The Roommate Equation

by Jillian Quinn

  So, why not act on my feelings for him? I’ve never been much of a one-night stand kind of girl, but this is Dylan. He’s the only person who knows the real me.

  I lean my head back on Dylan’s chest, and his thick arms wrap around me, his hands slowly moving down the front of my body. He stares down at me with his mouth open, his teeth gently grazing his bottom lip. My skin burns as Dylan’s hands roam over my body.

  When the song changes to a more techno beat, I move faster. Dylan brushes his lips along my neck, sticking out his tongue to taste me. I drink in his manly scent, allowing myself to get lost in him.

  Reaching behind me, I drag my fingers down his chest until I find his hard cock. With his body molded to mine, it reminds me of the old days when we were happy and together. He used to make me feel so good. Like I was on top of the world.

  And I loved every second.

  Dylan slides his hand up the front of my dress that suddenly feels too tight. My body trembles when his fingers move up my stomach. And I can’t stop myself from moaning when he drags his thumb over my nipple, teasing the tiny bud.

  “What are we doing?” I choke out, barely able to catch my breath.

  His lips touch my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I need you, Ash.”

  I peek up at him. “Why now? Because we live together?”

  He shakes his head. “Every equation has a constant and a variable. You’re my constant, Ash, the one thing in my life that never changes.”

  Of course, he fires back with something nerdy that makes no sense, but I get the meaning behind his words. In his own way, I guess Dylan is telling me that I’m the one. He doesn’t mean it. How could he? If I were the girl for him, he wouldn’t have let me walk away five years ago. He would have fought for me, for us.

  “You’re drunk,” I shout. “This is the beer talking. Wait until tomorrow morning, when you wake up with a hangover and regret saying that to me.”

  “The only thing I regret is not being there for you when you needed me.”

  “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  “I want you, Ash.”

  After the song switches to a high-tempo rap mix, the crowd and their mood changes along with it, and the bodies and faces become one giant blur. I’m not drunk, but one taste of Dylan has me higher than any drug. When I’m with him, I get drunk on pleasure. I lose myself and the world around me.

  Dylan leads me further into the back of the club, far enough away from Sloan that he won’t see us. He grabs both of my arms with one hand, holding them above my head against the wall. With his free hand, Dylan pushes the hair off my neck and then cups my chin, crushing his lips against my jaw as he plants soft kisses along my skin, slowly making his way to my mouth. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, his expression intense.

  He’s focused, his usual control-freak self. Even in the bedroom, Dylan has to remain in control. And when it comes to his skilled hands and tongue, I always said yes. No, more like I said, Hell, yes. Have your way with me.

  His lips crash into mine with so much passion that I almost lose my balance. But Dylan is there to catch me and pins me against his chest. He takes my lip and sucks on it, tugging at it with his teeth, and I love the way he makes me crave this closeness.

  When Dylan sweeps his tongue into my mouth, I melt into him, and our bodies fuse as one. We stay this way, running our hands over each other’s bodies, feeling everything at once. I allow myself to let go, lost to the rhythm of the beat and the song in my heart.

  When the house lights turn on, the crowd yells and eventually dies down along with the vibe in the club. Dylan holds me at arm's length, his hand on my shoulder as he studies my face.

  “We have to find Sloan,” I suggest.

  Without another word, Dylan leads me through the crowd by the hand. We head toward the front of the club, and his touch sends shockwaves throughout my body. Dylan removes his cell phone from his pocket and raises it to his ear. He calls Sloan a few more times, all of which go to voicemail. And here, I thought my brother would be hunting us down by now. I guess luck is on our side tonight.

  After searching the club for ten minutes, we find my brother in the corner by the bathrooms with a different woman.

  “Stay here,” Dylan says. “Don’t move.”

  “Should I sit, roll over, and beg, too?”

  He snorts with laughter. “If I lose you, Sloan will kill me.”

  After Sloan and Dylan exchange a few words, Dylan approaches me again with a mischievous grin on his handsome face.

  “Sloan’s riding with that girl,” he says.

  “Is he coming home tonight?”

  “Yeah. They’ll be right behind us.”

  “I was hoping we would have the house to ourselves.”

  “Sloan will be too busy to notice what we’re doing.”

  I smile so wide my face hurts. “We can’t… not with Sloan in the house.”

  He smirks. “We’ve done a lot worse.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ash

  Dylan parks in front of his house and kills the engine. We haven’t spoken more than a few words since we left the club. Our trip from Hollywood to Malibu was perfect. We drove with the convertible top rolled down and the wind blowing through our hair.

  Dylan helps me out of the car. He leads me into the dark house, dragging me down the hallway like a man on a mission.

  “What about my brother?”

  “Sloan could come home in two days or two hours from now.”

  I can’t argue with his logic. When my brother gets here, he will most likely go upstairs with the girl from the club.

  Once we’re inside his bedroom, Dylan pushes my back against the wall. He lifts me in his strong arms, and I wrap my legs around his back, sliding my hands up his muscular chest. Our lips collide with an intensity that stuns me, making me crave him like a drug I need to feel alive.

  Dylan kisses me, our tongues working in harmony. He invades my mouth with a vicious hunger, and five years of pent-up sexual desire explodes through my body all at once. He shows me with his body that he wanted this. That he needs this as much as I do, claiming me with each flick of his skilled tongue.

  Once our lips separate, my chest rises and falls with each shallow breath I take. I struggle to gather my thoughts, too consumed by the waves of pleasure that sweep over my body.

  Dylan cups the side of my face and rolls the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. “Ash,” he whispers as his eyes meet mine. “Tell me you want this.”

  “I want this.”

  No, I need this.

  “One night will never be enough,” he confesses.

  “It will have to be,” I say without hesitation.

  Dylan slides my panties to the side and runs his finger along my slick folds. He tests my wetness, moving his finger in and out of me so painfully slow that I moan his name, begging him to give me more.

  “You’re so wet for me,” he groans, adding another finger. “Still so fucking tight.” His fingers slam into me, his pace quickening with each thrust. “I wish I could control myself. But not now. Not after this.”

  “Then, don’t hold back.”

  I whisper the words against his lips, and he kisses me so hard and fast my head spins.

  “Don’t torture me, baby. I want to fuck you on every surface of this house, my cock filling you up, making you scream my name with each orgasm I give you.”

  “I’m ready to play,” I counter, and his eyes illuminate from my challenge. “Let’s see how many orgasms you can give me before your time is up.”

  A smirk turns up the left corner of his mouth. I can see the wheels turning in his brilliant mind, estimating the number of orgasms he plans to give me. He studies me for a few more seconds, and then he kisses me again. But this time, it feels like he’s saying goodbye. Like the last time, when he kissed me in his dorm room before my world came crashing down on me.

  Stop thinking about the past….

&n
bsp; Dylan carries me to his bed with my legs still wrapped around his back. He moves between my spread thighs, his palms on the mattress. His muscular chest presses against mine, and I reach between us to flip open the buttons of his dress shirt.

  Dylan shakes off his shirt, giving me the perfect view of his sculpted abdomen and the sexy V line that dips beneath his black boxer briefs. Compared to Dylan, I’m an out of shape couch potato. He has always cared about his body, from the food he consumes to the time he spends in the gym to look this way.

  He slides off the bed and removes a condom from the nightstand. I stare up at him as he lowers his pants to the floor, kicking them off along with his boxers. I lean forward to wrap my hand around his shaft, feeling his smooth skin between my fingers.

  He grunts, and I peek up at him, loving the sight of his wild blue irises as I stroke him.

  “Take off your dress,” he orders.

  I strip off my dress and throw it onto the floor.

  He tilts his head to the side, his eyes lidded. “Take off your panties.”

  Slowly, I inches my panties down to my ankles, and he whispers, “Fuck, baby.”

  Dylan’s hand moves between my thighs. He teases my clit with his thumb, moving in slow, circular motions that make every nerve ending in my body come alive. My skin is on fire, heat coursing through my veins.

  Dylan wets his lips as he takes in the sight of me. Staring at me like a hungry beast, he sinks to the floor in front of me, parting my legs with his strong hands.

  He kisses his way up my thigh, burying his face between my legs. Dylan peeks up at me, his intense gaze sending a pang of pleasure throughout my body as his tongue connects with my aching clit. He massages me with his tongue, giving me lazy licks that drive me fucking insane.

  His breath makes my toes curl, and when his tongue finally slips between my folds, my brain shuts down. I’m unable to move or think straight when he spreads me open with his fingers, my insides clenching around him as his tongue brings me to the point of convulsing.

  I stare into his deep blue eyes, filled with hunger and passion, concentrating on finding my release as he manages to hit my sweet spot.

  “Dylan,” I moan. “Yes… like that.”

  Gripping Dylan’s dark hair in my hands, I hold him tight and scream his name. I communicate my feelings with each orgasm he rips from my body because they’re his to take. Dylan owns every last one of them.

  He stops when I can’t take any more and glances up at me, his lips covered in my juices. He licks every bit from his lips before sucking his fingers clean. “You taste good…. but I’m not done with you.”

  I release my grip on his hair and sink back. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I want more.”

  He sucks on my nipple, taking it between his teeth and nibbling on it while massaging my other breast. Dylan kisses his way up my chest and to my mouth, leaving soft kisses on my skin as he continues to navigate my body with his rough, calloused hands.

  Dylan climbs into bed with me, moving between my legs. His long, hard cock digs into my thigh, and I reach between us to stroke his shaft.

  He breathes against my lips, his eyes meeting mine. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  Dylan cradles my face in his hands and invades my mouth with his tongue. He’s rough and aggressive, and by the time our lips separate, I’m gasping for air but desperate for more. Dylan inches inside me, and a rush of heat rolls through my body. He grips my hips, and once we have a good rhythm going, he rolls us over in one fell swoop, our bodies still joined. Now, I’m on top of him, and his thrusts match mine. I press my palms to his chest, riding his cock until my orgasm shakes through me.

  Dylan presses his lips to mine and holds onto me as his body shakes, each pulse of his cock sending me over the edge. After his body stops trembling, he slides me off him. I roll onto my side and curl up against his chest.

  We fit perfectly together, always did, and as I listen to the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, I hope this wasn’t a mistake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dylan

  Sloan pokes his head into my office. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

  I still can’t look Sloan in the eye. How can I after what I did with Ash last night?

  “You okay?” Sloan asks on our way to the conference room.

  “You know me, I get lost in my head when I’m thinking about stuff.”

  He nods. “You seem more distracted today than usual.”

  “We should delay the deal with Exact Match.”

  Sloan stops a few feet from the conference room and grabs my shoulder, pinning me in place. Our eyes meet, and it takes everything in my power to look at him. I should tell him about Ash, let him punch me in the face, and get this out of our systems.

  “What’s wrong with the deal?”

  “We’ve already given up enough equity in the company,” I point out. “We don’t need Exact Match to start a new dating app.”

  Sloan bites the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. “But… We talked about this. You said you wanted the deal to go through to get access to their algorithm.”

  “They don’t want to share it because, without their algorithm, Exact Match is no different than any other dating app.”

  He smirks and then pats me on the shoulder. “Leave the talking to me.”

  Sloan strolls into the conference room with a cocky grin in place. He wears his confidence on his sleeve, so sure of himself in every situation. If it weren’t for his people skills, I doubt we would have gotten this far in only a few years.

  Our lawyer is waiting for us in the conference room with his eyes pointed down at a stack of paperwork. After our verbal agreement last night, the guys from Exact Match said they would send over the contracts for us to review. We’re making a mistake. But Sloan is the type of person who goes with his gut, and he’s had a good feeling about this deal since he first brought it to me.

  Sloan and I sit across the table from Connor Hanover, a man in his late fifties with sandy hair. He’s dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit. When it comes to style, Connor gives Sloan a run for his money, even at his age. I wear suits because I have to dress the part of the CTO of Date Crashers when I’d rather wear a t-shirt and jeans to the office.

  Sloan leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “How are we looking, Connor?”

  “It’s a standard contract… but there’s one small issue.” He pushes a page in front of us and points at the highlighted part.

  I finish reading the paragraph before Sloan, seething with anger.

  “This isn’t going to work.” I shove the paper in front of Connor, shaking my head. “They want to retain the exclusive rights to their algorithm but expect us to hand ours over for the next five years. No, not happening.”

  “That’s not what it said,” Sloan challenges.

  “I’m afraid Dylan is right,” Connor says. “Our legal team almost missed this with how they worded the clause. If you go through with this merger, you will grant Exact Match exclusive rights to your algorithm, which they will most likely use to create other products that you have no vested interest in.”

  Sloan blows out a deep breath and leans back in his chair. He turns to look at me. “We’ll fix this.”

  “Tell them no deal,” I say to Connor.

  “We can go back to them with an amended contract,” he suggests.

  “Do that,” Sloan says before I can interrupt.

  “We don’t need them,” I challenge.

  “This could be good for us. Why can’t you see that?”

  “Because our new business partners are trying to fuck us,” I snap.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes,” Connor says, exiting the conference room.

  Sloan unbuttons his jacket and sighs. “What is your issue with them?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. You didn’t write a single line of code for Date Crashers.”

  “Dude, what is you
r problem today? Do you need to get laid?”

  Nope, that’s not my problem.

  “The underlying algorithm is the product, not the app. Without it, we would have nothing. I’m not giving those assholes my code to use in other apps. Fuck them.”

  “They have one hundred million active users worldwide. Do you want to start from scratch with a new dating app?”

  I roll my shoulders, avoiding his gaze.

  “Sleep on it, okay?”

  I nod in response.

  No amount of sleep will change my mind about this deal. We’re getting fucked, and I’m not about to bend over and take it to make a few bucks.

  My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, buzzing against my thigh. A message from Ash pops up on my screen.

  Ash: I’m having lunch with Willow and Savanna. You don’t need to pick me up.

  As if I wasn’t already disappointed about Exact Match, Ash’s text message guts me. She’s bailing on me to eat with the wife of the man who’s trying to screw me over. The timing couldn’t be more convenient.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ash

  I gather a handful of new scripts I picked out for Nico Chase, hoping Vinnie approves of my choices. Nico is on his last leg with Brenton-Lake. If I can keep him from losing his agent, I will. Knowing the brutality of this business firsthand, I don’t want to see a once bright star burn out because he fell on hard times.

  Vinnie summons me with an attitude, his deep voice booming through the speaker on my phone.

  “Ash, get in here!”

  I clasp my hands in front of me and lower my head, jokingly whispering, Yes, master. My voice is low enough that Vinnie doesn’t hear me. Not like it matters. Vinnie usually barks his orders and then slams down the phone before I can answer.

  When I enter his office, Vinnie is tugging at the ends of his dark hair. He looks as if he has aged ten years in the last week.