Forbidden Roommate: Her Dad's Best Friend Series Set

by Penny Wylder

  Copyright © 2019 by Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  1

  “That’s it, right there,” the rich male voice says. He’s got an accent, and it’s close enough to the real thing that I can close my eyes and imagine that it’s him…the man I’ve been dreaming about forever.

  “Come on,” the enigmatic voice says, “come for me.” The sound of the video echoes off the walls of my bedroom, and the sounds of sex are loud in my ears as I try to shove myself further into my fantasy with Bryce. The dark hair that is just silvering at the temples, the dark blue eyes different from any color I’ve ever encountered, and that voice.

  The man on the video speaks again, and it intrudes on my memory. It’s not good enough, and neither are my fingers. Frustrated, I roll over and fumble in my bedside drawer for my handy vibrator. It’s early, and I had a dream about Bryce that I woke up from. My body is craving pleasure, and this is as close as I can get, given that Bryce is hours away and that he has no idea that I even exist.

  But that dream, holy fuck. I can still feel the way his lips traced across my skin, and the heat in his words. I woke up wet and wanting, but nothing seems to be working now. Usually my trusty playlist of porn is enough to transport me into the right headspace. I love porn. I embrace it. Use it all the time.

  This morning, however, it’s a poor substitute for what I imagine is the real thing, and my body knows it. Glancing at the video, I try to focus on it. It’s one of my favorites. An older porn actor with a British accent and a great body takes a younger actress roughly from behind. The look of sheer pleasure on her face is what drew me to the film, and normally I can imagine myself in her place, Bryce being the one behind me, taking me.

  I can’t get the dream out of my head, though, and as I flip on the vibrator, the dissonance between what I’m seeing and what I dreamt is obvious. I’m so aroused, but at the same time, I know that it’s going nowhere.

  Frustration rolls through me. I normally have no problem bringing myself to orgasm, and I don’t want to give up. But the more I press the vibrator against my clit the more there’s absolutely nothing there.

  Fucking hell.

  I smack my laptop closed on the bed and shove the vibrator back into the drawer. This is really not how I wanted to start the day. Starting the day with a good orgasm is recommended. Frustrated and left wanting? Not so much.

  And it’s all because of Bryce. Of course it’s because of Bryce. It’s always been because of him, and I’m tired of it.

  Because I can’t have him.

  Bryce Collingwood is my father’s best friend, and being together would rip our families apart. He’s twice my age, and my father would never forgive us. But even though it’s been years since I’ve seen him, my traitorous brain still gives me dreams like that, and I still find myself looking for him.

  In my porn. In my dates.

  He’s my go-to fantasy. I can’t fucking help it. He’s always been it for me.

  But there’s nothing I can fucking do about it.

  I pull a pillow over my face, and scream. I need to get up and go to work. But before I do, I allow myself one last indulgence. I let the dream roll through my mind once last time. It was simple, intimate, and the fact that it’s all I’ve ever wanted almost brings tears to my eyes.

  I was lying in bed, and for a moment, I didn’t know that I was dreaming. When his silhouette appeared in the door, I wasn’t afraid, because I intuitively knew that it was him. Wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweats. I’ve seen Bryce without a shirt countless times in my life. He was always there with us at the pool in the summertime, on family vacations. I know what his chiseled chest looks like with my eyes closed.

  He looked down at me with a small, private smile, before crossing to the bed. The heat from his body as he stretched out behind me was comforting. That same heat sank into me as he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest. I looked back into his face. “You were gone,” I said.

  “I didn’t want to wake you.” That voice rumbled through me, rich tones and perfect accent. “I’m here now.”

  And then he kissed me. Soft yet firm, caressing my lips open with his own. My body answered the call, heat rising, and pleasure shivering across my skin. I let him deepen the kiss, turning toward him and letting his hands slip down my body where I needed to feel them most.

  And that’s when I woke up.

  Damn it.

  If I’m never going to actually fuck Bryce, the least my brain could do is allow me to imagine what it would be like. You know?

  And maybe it could actually let me have an orgasm when I really need it. I’ll just have to try again later when I get home. Maybe I’ll be able to relax enough—or maybe the dream will be far enough out of my head that I’ll actually be able to get off. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had actual sex and not just my hand or vibrator. But I just don’t have the time to put into dating anyone.

  Not that that isn’t what I want and crave. But it doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me. Go figure.

  It’s Monday, and I think that I hate this day before it’s even started.

  As if adding insult to injury, my alarm starts to blare, startling me and shattering the morning quiet with its loud, brassy noises, so different from the whispered warmth of the dream.

  I’m going to need so much coffee today, and I desperately hope that there aren’t a lot of crazy customers today. Because I can already tell that I won’t have the patience for it.

  Today is not going well, to say the least. My normal Monday shipment of books was almost three hours late, putting us way behind, adding stress on me and Elle, and to make matters worse, we’ve been busy all day.

  On any other day, I would be over the moon that my little shop has had this many customers. Owning a bookstore is difficult, and sometimes it feels like customers are be few and far between. But I’ve put a lot of hard work into Katti Corner, and I’m proud to say that it’s now a cornerstone of our little community, and that many people in the neighborhood rely on us for their literary needs.

  And we’re not just busy either. We’ve had lots of people with special requests. Books that we would normally never stock, and would have no reason to. Anything from obscure textbooks to esoteric religious tomes and the like.

  On the one hand, I am glad that our reputation is spreading as a store that is welcoming and that we can always find what you need. But on the other hand, with the way my brain is today, I don’t have a lot of patience for these kinds of requests.

  Especially when every time somebody asks for a book, it seems like they can never remember specifically what they want. It’s always something along the lines of ‘Oh, I think the title was something like this,’ or ‘It was a book about penguins with a blue cover. Do you know which one I’m talking about?’

  Of course, I rarely do. And of course, I do my best to help them. But I usually do it a bit more gracefully than I’ve managed today.

  Boxes of unopened stock are scattered around the small space, and it’s making it very crowded. Elle thankfully notices that I’m not doing well, and graciously takes over one of our more regularly obtuse customers. He comes in every week and asks for the new books on quantum physics. Even though we don’t carry books about quantum physics, and never have. So what inevitably follows is a half-hour of googling that he could easily have done at home, and him likely leaving without buying anything.

  If I’d known how little running a book store had to do with actual books, I might never have opened this place. But I still love it. It’s tiny and cozy, and the best part is that it’s entirely mine. Even if I can’t seem to get my head on straight today.

  There’s so
much that I need to do on Mondays, and it seems like I can’t get my thoughts on the proper track to do them. The dream I had this morning is still haunting me, and I feel my mind drifting away into warmth and murmured words and simple, elegant touches.

  In the book world, release date is on Tuesday. Which means I have to get a lot of this stock catalogued and ready to go out on the shelves for when we open tomorrow morning.

  There’s a significant portion of our customer base who comes in every Tuesday to get the new releases they are expecting. I can’t afford to just let it slide and do all this in the morning, because it will be bad for business. But I haven’t been able to complete a single task without being interrupted.

  Finally, when closing time rolls around, and there still people in the store, I head back to my office to try to get some of the cataloging done, while Elle herds the last few harried customers out of our doors.

  On the way back, a customer calls out goodbye to me, distracting me for just the second it takes for me to trip over the corner of a box, and land sprawling onto the floor.

  They barely notice—already out the door and on their way—but Elle sees and runs over to me. “Are you okay?”

  I simply lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, and try to take a breath. “I’ll be okay,” I say. “Just give me a second, please.”

  She nods. “I’ll finish closing up, and then I’ll get to work on some of these boxes.”

  I close my eyes against the embarrassment and frustration that I feel. “Thanks, Elle.”

  I hear her leave, and she goes about the rest of her duties, and I slowly pick myself up off the floor. I grab the offending box and take it with me, because this box needs to be the first one to go. I’m going to take all the books out of it, break it down and stomp on it like it deserves. Like this whole fucking day deserves.

  I breathe deep through my nose and out through my mouth.

  Fuck this. Fuck Bryce for making me want him even though I’ve gone out of my way to get away from him and move on. It’s not fair that I tried to do the right thing—not chase him and hurt my dad over a crush and what would clearly be a fling for his friend—and I’m still paying for it. He wasn’t supposed to reach me here. And it pisses me off.

  This will pass. Everybody has bad days, right? While this has been a doozy. I can’t wait for it to be over and start again tomorrow. Preferably well rested and with a couple of good orgasms under my belt.

  I settle down in front of my computer, and manage to start the process of inventory. This all should have been done long before now, and I am honestly not too happy about the fact that both Elle and I have to stay late to do this. But that’s the cost of doing business sometimes. And I’m more than grateful that she never complains when it happens. She gets it.

  Finally, I get myself into a rhythm, and the tapping of my keyboard and scanning of the titles seems to take away some of the stress. Until Elle’s voice jerks me out of my reverie. “Hey, did you have an idea where you wanted to shelve the new science fiction display? There’s a lot of them—”

  “Seriously?” I say. “I just need five minutes of uninterrupted time. Just five minutes. Please. For the love of God.” It takes me a second of us both staring at each other for my words to actually sink in. “Wow,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  She smirks at me. “Been waiting for that all damn day. You’ve been on edge, and it shows. What’s going on?”

  “Honestly, nothing worth talking about,” I mutter.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Really? Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

  “I just had a lousy start to the day and it feels like everything has carried through from that, you know?”

  Elle laughs. “Sounds like you need to get laid and relieve some of the tension.”

  I roll my eyes. “Believe me I’m trying to.”

  Elle has worked for me for the past four years, shortly after Katti Corner opened, and now she’s one of my best friends. She also, in passing, knows about Bryce. In the way that she knows I was kind of obsessed with someone from back home and I still have a thing for him. So when I tell her about the dream and my unsatisfying masturbation, she does exactly what I expect her to, and laughs.

  “No wonder you’ve been pissed off all day,” she says. “I would have been pissed off too.”

  “Yeah,” I say, “but it wasn’t an excuse to snap at you. Sorry.”

  Elle shrugs. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “But seriously, Katti, you need to meet somebody. Why not just go on a few dates?”

  “You know that I don’t have the time. Everything is crazy busy here, and I don’t even know where I would meet someone.”

  Elle leans against the doorframe and gives me a look like I’m completely missing the point. “The same way that everybody else meets people now. Online. Or an app. There’s actually a good one that I’ve been using, if you want to try it.”

  I laugh. “No thanks. I’m already mortified enough by my lack of human connection. I don’t need the humiliation of being rejected before they even meet the frumpy bookstore owner.”

  “First of all, bullshit,” she says. “You’re gorgeous and we both know it.”

  We both don’t know it. Elle is beautiful, and she thinks everybody else is beautiful too. She’s tall and thin with long blonde hair that cascades effortlessly and never looks messy. I’m more than a little curvy—something that’s happened more recently and I’m still lamenting my high school skinniness—basically haven’t bought any new clothes in the past three years, and am more likely to get tripped over than hit on. But we’ve had this argument before, and Elle is a force of nature. I’ll lose the argument, so I just don’t say anything.

  She rolls her eyes as she continues talking. “But that’s actually the nice thing about this app. It’s all anonymous.”

  I look at her. “What’s the point of a dating app that’s anonymous?”

  “So you can get to know each other first, with common interests and chatting rather than just judging people on pictures that may or may not be accurate.”

  I can’t imagine that Elle would have any problem getting dates on a traditional dating app, but if she vouches for it, there must be something to it. “And you’ve used it?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been having some of the most interesting conversations. I’m going on a date this weekend.”

  I have to admit that that idea does sound appealing. I’ve always found emotional and mental connections to be stronger than the physical—Bryce being the exception. I wanted all of him. Body, mind, and soul. “But what happens when you show up on date and you’re not attracted to them?”

  She shrugs. “Then it doesn’t work out?” Taking a step away from the door, she shrugs. “But even if it doesn’t work out, at least you still tried.” She disappears out the door back to where all the boxes are waiting for her, and I go back to my scanning and sorting.

  But the idea hangs with me. I find myself enamored of it.

  It really has been a long time since I’ve even tried to go on a date. I can’t remember the last time I went out to a bar with any intention of talking to anyone than my friends. I’m at the bookstore all day, every day, and by the time the day is done I usually just want to go home.

  Sometimes I read a book—though you would think that I would be sick of them after spending all day at work, but work never stops. I have to read new books so I can stock the store and make recommendations. Plus, I find that books are usually more consistent companions than people.

  Sometimes I watch TV, and snuggle with my cat. God, that sounds pathetic doesn’t it? Twenty-five years old, a successful business woman, and I go home at the end of the day to snuggle with my cat. Not that there’s anything wrong with snuggling with your cat. But Elle is right.

  I really should try harder.

  Or try at all, really.

  Especially since my mind won’t leave me alone when it comes to Bryce. It’s never going to fucking happen. I need to accept th
at and move on.

  If anything, I need to find somebody who can replace him in the fantasies I have. That’s not going to be an easy task, but I owe it to myself not to let this sexual frustration get the better of me.

  Rolling my eyes, I get up from my chair. I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this. But I walk out into the store and find Elle, arms deep in boxes of books. “What did you say the name of that app was?”

  She grins. “I didn’t, but it’s called Hearts First. You’re going to try it?”

  I nearly gag at the name. It sounds like something I would rather die than investigate. But I’m going to do it anyway. “I haven’t decided,” I lie.

  All she does is smirk at me because we both know that it’s not the truth. “Stop looking at me like that,” I say. “You look like the cat who swallowed the canary.”

  Elle puts on a mask of innocence. “I look like nothing of the sort. I just want my friend to have some fun for once. And get fucking laid.”

  I roll my eyes and go back to my office. I’m already imagining the possibilities, what this could mean. Desperation drives me to think about the fact that I could actually meet someone. It’s been so long that I can barely remember what actually being touched sexually feels like.

  My last boyfriend was passable, but not very memorable. God, Elle is right. I need to get laid.

  But for the next couple of hours I need to rein myself in. Hold my imagination in check until I can get home and actually look at this app, put Bryce out of my mind, and make an effort.

  2

  I can’t wait until I get home to check out the app.

  In fact, I’m barely able to wait half an hour. The idea I of going on a date—and possibly having sex—takes hold of me so quickly that I'm driven to distraction.

  I shouldn't exactly be surprised, based on how today is going, so I just give in. Fuck it. There's nothing that's going to make this workday any better.