly and painfully, I stand totally still and wait. Watching her carefully grab the vent and lower it to the floor, I realize she has a lot more experience with this than I realized.

She’s skilled, quiet, and quick.

When she’s halfway out the vent, I drop my weight on her from above, pushing her into the floor and using my larger body and more muscle mass to my advantage.

There’s awhoomphas the air escapes her lungs. I use my arms to grab around her and squeeze.

And yeah, I can’t fucking deny it. She feels real good.

Real good.

As good as it feels, I’m still playing it safe. After all, I don’t even know if she has a weapon. I like to think she wouldn’t use one on me—but still.