And she would. If she thought he’d be agreeable.
“So,” she said, dragging her finger across the neckline of her shirt, internally pumping her fist as August’s gaze followed. “Are we going to talk about this chemistry thing between us?”
His eyes snapped up to hers, an internal struggle of massive proportions happening in them. But he didn’t say anything, just turned and stormed down the hallway.
“Guess not.”
She bent down to gather her wedges, slipping the shoes on before heading out her bedroom door to the front of the apartment.
“Where are you going?” August demanded as she reached the front door.
Oh, he was in a tizzy, wasn’t he? His own fault. She was more than willing to talk about or even engage in this heat thing happening between them. He was the stubborn one. Once she realized that, it made all her earlier anger and frustration melt away. Or maybe it was seeing August all riled up. Call her sick, but seeing the calm and collected man out of sorts gave her a gleeful sort of thrill.
Doing her best to hide her smile, she grabbed her cell and wallet, stuffing them into her mini-crossbody clutch and sliding the strap over her head. She lifted her chin and glanced at him over her shoulder.
“I’m going out.”
“Where?”
His voice was a growl. Deep and fierce and so sexy, she nearly melted into a puddle of need right there.
“I don’t have to answer to you, August Porter.”
And with that, she headed out the door and into the night.
Chapter Eleven
August glanced at the clock on the wall for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Time hadn’t magically gone faster since he last checked. It was still ten forty-five. Normally, he’d be in bed by now, especially on a weeknight, but he wasn’t the least bit tired. Cleaning usually wore him out, but he’d already cleaned the entire apartment earlier to work off the tension pulling every muscle in his body tight enough to snap.
The book he had open in his hands was on the same page it’d been on for the past half hour. He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t stop thinking about Mo. Where she was. What she was doing. Who she was doing it with.
She could be doing it with you, dumbass.
He slammed his book shut and tossed it on the coffee table. He did not need his own psyche against him, too. It had been hard enough resisting the temptation of Mo while living in such close quarters with the woman. But after that moment in the supply room…
All day, August had been playing the scene over and over in his mind. Wondering what would have happened if his grandmother hadn’t walked in on them. Would he have kissed her? Would she have kissed him back?
Hell yes. To both questions.
Which was the problem. Now that he knew this attraction went both ways, how the hell was he supposed to fight against it? Mo was giving him no help with the problem. Damn woman was doing the exact opposite. Encouraging the very bad idea of them getting together. And earlier, in her room.
Shit.
When he heard the sound of a crash and her scream, he’d imagined the worst. He hadn’t thought about the repercussions of rushing into her bedroom, the fact that she might be in a state of undress. His face burned just thinking about it. He’d never been so embarrassed or so turned on in his life. Mo had the most amazing breasts he’d ever seen, and he felt like an ass for catching a glance of them, even if it was only an accidental nanosecond of a peek.
She, however, hadn’t seemed the least bit self-conscious. Of course not, because she was Mo, and he’d never met a person so comfortable in their own skin, their own identity. Honestly, he kind of envied that about her. To be so sure of oneself must be nice. Sometimes, August had to wonder if the reason his parents shipped him back and forth so easily, created new families so quickly with their stepkids, was because something was wrong with him.
Had to be. He was the common denominator.
This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be sitting out here on the living room couch having a pity party. What was he, twelve? No. He was a grown-ass man. So what if he had the hots for his roommate? As a mature adult, he could act accordingly. He could resist things he knew were bad for him. Like processed foods and sexy roommates. That’s what being a grown-up was all about. Self-control.
Maybe a hot shower would calm his mind.
Rising from the couch, August headed toward his bathroom in the back of the apartment. He turned the faucet on full blast, stripping off his clothing and waiting until the hot steam started to rise before stepping into the shower stall. The scalding water pounded on his back. He was sure his skin would soon be as red as his hair, but the heat felt nice. At least it gave him a modicum of relief.
As he scrubbed up, an unbridled image of Mo entered his mind, standing in her room, top down around her waist, the neckline stuck underneath her breasts, lifting them like an offering, waiting to be worshipped, the dusky rose-colored nipples hard and standing at attention, just begging for his lips to caress them.
He felt his body harden. His hand spread the soapy water down his chest and abs until he grabbed his painfully hard erection, gripping himself as he imagined—
Whoa!
His eyes snapped opened. Lifting his hand, he placed both palms on the tile in front of him. Uh uh. No way. He would not fantasize about Moira while taking care of himself in the shower. That was just…wrong. He would not be that asshole. But his mind refused to think about anything else, so he turned and grabbed the temperature dial, cranking the water to ice cold and standing in the frigid temps until his erection got the memo.
No more thinking about Mo and sex in the same sentence.
When he finally felt like he’d beaten his body and hormones back into submission, August turned off the tap. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a towel and vigorously dried all the water from his body. As if by scrubbing the moisture off his skin he could scrub thoughts of taking Mo to bed right out of his mind. Didn’t work, but he could continue to deny himself.
He had to.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he tucked the corner in and headed out of the bathroom, down the hall to his bedroom, but on his way out, he immediately slammed into something small and soft.
“Ow!” Mo exclaimed, rubbing her nose. “Damn, August, you’re like running into a brick wall.”
Her hands landed on his chest when she tried to take a step back and tripped over his feet. The feel of her soft skin on him made the ten minutes he spent in the icy shower null and void. His body came to life at once. Hot and hungry, aching for her to touch him everywhere, move her hands just a foot or so lower to relieve the desperate need he felt for her.
Dammit! He’d just gotten himself under control.
He placed his hand on her shoulders, steadying her as she wobbled on those weird sandal shoes. He went to move away, but one of the dozens of jangly bracelets covering her wrists got caught on a thread of his towel. When Mo pulled her hand back to her side, his towel came with her, leaving August standing in front of his roommate, naked as the day he was born.
“Oh, wow.”
The soft exclamation left her lips as her gaze focused on him. Muttering a curse, he grabbed for his towel, still hanging by a thread from her bracelet. He tugged it, leaving a few terrycloth fibers on Mo’s jewelry. Not that she seemed to notice. Unlike him, she was not so polite as to avert her gaze when graced with an accidental peep show. Nope. Not Moira. She was looking her fill, and from the hunger in her eyes, she liked what she saw.
Puffed up his pride but it didn’t change any of the facts.
He wrapped the towel back around his waist, firmly securing the knot despite Mo’s forlorn whimper of objection.
“What are you doing home so early?” he demanded, not sure if he was irritated because he was embarrassed or because he was turned on. Probably both.
Yes, but he was counting on her being home after he’d taken his shower and was in his room for the night so he didn’t look like some lovesick puppy who’d stayed up waiting for her.
“I guess this means we’re even now.” She gave a small chuckle.
He said nothing, simply raised a brow. The sassy smile didn’t move off her face one inch, not even when he full-on scowled. He should have known better. Nothing intimidated Mo.
“You know, because earlier in my room, you saw my boobs, and now I’ve seen your—”
“Yes, Moira.” He interrupted before she could comment on just how much of him she’d seen. “I understand.”
Her eyes sparked with that mischievous glint that never boded well for him.
“Technically,” she said with a tilt of her head, “we’re not completely even. I mean, you got topsies, and I got southern hemisphere views.”
“Is that a polite way of saying you just ogled my junk?”
“I would in no way call anything I just saw ‘junk.’”
“Jeez, Moira.” He scrubbed his hands over his face.
“What?” She shrugged. “I was complimenting you.”
“You were complimenting my dick.”
“It’s a very nice dick.”
He tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a frustrated groan. “Can we not do this right now, please?”
“Do what?”
“Talk about our…” He waved a hand in the air between them. “Genitals.”
Her face scrunched up like she’d taken a bite of a sour lemon. “Well, not if you call them genitals. Technical terms are not sexy.”
“I’m not trying to be sexy.” He was trying to squash this completely inappropriate burning need he had for his roommate. And her strange humor was not helping matters.
“Look, August. I get that we’re roommates and we’ll be living together for the next few months so you think this thing is a bad idea, but what if you look at it from the other side?”
“There is no other side.”
“Oh, Gus Gus,” she sighed. “So blind to the truth.”
What truth? The reality was they were roommates and they did have to live together. That wasn’t an interpretation. It was solid fact.
“Fine.” If she wanted to play devil’s advocate, he’d let her. Wouldn’t change his mind though. “What’s the other side?”
She grinned as if she’d just won some secret game and he was the top prize. He wasn’t sure if he should be excited by that or terrified.
“Yes, we are roommates, and yes, we have to live together, but we also have this volcanic sexual attraction that’s about to explode and pour raging hot hormone lava all over us, right?”
He nodded. Not denying it but refusing to confirm it out loud. Mo gave a heavy sigh at his minimal participation but continued.
“So what do you think would be worse? Ignoring these desires we have for each other while we get more and more sexually frustrated, gripe at each other, and generally live in unfulfilled misery every day?”
Sounded like hell to him, but what was the alternative?
“Or.” Mo held up a finger. “What if we sated our cravings with a night of hot and wild sex?”
That sounded awesome except for… “But we still have to live together.”
“True.” Mo leaned back against the hallway wall. “But according to you, you’re only subletting for six months, and then you’re headed back out into the boonies to become a flower farmer or whatever they’re called.”
And he didn’t believe for a minute she wasn’t still trying to stop him from doing that. Not because of him. He didn’t think that much of himself. But he knew Mo had a fondness for his grandmother and wanted to help her save the shop by his staying in Denver.
“It’s just sex, August.” She stared at him with a question in her eyes. “You have had casual sex before, right?”
It was the only kind he’d had. But she didn’t need to know that.
“So you’re saying we just hop into bed and get it out of our systems?”
“Wow, such sweet talk.” Mo raised a dramatic hand to her forehead. “You really know how to make a woman swoon, Gus Gus.”
“Okay, if we do this thing, we need rules.”
That got her to drop the melodrama. She pushed off the wall and came to stand in front of him.
“Rules? Like a safe word?” Her eyebrows bobbed.
Safe word? They hadn’t even had sex once yet and the woman already wanted to incorporate BDSM. How like Mo to take it from 0 to 100 in the span of a second.
“No,” he replied. “I was thinking more along the line of emotional rules, like no taking this for something it isn’t.”
She held up one hand, placing the other over her heart. “I solemnly promise not to fall in love with you. But I can’t promise you won’t fall in love with me; I’m pretty damn lovable.” She gave him a flirty wink.
He rolled his lips in to hide a smile. Damn, this woman might just be the death of him.
“Anything else, Gus Gus?”
“No nicknames.”
“Aw,” she pouted. “Fine, but one of these days, you’ll wake up and find you love my nicknames.”
He highly doubted that.
“No falling in love and no nicknames.” She took a step closer, looking up at him from under her lashes. “Anything else?”
Yes, there was something else he knew was important, but he couldn’t think straight with her looking at him like that. Like he was a five-course meal and she was starving.
“Should we kiss on it?”
She lifted up on her toes, lips inches away from his, when his brain rapid fired the other issue he knew they needed to discuss before plunging into the water of this very bad idea.
“You can’t tell my grandmother.”
Mo rocked back down onto her feet. “What?”
“Gran. Agatha. You can’t tell her about this or she’ll be planning the flower arrangements for our wedding before I can put my pants back on.”
“You really know how to kill a mood, August.”
“I’m serious, Mo.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. “I’ll keep it a secret from Agatha, but the Porters really need to work on their communications skills.”
Huh?
Mo blew out a deep breath. “August, before we do this, I should…”
Her mouth snapped shut, brow furrowing. She looked like she was doing complex math equations in her head. Or contemplating cleaning.
“What?”
Her frown smoothed out. “Never mind. It doesn’t concern this.”
Okay. That was weird, but his brain was too focused on getting her naked to wonder too much what she was talking about.
“Now.” She popped back up on her toes, flinging her arms around his neck and bringing her mouth close to his so each word she uttered brushed their lips together in the barest of kisses. “Where were we?”
His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, tightening and pulling her into him until they were pressed flush against each other. A soft moan escaped her as he pressed his hardness against her stomach. His eyes damn near crossed feeling the softness of her breasts through her silky top crushed against the hardness of his naked chest.
“This is the best worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“Mmmmm, I think you need a few more worst ideas in your life, August.”
He did not agree, but what he did agree with was that he couldn’t fight this anymore. Couldn’t fight her. They were both adults. They knew the situation. Why couldn’t they indulge in their baser instincts and enjoy each other’s bodie
s? Mo was right. They wouldn’t be roommates forever, so even if this went south, it wasn’t like it would ruin either of their lives.
Just make it uncomfortable for a short time.
But it wouldn’t go bad. Because they’d both agreed to the rules.
“August.”
“Yeah?”
“Stop thinking and kiss me already.”
When she put it like that…
Dipping his head, August closed the infinitesimal amount of space between them, and his head damn near blew off. Kissing Mo was like kissing sunshine. All warmth and happiness. His entire body felt like it’d been lifted and was floating among the clouds. Just from the press of her lips to his.
She gasped, and he took initiative, thrusting his tongue into her mouth only to find hers eagerly waiting. She tasted even better than she felt. Sugary and light, like cotton candy. He felt like he was making out with a pixie from a fairy tale, but one of those darker ones where they trapped the men with sex and killed them.
He had a feeling that with Mo, death would be worth it.
Chapter Twelve
Best bad idea ever.
Mo felt like she was sliding down a rainbow into a pool of warm chocolate fondue. Seriously, being held in August’s arms while he kissed her was the best feeling she could possibly imagine. She just knew this man held a keg of sexual dynamite underneath all that grump and fussiness.
And boy was she right.
Right about now, she wouldn’t even be able to spell her name if it was written on a paper in large bold letters three inches from her face, because August had killed every single brain cell she possessed and replaced everything in her mind with the driving need to get in his pants. Or towel, as it were. Thank goodness she’d been able to get him to see the logic of her arguments. No way could she have gone another few months in this man’s constant presence and kept her hands to herself. He was more tempting than all the pineapple pizza in the world.
His large hands moved up her rib cage, creating energy-charged goose bumps as they went. Thick fingers curled against the stretchy elastic of her top’s neckline, tugging the shirt down underneath her breasts. The cool air of the apartment washing over her tight nipples did nothing to quell the fire burning inside her. She needed him. She needed August.
The Roommate Problem Page 10
