Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Again, I’ll do what you want.”
Okay, he may not have meant that loaded with as much meaning as I interpreted it, but come on. I bet he would do what I want and what he wants. Not going down that road. “We can discuss it tomorrow. My heart is still racing, and I’m not in the right state of mind.”
“Or even dressed,” he adds, and I give him a dark look.
“That’s not your business.”
He gives me a little half smile. “You’re right, but it’s hard to ignore.” I glare at him, and he grins wider. “Anyway, I locked the front door, roomie.”
“I’m not your roomie,” I retort, my gaze narrowing. “You’re a guy, and I’m a girl.”
Why in the hell did I say that?
His eyes are playful and sinful. “I am well aware of what our sexes are, Austen.” Oh, sweet Jesus. I’m not sure what has my stomach clenching like a vise more—the way he says “sex” or my name. Either way, I find myself breathless, which is downright ridiculous. I shouldn’t be affected by him like this. He is nothing to me, nor will he be.
Yet, my body is vibrating with awareness of him. How could it not? He is a very striking, good-looking guy. Dark and mysterious, but that doesn’t matter. I have things to do, goals to meet, and I can’t be distracted by someone like him. I don’t have the time or the patience. Plus, from what Shelli described, his actions remind me of those of the men from New Beginnings, and that’s the last thing I want. I got away from that. I don’t ever want to be in that position again.
“And I’m super thankful you know too,” he adds with a wink, and I’m breathless once more. “Goodnight, roomie.”
My retort doesn’t fall from my lips because I know there is no point. I glare at his retreating back as he heads toward his room. When the door shuts, I let out the breath I guess I was holding the entire last interaction with him. I glance down at his broken Xbox, and my grip on my eye mask tightens as I let my head fall back. A sigh leaves my lips, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart to slow.
Yeah, there’s no way in hell I can live with him.
eight
Dimitri
I didn’t sleep for shit.
My room was neatly put together—other than the boxes—my bed was comfortable, but my mind couldn’t be slowed. Nor could my body. Energy coursed through my veins, and I couldn’t relax. I was tight and hot everywhere. It was irritating, especially when I knew the source of my dismay was in the room next to me. I had a million questions, and my curiosity got the best of me.
Between tossing and turning, I Googled my roommate. Austen McDavid. I looked for her social media, her LinkedIn, her anything, and found nothing. All I found was her name under General Manager on the Knoxville Bears site. No bio, no photo, no nothing. It’s odd, almost as if she doesn’t really exist. If I hadn’t checked to make sure my Xbox was damaged, I would have believed I dreamed last night.
But I know it wasn’t a dream. My body can attest to that. As I stand in front of the mirror, only a towel around my hips, I see a bluish-black bruise covering my bicep. Along my leg is a bigger one, and I didn’t even realize she got me in my jaw until I leaned in to oil my ’stache. She must have gotten me with the blade since I can see a cut with some discoloration around it. I am as busted as my Xbox, but man if I don’t want to know more about her. Only thing I know is she is deadly with a stick and her name is Austen.
Austen.
I knew she was named after Jane Austen, and seeing her name on the website confirmed that. The “E” where the “I” should be is just as hot as the way her thighs touched under that little white tee she wore. She has some killer thighs, and man, I wish I had been able to watch her walk away. I bet she has an ass to match those thick thighs. The convenience of having a hot roommate has my body burning, but I have this strange, nagging sensation of wanting to get to know her. Which is pathetic and beyond ridiculous. I have things to do, and the last thing I need is to be distracted by a hockey-stick-swinging, no-social-media hottie.
Or do I think she’s hot because I haven’t gotten any lately?
Suddenly, the bathroom door opens, and as my gaze moves to where she is, my brow perks at the look on Austen’s face. My toothbrush hangs from my mouth as I rub lotion into my chest and shoulders. Her eyes widen, her face flushes, but just as quickly as her lips part, she snaps them shut tight. I take her in. Same white tee, thighs and hard nips on display. Not even the chill that runs up my legs from her open door cools me off. Hm. Yeah, it isn’t that I haven’t gotten laid that has me finding her very attractive. It’s her eyes. Wide as quarters, her pupils are dark and drowning in pools of honey.