Friendship. Our friendship. How can he act so casual when he’s burning up a wave of desire inside of me?
I fling myself on my bed, my hands on my heart, feeling the rapid beat of it as I stare up at the ceiling. Why is he the nicest guy ever? And why would I even think he would ask me to suck his cock? He’s not that kind of douchey. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to suck his dick . . .
No, that can’t be it, can it? I’m not a huge dick to the mouth kind of girl.
Oh God, am I crushing on my roommate?
Images flash through my mind.
Tucker shirtless.
Tucker smiling over his morning coffee.
Tucker’s deodorant that I’ve sniffed a few times . . . make that every morning.
Shit, I’m crushing on my roommate.
I’m crushing on Tucker Jameson.
This is bad. This is really bad.
Chapter Twelve
TUCKER
I don’t think I’ve been this enthusiastic in a really long time. And over a piece of furniture. No, scratch that, I’m not necessarily excited about the piece of furniture, more excited about the look on Emma’s face when she sees said piece of furniture.
When I heard our local furniture store was having a sale, I went down and took a look at what they had in stock. Lucky for me, I found a dark grey couch that would fit perfectly in my empty living room. The cost was reasonable, the delivery was free, well, besides the beer I owe Racer for helping me bring it into the house, but now, standing in my living room, looking at the piece of furniture, I can’t help but wonder if Emma will approve.
I’ve never picked out a piece of furniture from a store before. I have no decorating style whatsoever, so I picked a color I liked and made sure it was comfortable. The comfortable part was the most important factor. I hate stiff sofas. They’re meant to be good enough to sleep on.
Nervously, I pace the living room, occasionally looking out the window every few minutes. It’s past eight. She should be home by now. She’s never home this late. What the hell is she doing?
I pick up my phone to see if I missed any messages from her but there is nothing. I’m about to call her when I see a car pull onto our street and when the headlights flash down the driveway, my stomach flips and my nerves kick into overdrive.
She’s home.
Home.
Up until now, I haven’t considered this place my home. How is it that with Emma living here, it actually feels like home to me?
Maybe because she brings a certain light to the dreary dungeon I’ve created between these walls.
I go to the side door where I open it and stick my head out to greet her. When she sees me, her gorgeous smile lights up her face. That smile, that thick, lush hair, those kind eyes.
Emma.
The girl I grew up with, the girl who I’m now sharing a house with, temporarily at least.
“Hey there.” She shuts her car door, her nursing books are close to her chest, and her backpack is slung over one shoulder. “Is this a new rule? Must meet roommate at door?”
Yes, because you came home to me.
“No.” I take her books and backpack from her and step to the side so she can walk inside. “I have something to show you.”
Looking a little skeptical, she steps into the kitchen and turns around to face me as she takes off her coat. Underneath, she’s wearing her blue nursing scrubs, a pale blue that makes her eyes shine. “You have something to show me, should I be scared? It’s not a bunch of guys with small dicks for the magazine we talked about, is it?”
I laugh and set her gear on the counter. “No. And if that’s something you’re expecting me to do for you, find a bunch of mini wieners, you’re going to be sadly disappointed. Not my forte, babe.”
“Don’t know any small dicks?” Her smile practically reaches her ears.
I shake my head. “I know one dick, babe, and it sure as hell isn’t small.”
Her eyes quickly glance at my crotch, causing a little chuckle to come out of me. Oh Emma, the sweet girl.
“You got some X-ray vision I don’t know about?”
“What?” Her eyes snap up. “No, I wasn’t . . . there was a fly . . . I . . .” She sighs and then puts her hand on her hip. “I’m going to level with you.” Taking a deep breath, she continues, “You can’t just say something about having a not-so-small peenie weenie and think I’m not going to glance down.”
“Peenie weenie? I sure as fuck didn’t say that? What happened to medical terms?”
She waves her hand in front of her face. “I use those all day, so it’s nice to not have to be technical. Why? Do you want to talk meatus again?”
“Christ, no.” I grab her shoulders and spin her around. Leaning forward, my lips close to her ear, I ask, “Can I trust you to keep your eyes closed, or am I going to have to blindfold you myself?”
Shit, she smells so good. After a long-ass day of school and then working at the hospital, she can still small like vanilla and honey; how is that possible?
“Blindfold? Tucker, is there some kind of kinky orgy in the other room? I’m not sure I’m okay with more than four nipples in a sex romp.”
“Jesus.” I chuckle and wrap my arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind. “No orgy, now will you just close your damn eyes so I can show you?”
“Okay,” she breathes out, her chest hitching under my hold.
Moving my hands to her shoulders, I lean over to make sure her eyes are closed and carefully guide her through the house to the living room.
“You’re making me nervous. There aren’t going to be clowns popping out at me, are there?”
“No clowns, babe. Now stand here.” I move around her so I can see her reaction and hold my breath. “Okay, open your eyes.”
Her beautiful eyes open, blink a few times, and then fixate on the couch in front of her. For a brief second, I think she’s not going to care, but that’s quickly washed away when she brings her hands to her mouth in surprise and then jumps up and down.
“You got a couch!”
I nod, pride filling every inch of my body. “I got a couch.”
“Oh my God.” Quickly she runs over to me and hugs me from the side. “Tucker, you got a couch and it’s so stylish.” Looking up at me, she asks, “Can I sit on it?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “That’s kind of what it’s for.”
She claps and hops over into position. Making a big deal of it, she turns toward me, puts her arms out and falls backward into the couch that sucks her into the cushions. She moans and sighs. Damn, I kind of want to hear her make that noise again.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “What do you think?”
Her eyes are closed and her head is tilted back on the cushion. Without looking at me, she pats the couch, calling me to come sit next to her. “Bask in the gloriousness with me, Tucker.”
I don’t sit on the couch as dramatically as she did, but when I sit down, my shoulder bumps with hers, our proximity on top of each other despite the size of the couch.
“It’s so nice.” She turns her head toward me. “Are you happy?”