One Hot Roomie

by Durand, Anna

  "I know." The words come out as a growl. "I was going to change into something... else."

  "Don't bother." She scans me up and down, her lips curving into a sensual smile. "You look plenty hot already. I can feel my panties melting as we speak."

  I cough into my fist, mumble something even I can't understand, and rush into my room to get my shoes. When I return to Arden, she's leaning back against the wall beside her bedroom door, swinging a tiny lavender purse in one hand.

  Somehow, I prevent myself from mauling her and offer her my arm like a gentleman would, though my feelings toward her at this moment are the exact opposite of gentlemanly.

  Chance and Elena are fine with me dating Arden, so maybe they won't mind if I...

  No, no, no, and absolutely fucking no, you flaming arsehole.

  I ignore my carnal urges and escort Arden to the cafe she's chosen for us. It's a casual place, so I fit right in. Arden couldn't fit in if she tried, and I don't want her to. It's not because she's "kooky," as she calls it. She's a stunning woman, and whenever she smiles, the entire world lights up. Her laughter should be patented as a cure for depression. It makes me feel good every single time.

  While I listen to Arden ordering our breakfast, I can't help smiling. She's thoroughly adorable. And yes, I let her order for me, because I'm that sort of modern man. You know, the type who lets women do everything for him, not because he's lazy but because he knows that's what women like. I respect female power and all that bollocks. I'm an evolved man.

  All right, the real reason I let her order for me is because I love the sound of her voice.

  But I do respect her, which feels strange. I like her, I respect her, and I want to shag her. Maybe I have evolved.

  We eat crepes filled with sliced bananas and served with caramel sauce on top. I'm not sure about this meal, but I give it a go---and end up liking it. Arden makes me want to try new things. I gave her a new experience too, but I'm not sure sex is as important as trying new foods or going to new places I never would have visited on my own. Like the science museum. Or Coney Island.

  The thought stops me. I'm holding a forkful of banana-filled crepe to my lips but can't move another millimeter to eat it. Going to a museum is better than sex? Did I just think that?

  "Are you okay?" Arden asks. "You look kind of pale all of a sudden."

  I shake off my disturbing thought and look at her. She's so bloody beautiful. And sweet. And clever. She's the most perfect woman I've ever met.

  "Reese?"

  "Sorry, fine, yes." I shove the forkful of crepe into my mouth and chew it while I try to figure out what's happening to me. Once I've swallowed my mouthful of food, I attempt to speak without sounding like an idiot. "There's nothing wrong with me. I had a strange thought, that's all."

  "What were you thinking about?"

  You. But I don't say that. I can't. My vocal cords refuse to produce any sound. I shrug and eat the rest of my breakfast, consuming bite after bite without any space between bites so I can't be tempted to blurt out stupid things.

  Arden watches me for a moment, seeming a bit suspicious, but soon she goes back to eating her crepe. She doesn't ask me about my strange thought anymore.

  I let her take me wherever she wants to go. We visit every tiny, off-the-map tourist spot in the city, and some in New Jersey too, and I love every second of it. Arden can turn anything into a wildly entertaining experience. I even agree to pose for a selfie with her, like we did at the science museum, because she seems to love those. I slip an arm around her waist and smile while she takes the picture.

  And I haven't even thought about shagging her in at least two hours.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Arden

  When we get home, after a day of sightseeing and eating and laughing and kissing, I text Elena the selfie of me and Reese that I took today. She responds a few minutes later with a series of emojis that all include hearts or kissing lips. I'm not kissing Reese in the photo, so I have no idea why she's doing that.

  I reply with an emoji of a face with its tongue sticking out.

  Yeah, maybe we're both reverting to junior high behavior.

  But it's not funny at all when Elena calls me a few minutes later and says, "You're sleeping with Reese, aren't you?"

  "What?" I can play dumb, even though I'm not.

  "Come on, Arden. You took a selfie with him, and I've never seen you do that with any of those other guys."

  "Reese is fun. I really like him. Is that a crime?"

  "No, but hearing you say that only convinces me even more that you're sleeping with him."

  "As if that's any of your business." Though she can't see it, I sit up straighter in my puffy armchair and lift my chin. "For your information, I am not currently having sex with Reese Dixon."

  "Not currently?" Elena's tone changes, becoming softer and throatier, the way she always talks when she's discovered a juicy secret. "Does that mean you've done it already? Or you're about to do it?"

  I sit there with my mouth open while I try to figure out how to avoid answering without Elena realizing that's what I'm doing. I suck at subterfuge, though. Always have.

  My silence speaks all the words I didn't want to say.

  "Okay," Elena says, "it's none of my business. But at least tell me one thing. Was it good?"

  "If the question of whether I'm sleeping with Reese is none of your business, how is it okay to butt your snoopy little nose into the question of whether he's good in bed?"

  "You're right. I'm sorry." She sighs with phony disappointment. "I guess I'll have to infer the answer. Chance is such an incredible lover that I'm betting Reese is fantastic too."

  "Elena, honestly." I relax into my chair, twirling a lock of hair around my finger while I remember exactly how fantastic Reese was on the night we slept together. "I'm betting Reese is way better than Chance."

  "Let's agree to disagree on that one."

  We chat a little more, then say goodbye.

  I hear the shower running in the bathroom, and my mind decides now is the right time to give me a high-definition, 3D, surround sound mental movie of Reese in the shower. Naked. Wet. The water drizzling down his body. Steam billowing around him while he runs his hands all over himself, spreading soapiness on all those muscles...

  Lucky suds.

  The doorbell chimes, and I drag my butt out of the chair to shuffle over to the door. I'd rather sneak into the bathroom and join Reese in the shower. But I behave like a good girl and open the door to greet whoever's there.

  "Arden, darling," my grandmother says, opening her arms in an invitation to hug her.

  I give in and accept the embrace. "Hey Grams, what are you doing here?"

  She keeps her hands on my upper arms, though we're an arm's length apart now. "You look tired."

  "Gee, thanks. You look old."

  Her laughter is big and uninhibited, like always. She knows I'm joking because my lips turn up at the corners, and besides, she knows me too well to think I'd insult her. Ever since I hit puberty, Grams and I have enjoyed ribbing each other, affectionately.

  Celeste Arnaud keeps her blonde hair cut short, but since she has lots of curls, it doesn't look severe. And yeah, she dyes her hair. Though she's in her seventies, she has zero wrinkles---thanks to a fantastic plastic surgeon. Her designer dress cost more than my first car. Grams stays slim too, and her perfect figure makes me look chunky.

  I'm not jealous. I like my body, and I love Grams to pieces.

  She cocks one hip and sets her hand on it. "Well, may I come in? I'm not used to hanging around in dank hallways."

  I wave for her to enter and shut the door behind her. "It's not dank. This building is perfectly nice."

  "Nice?" She stops between the bar and the sofa, swiveling her gaze this way and that. "I don't understand why you won't stay at my townhouse. This apartment is a hovel."

  Yeah, I love her despite the fact she's an eno
rmous snob.

  "This is Elena's old place," I tell her, "and I like it here. It's cozy."

  Grams closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Dear lord, how did I end up with a heathen for a granddaughter?"

  "Watch it, Grams. I'll tell you all about the greys again."

  She smiles and puts an arm around my shoulders. "All right. If you're happy, I'm happy."

  "Thank you."

  "But honestly, I don't see the appeal." She waves her other arm toward the windows in a grand gesture. "You don't even have a proper view."

  The bathroom door opens, and Reese moseys into the living room. He stops at the other end of the sofa from us, and his gaze switches back and forth between me and Grams.

  He's wearing nothing but a towel, slung so low on his hips that it seems like it'll fall off if he coughs.

  Grams notices him---how could she not---and her brows lift. She rakes her gaze over him from head to toe, taking special notice of his towel and the bulge that's hiding underneath it. When she gets to his face, her lips kick up at one corner.

  She looks at me. "Well, I believe I'm starting to see the appeal of this apartment."

  Reese is looking at me like he wants to know what's going on.

  "Um," I say, fumbling to get my brain in gear and stepping away from my grandmother. I point toward the half-naked elephant in the room and say, "Grams, this is Reese Dixon. Remember Chance, Elena's fiancé? Well, he's Reese's brother. Reese, this is my grandmother, Celeste Arnaud."

  He strides across the room to shake my grandmother's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Arnaud. Arden has told me all about you."

  "Call me Celeste." She holds on to his hand even when he tries to pull it away. "Arden has told me nothing at all about you, but I think I can guess why. Gorgeous and British. I bet my granddaughter isn't a virgin anymore."

  "Grams!" I almost shout it, and the syllable ends on a squeak.

  She waves a hand like she's dismissing my freak-out. "It's about time you crossed that bridge, darling. But I'm dying to know more about your new... friend."

  Grams slides her gaze up and down his body again, and I swear to God she licks her lips.

  I'm helpless to squelch my indignant tone. "Grams, for heaven's sake. A senior citizen shouldn't be ogling a hot young man. What would Granddad think?"

  "Your grandfather knows I only want him. Why should he care if I window shop?"

  Reese is grinning.

  And my cheeks are on fire.

  "I have a fabulous idea," Grams says. "Let's all go out to dinner at my favorite restaurant. I have a standing reservation with a table on hold for me anytime."

  "Your favorite place is super swanky," I say, "and I don't have fancy clothes. I doubt Reese does either."

  "We'll stop off at Armani on our way to the restaurant." She ogles Reese again. "I'm sure he'll look scrumptious in a designer suit."

  Once Grams makes up her mind, there's no stopping her. I let her take us out for shopping and dinner. Reese puts on jeans and a T-shirt for the trip to Armani, but nobody in the ultra-chic store cares about what he's wearing. All the female employees vie for the chance to get Reese fitted for a suit.

  Maybe I get a teensy bit jealous of those pretty, stylish babes fawning over him. Maybe. Just a smidge.

  And damn, he really does look scrumptious in an Armani suit.

  Over dinner, Grams and Reese talk. A lot. I sit there like a lump in a designer dress, not saying a word. Normally, I have no problem with jumping right into a conversation, but tonight I've become a mute. Grams can't resist teasing me and Reese with sarcastic and often suggestive comments throughout dinner. This is her way of being friendly with my new boyfriend. She keeps telling him how amazing I am too, which is kind of embarrassing.

  When Grams drops me and Reese off at the apartment, she whispers in my ear, "I approve."

  "Um... thank you?" I honestly have no clue what I'm supposed to say to that, and dumb words are all I can come up with.

  "He's gorgeous, yes," she continues, "but he's also whip-smart. Just like you. It's a perfect pairing, like chardonnay and escargot."

  "I hate escargot. Slimy little dead snails in my mouth? Ew."

  "Fine, forget the snails. I'm trying to say you and Reese are perfect for each other."

  She kisses my cheek, says "adieu" to Reese, and leaves.

  I'm alone with Reese. Sure, I've sort of lived with him for a week and a half, but tonight being alone with him feels different. He charmed the socks off Grams, or rather, charmed the silk stockings off her. She has never liked any guy I've ever dated, but she fell for Reese at first sight.

  Kind of like I did.

  He stands there across the sofa from me, in his Armani suit, looking so outrageously yummy. I want to eat him up, but something has changed between us. Something I can't yet identify. I know how to hunt down facts, no matter how obscure, but understanding this thing between me and Reese has me stumped.

  Because I've never felt anything like it.

  We're dating. We're in a relationship. But I don't know where this is all leading.

  He sweeps his gaze over me while he unbuttons his jacket. "You are so beautiful, Arden."

  "It's the dress. Armani makes any girl look fabulous."

  "You've got it the wrong way round. You make the dress look fabulous."

  "Thanks." My cheeks warm, but not with embarrassment. The heat of his gaze penetrates me, sizzling on my skin and deeper into the most intimate places. "You make that suit look so damn hot."

  He crooks a finger, beckoning me to come to him.

  I cross the distance between us, my gaze never leaving his, and stop right in front of him. Inches separate us, and I swear I can feel the heat of his body radiating into me.

  Reese settles his hands on my arms, gliding them up and down so slowly and with such decadent tenderness that his touch sets off a tingling sensation in its wake.

  "Mm," I hum, laying my hands on his chest. "I want you. Tonight. Please, Reese, don't say no again."

  He kisses my forehead, my nose, my lips.

  I slide my hands inside his jacket and push it off his shoulders. He takes his hands off me only long enough to shed the jacket. I grasp the knot in his tie and work on freeing it, while he showers light little kisses on my temple, down my cheek to my jaw, and on the sensitive spot just under my chin. The thought of being with him again, of feeling and touching his body again, excites me so much that I moan even while I undo his tie and toss it away.

  When I grasp the top button on his shirt, he lays his hand over mine to stop me.

  "Maybe we shouldn't," he says. "I want you so much it's killing me, but Chance and Elena---"

  "Will get over it. They're cool with us dating, so they'll be fine with us getting it on once they realize it's none of their damn business."

  "You're probably right." He slides his hands up to my shoulders and down my back to the top of the zipper on my dress. "Can't care anymore. I need you, all of you, naked, underneath me, on top of me, everywhere."

  "Oh yes." I unhook the buttons on his shirt one by one, my fingers grazing his skin as I go, loving the way his breath catches. "Let's stop thinking and just do it."

  He drags the zipper down, inch by inch, nibbling my earlobe while I shiver from the feel of cool air on my back and from knowing I'm about to have what I've craved for days. Him. Inside me.

  I push the shirt off his shoulders.

  Reese shrugs out of it, then plucks the straps of my dress off my shoulders. The dress drops to the floor, leaving me in only my flimsy lace panties and bra. I've worn the semitransparent one he liked this morning, or I assume he liked it. When he saw me in it, his eyes had glazed over, and his mouth had fallen open.

  He takes in the sight of me, running a hand over his mouth.

  Then he sweeps me into his arms and rushes me into the bedroom.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reese


  I sprint into Arden's bedroom and lay her down on the bed. The covers are over it, but I'm so excited about making love to her that I don't care. I pull her knickers off, then reach under her body to undo her bra and get rid of it too. She lies there naked, with the sweetest smile on her face, and bites her lip in the way that always makes me want her.

  All right, I want her every second of every day. She doesn't need to bite her lip to get me worked up. But watching her release that lip little by little makes me even harder for her.

  The thought I had a minute ago comes back to me. I want to make love to her, that's what I'd thought. Make love. Have I ever used that phrase to describe sex before? Maybe once before, and I think it was earlier today. Arden has done more than drive me to break my promise to Chance, or to break my habit of never staying in a woman's bed all night. Because of her, I want more than sex. Only with her.

  A strange sensation hits me, like a hard thump to the chest. No one has struck me, though. This feeling is inside me. When I look into Arden's eyes, the thump turns into pressure, but it doesn't feel bad. I like the sensation.

  "What's wrong?" she asks.

  "Nothing. I'm fine."

  I kiss her, softly at first, savoring the taste of her lips and the slickness of them. She tastes like strawberries, but I know from kissing her a lot that she likes to use flavored lip balm. Yesterday, it was peach. I take her bottom lip between my teeth and lick it, then slip my tongue between her lips in quick, light strokes until she moans and grasps my head, mashing her mouth to mine.

  When I pull my head away, she makes the sweetest frustrated noise.

  "Only a minute," I say, standing up, "and then I'll give you what you deserve."

  She trails her fingers over her body, from her breasts all the way down to the hairs that mark the part of her I know will be slick and hot and ready for me. Arden gets aroused faster than any woman I've ever known, and I love that about her. I love her body. I love her smile too, and her laugh, her energy, her enthusiasm for everything, and---

  I stop in the middle of taking my trousers off and stare at her. The things I've been thinking...

  "You look anxious again," she says. "Like you did a few minutes ago. What's wrong, Reese?"