Omerta- Book I (Winner of the 2015 People's Choice Award)

3) Tigrotto

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        Needless to say, I felt like a freaking murderer, dragging the 230 plus pounds of my unconscious muscular neighbor across his own luxurious wooden floors. Briefly, I had scoped out the house and decided it was best to bring him into his bedroom. I figured I would also tie him up before he woke up and slaughtered my ass. 

I was so screwed.

In situations like this, you have to be a certain type of person. A fit person, that is. I had a nice figure, with some curves and a decently sized chest. My butt wasn't anything to brag about, but regardless, compliments still sometimes came my way...

The point of the matter was, even though I wasn't a twig, hauling Neighbor from Hell's body onto his own bed was still close to impossible. He was a dead weight, and believe me, the fact that my extremely hormonal self had to have my fingers wrapped around the hot-to-the-touch, thick tan biceps of the most gorgeous man I had ever encountered in my lifetime, didn't help much with the situation.

But, I digress; I still would not give up. Music was still blaring in his apartment, shaking the walls, and I was thankful for that because A), that meant nobody heard me hit him with a plate, and B), the fast, rock and roll soundtrack gave me the motivation to complete my task at hand. 

The wound on his head was pretty nasty, saturating a good portion of his face in bright red blood and leaving a trail behind us into his bedroom. The good person in me wanted to nurse him back to health, but the smart person knew that it was time to drag him onto the bed and then find something to tie him to the back and front boards of his bed. 

Creating friction between my hands and pretend spitting into each of them, I stood over Neighbor from Hell's unconscious body and gripped him under his arms, ignoring the fact that our faces were inches apart. With one mega pull upwards, I hauled his upper body onto the bed, pushed forward with my legs, and then managed to get 2/3 of his body onto the thick, unbelievably soft black comforter on his bed. I then hopped on the bed and dragged his body the rest of the way onto his head touched the pillows. 

"That was the most exercise I've done in nine years," I panted out, sliding off the bed and searching through the room for something to tie Neighbor from Hell down. I slowly opened one of his closets, expecting a dead body to be inside. There wasn't, and idea came to me. Neighbor from Hell owned dozens upon dozens of different colored fancy-smancy dress ties neatly hung up on the inside of the door. I grabbed a fistful of them with bloody fingers and hurried back to the bed. After a few minutes of trying to get my trembling fingers to work properly, I tied the unconscious man down to the bed like a starfish and admired my own work.

I was so going to Hell. 

And jail...

Still, I wasn't a bad person. Looking for a first aid kit, I was astounded to find that this mysterious man also had one of the nicest bathrooms ever, with a black tiled shower and bathtub that had a built in waterfall and numerous buttons, that looked as if it was meant to fit six people. What the hell was a rich ass man doing in a shitty apartment building?

Hiding, I thought.

I searched through Neighbor from Hell's shaving products and cologne, fighting the urge to smell them and inhale his masculine scents. God, was there anything hotter than a man who had a good taste in cologne?

Finally, I found a first aid kit and a clean rag. I put some soap and water on the rag and went back into the bedroom, gently cleaning up Neighbor from Hell's wound and then patting it dry. After close examination, I decided, once all the blood was all of the way, that he probably wouldn't need stitches. I cleaned the wound more with some antiseptic and applied a soft, white gauze pad onto the wound and a Band-Aid on a small scrap on his cheek.