Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
"Why would I agree to let you have my guest room?"
"With your bed in it," he repeats. "Because-"
"If you say that I owe you, I'll claw your pretty eyes out."
He grins like he's already won this battle.
"You're a kind human," he says instead. "Seriously, I'm a good roommate."
Roommate. The word rolls off his tongue so easily, despite the fact that he's made me come more than once with that very same muscle.
"I can't believe I'm even entertaining this idea," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. Honestly, the thrill of him being right down the hall, the possibility that he'll slink into my room in the middle of the night and wrap his meaty hands around my thighs, is all too appealing. "The duplexes aren't that bad."
He scoffs as if what I've said is positively ridiculous, and I know he's right. I've seen the duplexes. Most of them don't even have full-sized refrigerators, much less enough room to prepare a decent meal. I'd have to downsize my cooking supplies, and the thought of that makes me want to weep.
"You have to promise not to get in my way," I demand, wishing I was looking away rather than witnessing the smile that spreads across his handsome face. "And you go to the hotel if you plan on hooking up with someone."
"Perfect," he says as he backs off the porch.
I close the door, wondering what I've just agreed to, but I only have a minute to myself before there's another knock on the door.
I pull it open to find Mac standing there with a duffle bag in his hand.
He walks past me and into the house like he owns the place.
"What's for dinner?"
"Mac?" I growl, but he simply chuckles and heads down the hall to the guest bedroom.
I busy myself pulling dishes from the dishwasher and putting them away. If he plans to switch out the beds, then he can do it all by himself, but rather than hear the scrapping of metal across floorboards when I head back toward my room several minutes later, I hear the hall shower running.
"Riley," he yells as I cross in front of the bathroom.
Before I can scurry away, the door opens, a billow of steam escaping at his back.
"Can you grab me the shampoo from my bag? The shit in here smells like a fruit salad. I'd catch shit on the job site if I show up smelling like that."
"You said I wouldn't even notice that you're here," I remind him, doing my best not to look lower than his face because I know the man is standing there stark-ass naked.
"This is the only time I'll bother you," he promises. "But can you grab my shave kit as well?"
"You said you were a good roommate," I mutter, but I walk away and go into the guest bedroom and grab his stuff.
I knock on the bathroom door.
"I've got your stuff."
The door opens, but instead of him taking the stuff from my hand, he grips my forearm and drags me into the steamy bathroom with him.
Chapter 16
Mac
Minutes is all failure took.
I tried not to notice the outline of her nipples in that thin cotton shirt she had on, but the dampness from the steam left me with no other choice but to do something about it.
I swear I had no fucking intention of dragging her into this bathroom.
I was going to stay in the guest bedroom and keep my hands to myself. I know I can't control my thoughts that always end up with the two of us horizontal, but I thought I had better control over my actions.
Seems I'm a failure at that as well, but with her standing here blinking up at me expectantly rather than shoving at my chest and leaving the bathroom, I don't think I can call this a failure either.
"This was driving me crazy," I say, sweeping my thumbs over the peaks of her nipples, the cotton of her shirt still separating us from skin-on-skin contact.
"You're naked," she whispers, her hands clenching in fists at her sides rather than running over my body.
"Do you shower with clothes on?" I joke.
"Mac," she whispers, but she doesn't argue when I tug up the hem of her shirt.
"These tits," I say once the fabric is clear of her body.
I toss it to the floor where my own clothes were discarded before cupping both breasts in my hands.
She moans as her head tilts back, eyes closed as if the warmth of my hands on her skin is all she's ever wanted.
We shouldn't be doing this.
I shouldn't have knocked on her door and asked her to let me stay here.
The most fucked up part of it all is that I don't know that I wouldn't have ended up right here even if the bed at the hotel wasn't horrible.