Roommates With Benefits

I exhaled, accepting he’d have a rebuttal to every point I tried to make. “I felt something for you before I saw you in your tux.”


His brow carved into his forehead. “Yeah, but the tux didn’t hurt the feelings, right?”

He took my lack of answer as one.

“Plus, the whole jealousy thing could be swaying your . . .”

“Feelings?” I suggested.

His eyes dropped to my sleep shirt, where my nipples were popping through the thin material. His eyes swept lower, where my hips were still fighting to form against his. Letting go of his hold around my backside, he set me back down on the floor.

“Libido,” he stated, taking a few steps back, his hand lifting when I moved to close that distance.

“You think because some other chick was hitting on you, that’s the reason I want to . . .”

“Have sex with me?”

My arms crossed, my legs trembling with what felt like withdrawal-like symptoms. “That isn’t the reason.”

“Good. I will be happy to let you prove that to me at a later time. When alcohol, a tux, and another ‘chick’ aren’t part of the same evening.” When Soren’s eyes ran down me again, he rolled his neck and took a few more large steps back.

At least I wasn’t the only one fighting temptation.

“Did you seriously just suggest slowing down?” More of my mind was coming back with the farther away he got.

He looked like he was replaying it in his head. “Yeah, I think I really did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a moron hell-bent on making sure I suffer and strangle any measure of happiness out of my life.”

Leaning into the wall, I tried to catch my breath. “That sounds about right.”

His face creased. “Then why does it feel so wrong?”

“Doing the right thing’s hard?” I guessed.

Soren’s eyes dropped to his belt region. “It’s hard, all right. So damn hard, I’m going to have to take a cold shower if I want to get any sleep tonight.”

My eyes roamed the same region, but I forced myself to stay where I was. “We both know what you do in the shower.”

Soren fought a smile as he kicked out of his shoes. “Tonight, in the shower. Tomorrow night”—his eyes met mine—“we’ll revisit this . . . topic.” His hand motioned between us.

“You’re not saying that because you’re not that into me and don’t want to hurt my feelings?” I worked at my lip as he slid out of the tux jacket and settled it over the back of a chair. Nice of him to do the Soren Strip Show ten feet in front of me.

“No,” he snorted, making a face like I was insane. “I’m into you. So way into you, I’m still kind of in shock you just admitted you were into me. So way into you, I’m fighting every instinct and muscle fiber begging me to push you back up against that wall and finish what we started.”

My knees quivered. More from the way he was appraising me, his jaw working, than the words he was speaking.

“I’m into you, Hayden. I’m not saying slow down for my benefit; I’m saying it for yours.”

“For mine?”

“If I was only looking out for mine, I’d have you in my bed and screaming my name right now.” He pulled the bow tie from his collar, giving me a look that dared me to challenge him.

“Screaming your name, huh? Confident in your abilities.”

“I could try to convince you with my words. Or I could just actually convince you tomorrow night.” He smirked as he unbuttoned what was left of his shirt. “You got a preview of what my tongue can do, right? Believe me, screaming my name’s just the start of what I have planned.”

That man. Good god. I swear, if I barely touched myself through my underwear right now, I’d come from the way he was appraising me like he wanted to possess me. “Tomorrow night?”

“Sleep on it, think about it. You still feel the same way tomorrow night—minus the alcohol, tux, and other chicks—yeah.” He nodded, slipping out of his shirt one arm at a time. “Tomorrow night.”

“Twenty-four hours? That’s the difference between taking it slow and rushing into things?”

“Eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds. Each of those feeling like a damn lifetime to a man waiting to be with the girl he’s into.” Soren worked at his belt as he started for the bathroom, winking at me when he caught me staring at his bare upper half. “I’d wait tens of thousands of lifetimes for you. That’s the difference right there.”

I turned to watch him, my heart trilling. “It’s still only twenty-four hours. One day.”

“I’m trying to be romantic.”

“I’m trying to get laid.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman. A good guy here.”

“I’m trying to be a bad girl. A very bad one.”

His hands gripped the frame of the doorway before he banged his head against it. “I’m going to take that cold shower now.”

“Have fun with your ‘self-love.’ I prefer to do mine in my bed.” Shoving off the wall, I wandered toward my room. “Come to think of it . . .” When I glanced over my shoulder, I found him watching me, mouth hanging open, his body angling like he wanted to follow. “Good night, Soren.”

A few more thumps sounded. “Sweet dreams, Hayden.”





My dreams had not been sweet. Not even close.

The next morning, I woke in a panicked frenzy, my sheets twisted around my legs, sweat clinging to my skin. All night, I’d dreamed about Soren and me, but it hadn’t been the kind of dream I’d been hoping to have. Us fighting and yelling, being petty and childish. Then when it seemed we’d never be free of this endless loop of arguing, we were torn apart. He went one direction; I went the other.

He left me.

That was when I jolted awake.

I gave myself a few minutes to let the clutches of the nightmare drift away, but this one didn’t retreat the way most did. Instead, it clung to me, refusing to let me shuffle it into the back of my mind.

Soren had early morning practice and was already gone by the time I forced myself out of bed. The pieces of his tux he’d scattered like damn bread crumbs last night had been picked up and were gone. He probably had to return it today.

However, the wall we’d gotten all hot and heavy against was still there. Not going anywhere. Glancing at it, I swore I could see my impression carved into the drywall.

I’d kissed Soren. I’d made out with Soren.

I’d been ready and practically begging to do more with him.

My stomach contracted, a wave of nausea rolling through me.

I’d told him I liked him and wanted him and . . . shit, I’d gone and ruined everything.