Tempt Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps)

by Teagan Hunter

  “Hey, Holls—have you talked to Mom?”

  I haven’t talked to either of my parents in weeks and especially haven’t spoken with my mother. We’ve never been on the best of terms, but ever since Sutton’s confession, I’ve been more annoyed with her.

  “Not lately. Why?”

  “She’s been trying to get ahold of you. There’s a charity gala and our presence has been requested.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Holland…” he says in the big-brother tone of his he rarely pulls out. “If I have to go, you do too.”

  “Why are you going?”

  “They’re raising money for supplies for schools in low-income districts. I’m the only teacher she knows, so Mom asked me to speak.”

  Shit.

  “Please. For me.”

  “And me,” River says. “I am so not part of that fancy world. Based on you guys’ stories, I feel like I need some backup.”

  She’s not kidding there. That world will eat you alive if you’re not careful.

  But still, going back home after everything that went down with my father, after finally feeling like I’m doing okay on my own and like I didn’t make a huge mistake breaking away from him, it scares me.

  “I don’t know, Dean…”

  “Bring Sutton,” he suggests. “He’s a pro at those things. You two can keep River entertained while Mom shows me off.”

  Sutton stiffens beside me, and I’m sure he’s experiencing the same emotions I am. He has problems with his own family he needs to settle.

  Don’t even get me started on the history between us and those events.

  “We’ll go,” Sutton tells him, and my mouth drops open in surprise.

  I whip my head up at him, but he’s not looking at me.

  He’s smiling at Dean, but I see how tight his shoulders are, the tic in his jaw. He’s just as scared as I am.

  “Besides,” he says, “someone has to help River heckle you.”

  I guess we’re going to face the past after all.

  14

  Sutton

  Up until this moment, I’ve had no problem keeping my distance from Holland at work.

  Well, that’s not entirely true.

  I wouldn’t say no problem.

  Truth be told, I’ve been spending a lot of time talking my dick down, and I’ve even had to excuse myself from a few meetings because every time she gets up there and starts controlling a room, it makes me way hornier than I’d like to admit.

  Holland is gorgeous in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

  She’s gorgeous in nothing but a blush too.

  But when she’s in her element, kicking so much fucking ass, looking so strong and fearless? It does something special to me I can’t quite explain.

  And right now, that’s what’s happening.

  Everyone’s eyes are on her because she’s been presenting for the last fifteen minutes.

  Mine are on her for entirely different reasons.

  Reason #1: the way her longs legs look with a pair of red heels on her feet. I wonder how good they would feel digging into my back as I fucked her in them.

  Reason #2: the way her ass looks in her skirt. I’m dying to know what panties she’s wearing under it.

  Reason #3: the buttons on her top that are straining against the material. I’m betting if she arched her back far enough, they’d pop, and her beautiful tits would break fee, leaving me able to suck on her nipples like I did this morning before the sun rose.

  “So, as you can see,” she says, one hand on her hip, the other holding a clicker as she moves through slides on the big screen hanging in the office, “if we’re able to execute the initial lead generation with success, HoneyWallet will see a million-dollar profit in the first sixty days of release.”

  A few people nod, a couple others murmuring in agreement, and Holland grins with satisfaction.

  “Thank you, Holland. That was great and full of so much useful information.” Jessa claps her hands. “We look forward to seeing how this plays out.”

  Last week, Jessa asked everyone who had applied for the project manager promotion to create a presentation as a way of testing our abilities to run a team successfully.

  I gave mine yesterday, and the moment we got home, Holland dropped to her knees and asked me to repeat it as she deep-throated me.

  I had no idea talking analytics could be so fucking hot.

  “Good stuff, huh?” Emma leans over to me. “She did good.”

  I honestly forgot she was even sitting next to me, being so focused on Holland.

  I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah. It was great. I think her projections are spot-on.”

  “It wasn’t as good as yours though,” she says as we rise from our chairs and make our way out of the meeting room.

  She stays hot on my heels all the way to the break room, leaning against the counter right next to me as I grab a mug from the cabinet, plop a pod of coffee into the machine, and press brew.

  “I’m not trying to be mean,” she continues, crossing one leg over the other, then folding her arms over her chest. Her tits are practically hanging out of her blouse with the movement. She lifts a shoulder. “I’m just being honest. You are way better suited for the project manager position than she is. You just have this…air of authority she’s lacking. You know what I mean?”

  Emma grins at me as she says it, thinking she’s complimenting me, but she’s fucking wrong.

  Holland’s report was way better than mine. It was significantly more detailed, and I think it was far easier to execute than what I came up with for the client.

  And that’s without me even getting into how well she was able to handle being open to criticism and discussion without allowing anyone else to just take over the meeting.

  She fucking killed it, and Emma suggesting otherwise just pisses me off.

  “I think she did an incredible job and we’d all be lucky to have her leading our team,” I tell her, praying I don’t snap at her before my coffee is finished.

  “You’re just being modest.” Emma’s hand lands on my bicep and she gives it a squeeze. “Which is silly. We both know you’re much more qualified for the promotion than she is. You have more experience in the field than her. She was an assistant before this.” The condemnation drips off the word assistant. “That’s a far cry from being ready for project management.”

  I clench my jaw tight. “Uh…”

  “I mean, your father is the Reginald Barnes. He is a legend in the business world. You’re a Barnes, for crying out loud—of course you’re going to be able to lead a team better than anyone else. I can’t believe Jessa is going through this whole charade. It’s obvious you’re the best candidate for the promotion.”

  And there it is.

  The reminder that I’ll forever be nothing more than a Barnes.

  I had hoped that when I moved here, I wouldn’t be constantly reminded of where I came from. That I could finally just be me.

  When Jessa hired me, she made it clear she was hiring me based on the merits of my resume and not my name, which was why I started where I did. I thought maybe I could work my way up to the top on my accomplishments alone.

  And with things going so well, being in the running for a promotion I know I’ve truly earned because of my hard work…well, I almost forgot there are people who only care about my last name and not the man behind it.

  “Oh! Hey, Holland!” Emma says, and I take her distraction as a chance to step away from her touch. “Your presentation was so great. Sutton was just telling me how he thinks you’d be a great project manager.”

  Holland’s eyes find mine as she struts into the room. She quirks a brow my direction. “Was he now?”

  “I have a few notes, but we can discuss them later if you’d like.”

  I bring my coffee to my lips, hoping to hide my smile at the way her eyes flicker with heat, catching my double entendre clearly. I have every intention of reciprocating the blow job she gave
me yesterday.

  She moves to the fridge, looking for her afternoon Diet Coke I’m sure. “I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

  She says it so casually, but I see it, the way a flush begins to creep up her neck, the way her nipples begin to strain against her blouse. Settling back against the counter across from me, she cracks the tab on her soda, never once taking her eyes off me.

  I ache to crowd against her and shove that skirt over her hips and eat her right now.

  Thankfully Emma pulls my attention back to safe territory before I do something dangerous.

  “So nice of you to offer to help her. I’m going to grab some lunch. I brought a few homemade chocolate chip cookies if you’d like to try any, Sutton.”

  I give her a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m on a diet.” I tap my stomach. “Have to keep my figure nice and tight somehow.”

  Her eyes spark with interest, her tongue snaking out to slip across her lips. “Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job. Let me know if you want to cash in that rain check tonight.”

  With that, she saunters from the room, making sure to put an extra sway in her hips.

  It does nothing for me.

  Holland snorts out a laugh as soon as she’s out of earshot.

  “So nice of you to offer to help me, Sutton,” she teases. “I’m really looking forward to those notes.”

  I stalk toward her, not stopping until our feet are touching. She stands up straight, meeting my challenge.

  “You’re playing with fire,” I warn her.

  “I have no idea what you could possibly mean.” She bats her lashes innocently. “I’m just saying I appreciate your interest in helping me get this promotion. It’s chivalrous of you, really, offering your expertise to your rival.”

  She giggles at her teasing, but it comes to an abrupt stop when I take a step closer, pressing myself dangerously close. I drop my lips to her ear.

  “I may be your rival here at work, Holland,” I whisper, “but just remember it’s my name you’re moaning at night.”

  She inhales a stuttered breath, her chest brushing against mine as she struggles for air.

  “S-Sutton…”

  I pluck a stirrer from the holder behind her, then step away. I dunk it into my drink, pretending to stir my coffee.

  “See you back out there, princess.”

  I wink and leave her standing there gaping at me.

  “Get your shoes on. We’re going out.”

  She lowers her tablet—no doubt reading one of those steamy books of hers—and stares at me with brows crushed together from the other end of the couch. “We are?”

  “Yep,” I say, shoving her feet off my lap. “We have plans.”

  “Since when?”

  I shake my phone, standing. “Since five minutes ago.”

  “What plans? With whom?”

  “You’ll see. Up.”

  I grab her hand and tug, ignoring the loud meows from Artemis, who until just a second ago was sleeping peacefully on Holland’s stomach.

  Holland snuggles the cat close as she pushes off of the couch. “Sorry about him, Artie. He forgets sometimes the world doesn’t revolve around him.”

  She scowls at me, and somehow it matches the scowl the cat is giving me as I reach to run a finger between her ears.

  We did some research on the type of cat Artemis is and learned her breed is less allergenic than others, which would explain why I’m able to get away with an over-the-counter dose of allergy meds. As long as she doesn’t spend too much time rubbing against me, we’re able to co-exist just fine.

  “No, Artemis, she just sometimes forgets that I’m the boss around here.”

  Holland barks out a laugh. “You wish.”

  “Pretty sure I could tell you to strip naked and bend over the couch right now so I could fuck you and you’d listen.”

  Her eyes shine, loving that suggestion. “That doesn’t count.”

  I laugh. “It definitely does. Now, go get dressed or we’ll be late.”

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “No.”

  “Then how will I know what to wear?”

  “Trust me, there is nobody there you’ll be needing to impress. Just wear whatever you want.”

  I can tell she wants to ask more questions or argue but thinks better of it and marches down the hall to her room.

  I follow behind, heading into my own, stepping over the clothes strewn all over my floor. I was so fucking hard by the time we got home from work we barely made it to the bed before we were stripping each other’s clothes off and I had my way with her.

  I pull a shirt over my head, then exchange my sweats for jeans and head into the bathroom.

  I shake my head at the sight of all her things spread out on the counter. She’s had no problem making herself at home in here. I can’t remember the last time I saw her use her own shower.

  In fact, I can’t remember the last time she slept in her own bed either, probably not since we started this thing between us.

  We still haven’t talked about what’s happening. Every time it comes up, we change the subject or take our clothes off. I don’t think either of us is really ready to face it, not ready to acknowledge just what it truly means.

  Larry’s retirement is inching closer and closer, which means whatever is happening is also coming closer to an end.

  We’re already playing a dangerous game by being together and working together.

  There is no way we’ll be able to continue this if one of us gets the promotion.

  But that’s a problem for later, something we’ll work through when it comes to it.

  If it comes to it.

  Maybe neither of us will get it and we can continue on like we are.

  Sure, we’ll still need to hide it at work, but that’s a non-issue. We’re pros at it by now.

  Ignoring those thoughts like I have been for the past several weeks, I run my hands through my hair to brush it out, swipe on extra deodorant, and head for the living room to see if Holland is ready.

  To my surprise, she is. She’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a navy blue top that’s slightly cropped, leaving about an inch of skin showing. It’s simple but somehow still ridiculously sexy.

  “Is this okay?” she asks, waving her hand down her body.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Are you sure? Because if I knew where we were going, I’d have a better idea…”

  I shake my head, grinning. “I’m not telling you.”

  She tosses her head back with a groan. “Ugh. You suck so much.”

  “Pretty sure it’s you who does all the sucking.”

  A blush I’m becoming oh so familiar with steals up her cheeks.

  “Come on,” she says, pulling me toward the door. “Let’s go before I let you have your way with me again.”

  “Bingo? That’s the big surprise?”

  I ignore her, pulling her through the crowd, swerving between and around tables. The hall is packed to the gills with people. Some young, some old, and some who look like they’ve been knocking on death’s door for far too long.

  “This is a joke, right?”

  “Nope,” I say, spotting my destination and heading that way. “Not a joke. Totally serious.”

  “But…why?”

  I shrug. “Because it’s fun.”

  “Sutton!” Alma whoops, spreading her arms wide for a hug as she stands. “My good luck charm is here, ladies!”

  The other players at the table grumble as I wrap her in my arms and give her a squeeze. “Hey, Alma.”

  “I’m so glad you decided to come out. I’ve been missing you these last few weeks. I can use all the help I can get against these old shits.”

  “Hey!” says Betty-Ann, a woman decked out head to toe in baby blue. “Old my ass!”

  She’s lying. She’s definitely old.

  I give the table of patrons a grin. “Nice to see you all again.”

  “
Oh, it’s very nice to see you too.” Marge bats her eyes at me before turning a sour look toward Holland. “Who’s your friend?”

  I wrap my arm around Holland’s waist, pulling her close. “This is Holland, and it’s her first time, so be nice.” I give them all a pointed look, squeezing her hip. “Holls, this is my Aunt Alma, Betty-Ann, Marge, and that there is Freddie. He’s our DD for when we hit the bars later.”

  They all give her a wave, which she returns.

  “Holland, huh?” Alma asks, her eyes dropping to where my arm is slung around Holland’s middle. “As in your roommate?”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  A slow grin curls over her lips. “Well, Holland, it is lovely to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from my nephew.”

  “You have?” Holland worries her lip between her teeth, peeking up at me. “All good things, I hope.”

  “Oh, yes. Very good things.”

  I scowl at Alma in warning but she ignores me, grabbing Holland and pulling her into the chair next to her.

  “Come sit with me, dear. I’ll teach you all about bingo and tell you the story of the time Sutton shit himself in my pool.”

  Holland barks out a laugh, looking up at me. “Oh, I am so happy you brought me now.”

  I spend the rest of the evening alternating between playing bingo and watching Holland and Alma bond.

  I lose track of the number of times Holland peeks over at me with a secretive smile on her lips. Forget how many times she tosses her head back in laughter, a look of pure joy on her face. And I couldn’t even begin to count how often her smile makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room.

  That damn lump that’s been in my throat for weeks settles in my chest, making itself at home like it’s here to stay.

  15

  Holland

  “I can’t believe I let my brother talk me into this,” I gripe.

  “Fop voving.”

  “Huh?”

  Caroline, the woman who is currently making adjustments to my dress, pulls the sewing pin from her mouth. “I said stop moving. I almost stabbed you.”