“Sorry for the wait,” Gavin said to the driver after they climbed in.
“No worries,” the guy replied as he put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic.
Gavin figured it probably didn’t matter since he’d have to pay for the time whether the guy was kept waiting or not.
Blake smoothed a hand over his chest. “I really like this whole brooding artist thing you have going.”
Gavin looked down at himself. “What do you mean? I’m not brooding.”
“You’re wearing a black shirt with black pants. It’s very dark and mysterious. And the top button being left open ups the hotness factor.”
“You don’t think I should’ve worn a tie?” he asked.
“No. Ties are boring. And in this outfit, you are definitely anything but boring.”
“So what I’m wearing makes you…excited?”
“I am dripping with excitement.”
Gavin knew they weren’t being nearly as subtle as they hoped, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared for a minute at the woman who made him feel brave and strong and so fucking alive he sometimes felt like he would burst from it. “I seriously couldn’t love you more.”
Blake seemed to startle slightly at his words, but then a slow smile spread across her lips. “Back at ya.”
He reached over and laced his fingers with her before settling back into the seat. The drive was fairly quick, and before he knew it, Gavin was standing in front of the gallery that was showing his photographs, as well as some work of a few other artists. He stared up at the building for a couple minutes, trying to take everything in.
Blake didn’t say anything. She just stood beside him and shared the moment with him. And he was supremely thankful for that. He’d told his parents about the show. They’d congratulated him in toneless voices that let him know they still found him lacking. And while that sucked, it was also okay. He hadn’t done any of this for them. Gavin was proud of himself, even if they weren’t.
“I’m ready,” he finally whispered.
She squeezed his hand in reply, and they walked into the gallery. The space was fairly large and teeming with people. While Gavin had hoped the variety of artists would draw a crowd, he hadn’t even let himself hope for the kind of turnout that was awaiting him.
As soon as they were in the door, the gallery owner’s assistant was on them. “There are already two critics here from the local papers, one from an art magazine, as well as three bloggers with impressive online followings. There are also quite a few big buyers here. They all keep going back to your photos, so get over there and sell your ass off.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder that was more of a push.
He only made it a few steps before he froze. This was really happening. He’d put his work out there, and people were actually looking at it, critiquing it, maybe ripping it to shreds. He had so much riding on tonight. This was where he’d see if he really had what it took to make it in this world. What if I find out I don’t? He’d managed to keep that doubt mostly at bay leading up to the show, but now that he was here, he couldn’t deny how much he wanted this—wanted to fit into this world that he’d sacrificed so much to be a part of.
“If you could not literally sell your ass off, that’d be great. I need something to grab onto when you’re banging the hell out of me.” Blake’s words were whispered in his ear and broke through the temporary paralysis he’d succumbed to. She couldn’t have said anything more perfect.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. You can, however, sell my ass, since I see it hanging over there.”
Gavin looked in the direction of her gesture and saw a picture he’d taken of her in their kitchen. She had been trying to reach a bowl on the top shelf of one of their cabinets and had put her palms on the countertop to hoist herself up. One foot was dangling while her other knee found purchase on the Kama Sutra tiles as she reached up for the bowl with one hand. Her body was elongated elegantly and her auburn hair cascaded beautifully down her back, perfectly illuminated by a ray of sunlight that peeked through the kitchen window. The depth of field made the cabinets slightly out of focus, drawing the eye to Blake in the best possible way.
Gavin had taken hundreds—maybe thousands—of pictures when the gallery had told him they wanted to feature his work after seeing his portfolio. He had walked around for weeks with his camera around his neck searching for inspiration. But he’d found most of it in their apartment. As it turned out, his muse was a foul-mouthed, sex-obsessed, gorgeous woman whom he was crazy about. Of the fifteen images he’d chosen for the show, seven of them were of Blake. He would’ve put up more of her, but he’d wanted to show that he was capable of taking pictures of more than one subject. His theme was candids, which was vague as hell. He wasn’t sure how the gallery owner Siobhan hadn’t objected to it, but he was glad since it allowed him to photograph almost anything he came across. And while printing and framing them had been expensive, when he saw them hanging on the wall, perfectly lit and in front of a crowd who seemed to appreciate them, the cost was worth it. He’d worry about how he was going to eat later. For now, he was allowing himself to bask in the moment.
He began to mingle as people came to look at his work. Blake stayed near him but seemed content to let him do his thing while she maintained silent support. There was interest in his work, which was enough for him. He hadn’t come in expecting to sell much, if anything, and that was okay. He was in it for the validation. And as much as it surprised him, he was getting it.
As he spoke to a man and woman about where his inspiration had come from, his eyes strayed to Blake. She was watching him, a slight smile on her face, her eyes warm. He knew she was so much more than the inspiration for his art. She was his inspiration to be a better man. And he vowed then and there to never do anything to lose it.
* * *
Blake loved watching Gavin in his element. And no matter how nervous he’d been, this was his element. Talking to people about his art was natural for him, despite the fact that Gavin wasn’t typically much of a talker. The passion was clear in his tone, and it drew people to him and made them take an interest in his work. Even though by the end of the night, he’d only sold three photographs, he was still on cloud nine. The gallery owner told him three was actually a good showing for an unknown photographer and that there would likely be more in the following weeks.
A few of Gavin’s friends, as well as Celeste and Emily, had stopped by to offer support, which Gavin had clearly been touched by. The night wore on, and Blake remained mostly quiet—a true feat for her—content to let Gavin mingle and make new friends. But she couldn’t lie. When the evening was finally over, Blake was more than ready to go home. Standing around had been oddly exhausting, and as she got into the Uber they’d requested to take them home, Blake sprawled across the back seat, her legs dangling out the door.
“Uh, you going to scoot in so I can sit down, or should I just lie on top of you?” she heard Gavin ask.
Blake was silent as she thought over her options, but her thinking was cut short by the driver firmly stating, “Having sex back there is a hundred dollars extra.”
Blake raised up onto her elbows so she could look at the driver. “A hundred? That’s all?”
The driver shrugged in reply.
Blake had more questions, but Gavin pushed her feet to the floor, causing the rest of her body to swivel around.
“Don’t even think about it,” Gavin warned, though his voice was laced with humor.
“Too late. I’ve been thinking about it since he said it.”
Gavin shook his head, but he was smiling. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Well, you’re obviously not going to fuck me in the back of this car, so I’m out of ideas,” she grumbled.
“You? Out of ideas? I find that highly unlikely.”
Blake couldn’t suppress her smile. “Maybe I have a few ideas.”
“That’s my girl.” Gavin put his ar
m around her and pulled her to him. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Craning her neck so she could look up at him, she asked, “For what?”
“Everything. Convincing me to get off my ass and give my art a real shot, supporting me at the show, making me happy. Just everything.”
Blake tucked her head under his chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone happy before.” The words were out before she could censor them, as usual. She truly did wish she hadn’t said them though. They made the moment too much about her when it was supposed to be all about him.
But Gavin handled it as only he could. “That’s because everyone you’ve met before me is dumb as hell.”
A laugh bubbled up as she tried to melt into him. The drive home passed quickly, and Blake couldn’t help her own nerves from rearing up. She wanted to do something special for Gavin to celebrate, and she hoped he liked what she’d done.
They walked up to their apartment hand-in-hand, and Gavin moved to open the door, but Blake wanted to be the first inside. She practically bodychecked him out of the way before slipping her key into the lock and pushing the door open. Once they were both inside and the door was closed, Blake turned on a light in the living room.
She heard Gavin suck in a breath behind her, but she was too scared to turn and face him. So she stood rooted to the spot and let him wander around the room and took in the change of decor.
After her initial freak-out over the picture of the two of them, Gavin hadn’t hung any others. She knew he was respecting her space and giving her time to acclimate to their relationship. But pictures were Gavin’s life, and she didn’t want him to compromise that part of himself just to suit her.
Despite the fact that Blake said a lot of words over the course of any given day, she wasn’t always the best at getting her meaning across. So she decided to forego words and give Gavin tangible evidence of how she felt about him. How they felt about each other. Because as she looked around the room at the various pictures that now hung on every wall in the room—as well as a few in the hall—it was clear that the feelings were mutual.
After a few minutes of looking around, he turned to her. “When did you do this?”
“I had Celeste and Emily hang them while we were at your show. I drew them a map and everything so they’d know what to put where. Celeste bitched about me being a pain in the ass, but it looks like they put each photo where I wanted it.”
“I don’t…I don’t know what to say.” Gavin looked stunned, and Blake wasn’t sure if it was the good kind.
“If you don’t like them, I can—”
Her sentence was cut off by Gavin striding toward her and crashing his mouth down on hers. The kiss was consuming and possessive and carnal, and it made Blake want to climb him like a spider monkey. So she did.
Gavin squeezed her ass through the fabric of her dress as she gyrated against him. She barely registered that they were moving until Gavin plopped down on the couch, still holding onto her tightly. He slid his hands under her dress and groaned. “Did you seriously not have underwear on tonight?”
“This dress is too tight. I would’ve had panty lines.”
“You couldn’t be more perfect,” he said before he took her lips in a frenzied kiss and all but tore her dress from her body. His hands left her briefly to undo his pants and then were back on her, guiding her to sit on his hard cock.
Blake moved her hands to grab onto the back of the couch as she rode Gavin like her life depended on it.
His hands were all over her as he pumped up into her. The room was filled with moans, whines, and the smacking of flesh as the two of them tried to get as close to one another as possible.
Blake felt her orgasm building all too soon. She wanted this moment between them to last forever—wished she could photograph it and hang it on the wall in her room, which they both now slept in.
Gavin’s cock pushed impossibly deep, stretching the walls of her pussy in the most delicious way, and she was a goner, her entire body clenching, causing her to fold over him as he continued to thrust into her.
“Fuck yeah,” he muttered before pumping into her twice more and then holding himself inside of her as his release emptied into her. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, his body twitching with his orgasm.
They rested their foreheads against one another’s, panting harshly.
Eventually, Blake caught her breath enough to speak. “So I guess that means you like the pictures.”
Gavin laughed, and it made his still half-hard cock move inside her, which made the thrill of a round two zip through her. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love them. And I love you.”
“That’s good, because you’re never getting rid of me.”
“You’re never getting rid of me either,” he replied.
Blake smiled at him before wrapping her arms around him, reveling in the man who would be her last roommate and the first love of her life.
Bonus Scene
An additional BONUS scene from Misadventures with a Roommate can be found in the back of Elizabeth Hayley's next Misadventures title. Preorder Misadventures of a Country Boy now!
Acknowledgments
First and foremost we want to thank Meredith Wild for inviting us to join her on this journey and for being a valued friend to us ever since the beginning.
To Scott Saunders and the editing team, thank you for adding polish to our story so it could shine.
Thank you to Robyn for getting the word out about us and making sure we finally took that damn picture!
To the rest of the Waterhouse Press team, thank you for your patience, insight, and support.
Sarah Younger, thank you for keeping us organized and calm (a tall order for anyone). Your belief in us keeps us going.
An extra special thanks to Danielle and the InkSlinger community for helping us get out of our own way.
The Padded Room, thank you for supporting our craziness. From posting links, teasers, and helping get our name out there, you are a vital part of our dreams. We love you ladies!
To Erik, Mya, and Mason: Thank you for all the love you give me every day. You inspire me to push myself beyond what I ever thought was possible.
To Nick and Nolan: I couldn't love two guys more than I love the two of you. Nick, you're the best Daddy, husband, and friend, and I love you more each day. Nolan, thank you for finally understanding that writing is one of Mommy’s jobs and for letting me open a computer next to you without smashing all the keys.
Don’t miss any Misadventures!
Misadventures with a Rookie
Available April 10, 2018
Keep reading for an excerpt!
* * *
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Misadventures with My Roommate?
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Excerpt from Misadventures with a Rookie
Gus “the Bus” Persson was a showboating, entitled, rich fuck who got on my last nerve. His nickname? Please. Bus? He wasn’t a bus. He was just a meathead who ran into everyone! Rolling my eyes for the umpteenth time, I watched as the ice rink was littered with hats thrown for the crowd chanting his name and going nuts following his third goal.
Great. Not only did he ogle me with those sinfully gorgeous green eyes, but I had to clean up after his ass. As the door opened, the girls and I rushed to get the ice clean as fast as we could. In an arena with over fifteen thousand fans and sixty percent of them wearing hats, that wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. With each pile of hats I scooped up, I glared and cursed him as I watched him laughing and high-fiving his teammates.
Ugh, I hated the lot of them.
Especially the rookies. Grrr.
They were nothing but trouble. New players were all the same. They went around trying to prove something, fucking everything in their paths before leaving their bedmates in the dark. It was annoying, disgusting, and everything I hated about the sport of hockey. I used to be a fan—a huge fan, actually—w
hen I lived in Minnesota. Not liking hockey wasn’t very Minnesotan. Cheering for every hockey team from local high schools up to the pros was a done deal. That was our duty. It was what we did, and I did it well.
Of course, that all changed when I got involved with a player, and boom, things went to utter poo. Nasty poo. But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I had moved to California with the drive to succeed as a sports therapist.
Why on earth would I end up back in hockey when I hate hockey players? Well, hockey is what I know. It was really only the antics off the ice that sparked my hate. As a physical therapist, I’d mostly be working with injured players, and they weren’t the same at all. They were usually very driven, which I admired. There was a big difference between someone being a showboat—a guy who thought he was hot shit—and someone who was hurt but worked desperately to get back to the sport he loved. I enjoyed being around that type of hockey player, and I sure did love helping them.
Shaking my head, I looked around the arena full of people and bright lights, and exhaled hard. When I came to California for physical therapy school, I figured I’d work as a server in some restaurant and wait for my chance to intern, but that wasn’t the way the Malibu Physical Therapy program worked. They placed students in internships right away. From day one I received hands-on training, and I loved it. I was especially thrilled when I learned I would be interning with the Malibu Suns, the Twin Cities Tornadoes’ farm team.
During my orientation, I learned the Suns were hiring ice girls. I had done that in Minnesota, so I asked about it. To my surprise, I was hired on the spot. It was insane, but oh so awesome. I was studying a field I loved, had an awesome internship, and was working as both a skating instructor at the practice arena and an ice girl at the games. It was the perfect situation.
Misadventures with My Roommate Page 16
