Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Today was pure torment, as was the night when we fell asleep on the couch and woke with me on top of him. Thankfully, we both had laundry to do today, and Crew had a pile of paperwork to work his way through, so we were semi-distracted from the fact that I knew the shape and size of his prize and he’d tasted mine.
I can hardly believe he did that.
I can hardly believe I initiated it.
But right now? Torture!
We’re attempting to cook dinner together. A very domestic thing to do when neither of us is gifted with such skills. I mean… I can cook, but I stick to box foods and quick desserts, which is why we’re listening to the voice clips my mom sent over and over again while we try and make her famous rice meatballs.
Crowding into the small space is bad for my sanity. Every few minutes, his arm touches me, reaches around me, pulls me in.
It’s intoxicating.
He is intoxicating.
And addicting.
And he thinks so slick…
Crew grips the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head, throwing it to the side somewhere as he steps back up to the counter, leaving him in nothing but a black tank top.
My eyes dart to the heavy bulges of his arm, the sharp dips of his muscles flexing as he rubs his palm over his cotton-covered chest. “All right, I think the balls are nice and tight, don’t you?” He lazily slides his eyes my way, playing nonchalant when he knows my eyes are growing greedy.
He’s being cute, testing me, and yes, his body is ten times more exotic than it used to be, hints of tattoos painted along his skin peeking from under his tank. I’ve yet to have the chance to explore him bare chested, at least not in years, but where he’s new to the art of restraint, I am not. So I flip the script a bit, dipping my finger in the warming marinara—canned, of course, we’re not magicians.
As expected, his attention snaps to my lips, and he frowns, throwing out his favorite word. “Stop.”
I do it again, drawing it to my tongue. “What?”
He grabs my wrist so fast, I nearly fall, laughing as I’m tugged into his body.
Is this real life? Me and him, flirting and on the edge of tearing each other’s clothes off, in the kitchen we share? Alone?
Me and the boy I’ve always wanted but could never live up to.
Crew closes his lips around my fingers, sucking them slowly and scraping his teeth along the tip on each one.
My core pulses, and he smirks, then steps back and slides the tray of meatballs into the air fryer.
“Says it takes thirteen minutes, if you want to go take a cold shower right quick.”
“No, I’m good, maybe I’ll lose a couple layers, like you.” I start to pull my top up, but then there’s a knock at the door and my actions are halted.
Crew looks from the door to me, and I shrug, heading over to open it.
Jess stands on the other side, piping hot pizzas in his hand. He grins, but my expression must give away my confusion because his face falls.
“You forgot,” he says.
I totally forgot.
“No, I… okay, yes, but we haven’t eaten yet, so it’s fine, right?” I look toward the kitchen, where Crew stands perfectly still, staring right at me.
My attention is pulled back to Jess when he says, “We?”
“Yeah, uh.” I push the door open more, but Jess doesn’t move. Neither does Crew. “You met Crew, my roommate.”
“Roommate.”
I’m not sure who says it first, but the title echoes from both their lips, seconds after leaving mine, and suddenly, my stomach swims with nerves.
“Come in!” My words are too fast, too upbeat, and my hand flings out like a concertmaster at the end of an orchestra.
Slowly, with shuffling feet, Jess makes his way inside. He eyes Crew as he heads for the table to set the double-stacked pizzas down, but Crew’s too busy burning a hole through the side of my head to notice.
I look to him and his eyes narrow further.
“I bought another bottle of that wine you liked, but I didn’t want to bring it over without asking you first. I know how you get about having alcohol in the house.” Jess grins, cutting a quick glance to Crew.
A small frown builds along my brow, but I wipe it away.
Why did he say that and look right at Crew?
Clearing my throat, I close the door, rubbing my hands on my thighs anxiously.
Why am I anxious? Jess is my friend, and Crew is my, well, Crew.
There should be no awkwardness to speak of, yet tension tightens the air in the room.
Surprisingly, it’s Crew who steps forward first, bare chest and all.
“We didn’t exactly meet.” He eyes Jess, offering him his hand.