My brothers roommate, p.10
My Brother's Roommate, page 10
I flinch back an inch. The car dealership? Is this the same Connor who once told me he’d sooner lick the floor of the train station than pay for a vehicle sticker just for the privilege to park in the city?
“The dealership? What, does your motorcycle need work?”
He swallows hard, slowly shaking his head. “Nope. Sold it.”
All right, now I’m positive he’s sick in the head. No fucking way did Connor Blake sell his baby. He cares more about that thing than any woman he’s brought back to our apartment in the last year and a half.
I squint at him, assessing him for signs of sarcasm, but I come up empty. All I can do is call his bluff. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about that?” He frowns, his eyes brimming with something close to . . . sadness? Like he’s grieving a loss. And in many ways, he is, if what he says is true. That bike was like his trophy wife.
“So, why’d you sell it?” I press, but the second I ask, his guard instantly shoots back up.
“None of your business.”
“Of course it’s my business.” I huff, taking a step closer. “My roommate just sold his most prized possession and is buying a car, which he said he’d never do. You’re not telling me something.”
“Can you just drop it?” His voice is strained, but I have no intention of letting this go.
“Absolutely not.”
He sighs behind a clenched jaw, his hands balling into fists. “And why not?”
I nearly laugh. Do I really have to spell it out for him? “Because it’s fucking annoying to look at you, know something’s up, and not have you tell me what it is.”
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than the realization of their weight hits me. Like someone just swung a pillowcase full of bricks directly at my head.
Someone you care about not telling you what’s wrong with them.
Well, shit, that sounds familiar. It’s exactly what I’m doing to Penelope. I haven’t opened up to her and told her about my issues, but now I’m pissed because Connor is doing the same thing to me.
Connor looks me over with suspicion. “Now you’re the one who looks like a hungover zombie,” he says with a vicious smirk. “What gives?”
I let go of a shaky breath. I feel like the biggest hypocrite in the city of Chicago, and not telling him what’s going on just solidifies that title. But I’m not about to go there with Connor. He’d break my neck if he knew any of what’s gone down between me and his sister.
“Make you a deal,” I say. “I don’t make you fess up to whatever your problem is, and I don’t have to tell you shit about mine.”
His chin dips in a firm nod. “Sold.”
It’s quiet between us, and for a second I think we’re going to shake on it or something. But then Connor clears his throat into his fist, shifting his weight between his feet.
“I, uh . . . I’m serious about the car dealership, though. Any chance I can hitch a ride?”
I snatch my keys from my back pocket and tip my head toward the back door. “We’ll let Hayes and Ever man the fort. Let’s roll.”
We drive in near complete silence, just the sound of the radio and the occasional direction from Connor. But silence doesn’t bother me. It never has.
Plus, my mind is busy working through other things, like how I’m going to make things right with Penelope. That is, if she’ll even forgive me for ghosting her the other night after she made me a home-cooked meal. Lord knows it’ll take a long-ass time for me to even forgive myself. But if there’s anyone worth being vulnerable with, it’s her.
“This is the one.” Connor points me toward the parking lot of the car dealership ahead with its bright lights and row after row of shiny new cars. “The one with the SUVs.”
I have to swallow my laugh. Connor Blake driving an SUV? I must be living in an alternate reality.
And in this reality, maybe I can show Penelope that I can let my guard down. All the way down.
14
* * *
WOLFIE
When Connor announces his sister is coming over tonight, it’s unexpected. And when Penelope shows up later with a six-pack of his favorite beer and a smile on her face, it’s hard to pretend I’m not affected.
Things have been a little confusing between us lately, but there’s one thing that’s crystal clear—we have a strong mutual attraction. Because I’d have to be blind not to notice the way her eyes keep straying over to mine, or the way her hand lingered when she passed me a beer earlier—like she wanted to keep touching me, however brief it might be.
Connor seems oblivious, thank fucking God.
It was a long week of work, and I’m thankful for the chance to blow off a little steam. And the view doesn’t suck, if I’m being honest. The sight of Penelope sitting on the couch across from me, dressed in a pair of skintight jeans and a pink sweater that hugs her perfect tits? Yeah, sign me the heck up.
“So, what’s new, baby sister?” Connor asks, settling into the armchair beside the couch with his ankle crossed over one knee.
He’s been so distracted lately, but right now, about four beers in, he seems relaxed. I wonder if Penelope noticed that he’s been off too.
Wonder if that’s part of why she came over tonight . . . maybe she’s here to cheer him up? I can’t let myself believe she’s actually here to see me. That could mess with a guy’s head pretty good. Especially when I’ve been nothing but confusing with her.
“Just living the dream,” she answers with a smile.
I chuckle and listen in rapt attention as she fills us in on work and the latest with that douche Spencer. Connor and I both laugh at her impression of him trying to fix the copier.
The conversation flows easily for a while, but we don’t talk about the elephant in the room—Connor selling his prized motorcycle. Then again, maybe Penelope doesn’t know yet. The guy is clearly keeping a few secrets, and I’m not going to be the one to out him. It would be more than a bit hypocritical.
When Penelope excuses herself to go to the kitchen for another beer, it takes every bit of willpower I have not to follow her into the kitchen for some privacy. We still haven’t gotten the chance to talk after I just dashed out of her place the other night when things got hot and heavy—but it doesn’t seem like Penelope is going to hold a grudge.
What’s that called when someone lets you off the hook, even when you really don’t deserve it? Oh yeah, grace.
Penelope is giving me grace. She hasn’t demanded answers or questioned me. It just shows what a truly amazing woman she is. She’s mature and responsible and kind. And she sure as shit doesn’t deserve to end up with a guy like me, but for right now, I’m counting myself lucky just to be in her presence. Just the chance to sit here and listen to her talk and see her pretty blue eyes light up when she looks at me is enough.
“Should we call it a night?” Connor asks, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. “You’re obviously staying the night,” he says to Penelope.
To my surprise, she doesn’t protest. “That works.”
I’m relieved when she agrees to sleep on the couch, because I wouldn’t want her taking a cab at this time of night.
Connor and Penelope head off in search of extra blankets and pillows. Since it would probably look strange if I lingered—I’m not here to tuck Penelope in, for fuck’s sake—I head to my room, calling out a good-night to them both on my way.
But I’m not tired, and it takes me a long time to relax once I do lie down.
About twenty minutes later, my bedroom door opens. Then the corner of my mattress dips, and I open my eyes to see Penelope crawling across the mattress toward me in the darkness.
A surprised sound leaves my lips as her mouth presses to mine.
“Penelope?” I say warily.
She makes a shushing sound and crawls on top of me. My heart takes off in a gallop. I can’t think straight with her straddling me.
“What are you doing?”
“Seducing you,” she murmurs, her voice husky. “Is it working?”
We’ve both been drinking. This isn’t the way I wanted things to go for us. Especially not with her brother nearby.
“Connor will hear you,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Not if we’re quiet.”
Then she leans in for a kiss, and I’m powerless to refuse her. Bad idea, Wolfie, my brain warns.
Her mouth moves enthusiastically over mine, and I kiss her back as emotions war inside me. But she feels so good with her warm curves on top of me, and the scent of her shampoo filling my senses. My hands wander to her ass and I tug her even closer, lifting my hips so I can press my quickly hardening cock against her.
All the breath rushes out of my lungs at once. I feel almost light-headed. Hot. Aroused. And stressed the fuck out because there’s no way this can go any further.
“Penelope, we can’t.”
Her mouth leaves my neck, and she gives me a look. “Because you don’t want to?”
“Because your brother is on the other side of this wall.”
She moves off of me, sliding to the bed beside me. “You’re lying. You just don’t want me.”
I hate that she thinks that. But what else is she supposed to think? I keep pushing her away. I curl my fingers around my erection through my boxer briefs. “Does this look like I don’t want you?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
“I would pound you against the bed right now if I could.”
“You can.” She’s breathless when she responds, then whispers, “Yes. To the pounding.”
I chuckle darkly. “Not like this. Not when we’re drunk and hiding from Connor.”
Disappointment flashes over her features. And then she’s leaning over, kissing my neck, sucking feverish little spots all over the column of my throat.
A hot zing of arousal flashes through my veins, making my groin tighten and my dick swell in eager anticipation. God, I want her. I’ve never wanted anything more.
Her voice soft and needy, she says, “Tell me what you’d do to me if you could . . .”
I touch her cheek, bringing her lips up to mine once again for a kiss. She whimpers lightly when my tongue touches hers.
It takes a heroic amount of strength on my part when I pull back, breaking our kiss. “You really want to know?”
After a beat of silence, she gives me an eager look, pressing her lips together as she nods her head.
“First, I’d strip you naked,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her mouth. “Then I’d suck on those pretty little nipples, lick and tug on them with hot, wet suction until you were squirming.”
She makes that needy whimpering sound again, and it sends a holt of heat straight to my balls. Damn.
“Then I’d touch your pussy, rub your clit softly, just to tease . . . just to make sure you were wet for me.” My voice is a husky rasp, barely above a whisper, but Penelope’s eyes are glued to mine. I wish like anything my hand really was in her panties right now, rubbing slow circles that made her eyes sink closed.
“What else?” she murmurs.
I press a kiss to her neck. “I’d play with your pussy for a while. Make sure you were soaking wet for me . . . about to come . . . just from me rubbing your clit.” Her lips part and she draws in a quick breath. “Then I’d sink my cock inside your perfect, tight pussy and start pounding hard . . . I wouldn’t hold back, sweetheart. You’d have to take all of me.”
“I could take all of you,” she whispers, her voice ragged.
I tilt my head, giving her a hard look. “But could you keep quiet for me? While my thick cock is filling you?”
She licks her lips but doesn’t answer.
“I can go for a long time,” I remind her.
She nods once, meeting my eyes, likely remembering what I’d told her before . . . that it takes me a long time to come. Although, right now I doubt that would be true. If she so much as wrapped me in her fist and gave my cock a few tugs, I’d embarrass myself and jizz all over her hand.
“I’d take it all,” she says softly, encouragingly, her eyes pleading with mine.
“That’s good. Because I’d want to fill you, claim that pussy. And I’d keep hammering it until you came all over my dick.”
She whimpers again, and the sound rips through me. The mental image jumps into my head of her on her knees, taking my cock into her mouth, licking and sucking off all of her sweet cream. I force in a sharp inhale and try to cool myself down.
I didn’t even know this side of myself existed. This dirty-talking, sex-forward fuckboy. But Penelope seems into it. And everything I’ve said is true. I do want her right now. I’d fuck her hard and fast . . . or slow and deep . . . whichever she wanted.
I’m this close to grabbing her and just saying fuck it. Who cares if Connor’s bed is on the other side of this wall?
Thankfully, cooler thoughts prevail.
We can’t. Not like this.
With one final kiss to her lips, I take her hand and tug her from the bed. I adjust my cock inside my boxer briefs, since walking is a little difficult at the moment, and escort her to the door. “But none of that can happen tonight.”
She’s glassy-eyed, flushed with arousal, but she nods. “You suck.”
“Good things come to those who wait.” I press one last kiss to her forehead.
“Good night, Wolfie.”
“Night, sweetheart.”
When I open the door, she tiptoes from my room and back down the hall into the darkened living room.
I stand there at the door, even after she’s gone, and squeeze my eyes closed.
When I crawl back into my bed, I can still smell her shampoo on my pillow. I close my eyes and inhale as my right hand slips under the elastic of my boxer briefs. I’m as hard as a fucking fence post, and as I run my hand up and down my cock, I draw a shaky breath as pleasure washes over me.
I wonder if Penelope is doing the same thing on the couch. Maybe she’s rubbing her clit like I wanted to . . . or maybe she’s sinking her fingers into her warmth beneath the blankets. The thought only makes me harder. My fist moves in short, efficient strokes, and I clench my jaw as blinding pleasure riots through every cell in my body. It’s not long before I come all over my stomach.
Fuck.
I’m breathing hard and my heart is beating out of control when I grab a wad of tissues to clean myself up with.
I have no idea what the hell just happened, but it’s time to face reality. This isn’t just about sex anymore. Things between Penelope and me are evolving. I find myself opening up to her in ways I haven’t with anyone else before. Wanting things I’ve never wanted before.
It’s a dangerous situation to be in—with my roommate’s sister, of all people. But it doesn’t scare me nearly as much as it used to.
15
* * *
WOLFIE
After trudging up the steps, I enter a small office. The receptionist asks my name and then waves me on through the door at the far end of the room.
“Go on in. She’s expecting you.”
With nervous knots tying intricate patterns inside my stomach, I step through the doorway, but stop almost immediately.
A middle-aged woman sits behind a desk. Her hair is dark but threaded with silver, and she smiles and removes a pair of purple reading glasses when she spots me.
“Hi there. Come on in.”
I take one more tentative step forward, then stop.
This was a stupid idea. My life has felt a little out of control lately. I thought talking with someone—a professional—might help. Now I don’t think I can go through with it.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time. I don’t know why I’m here.”
“It’s fine. Wolfgang, right?”
“Wolfie.” I nod.
“Wolfie, it’s fine. You’re not wasting my time. And it’s okay to feel apprehension. But since you’re here, maybe we can talk for a few minutes. Please sit down.” She gestures toward the seating in the office. When I don’t budge, the therapist raises her hands in a show of surrender, her palms facing me. “Whatever you want to do. I’m only here to help.”
I release a slow breath. “I guess I could stay for a few minutes.”
She gives me a warm smile, but I can feel her eyes appraising me, watching everything as I select a seat—the chair across from her desk, rather than one of the cozy armchairs under the windows.
“So, how does this work?” I ask, pressing my hands into my knees.
God, I feel so jumpy, so on edge. This is ridiculous. It’s just that I’ve never opened up and told someone my truth before. But now . . . with Penelope . . . it’s different. She has me wanting to try things I’ve never been interested in before. Intimacy. A relationship, maybe. Hell, I don’t know.
“Well, usually people start off by telling me what’s going on in their lives. Usually, they’re here because they need help navigating a situation or working through a season they’re facing.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
Removing her glasses, she smiles again, lines forming beside her eyes as she watches me. She seems nice enough. I guess I just didn’t count on it being so hard to open up to a complete stranger, even if this is her job.
“So, what’s been going on in your life, Wolfie?”
I press my hands together in my lap. “Well, um . . . my roommate’s being really secretive lately.”
She doesn’t say anything else. She just keeps watching me, and when she finally opens her mouth to reply, the words are not at all what I’m expecting. “I don’t think you’re here to talk about your roommate.”
“You don’t?”
She shakes her head.
I release a long, strained exhale. Why the fuck am I here?
The other night, when Penelope sneaked into my room, I found myself wanting to be someone different, to be bold and reckless and just give in to everything. But sadly for me, when I woke up in the morning, I was still that same broken guy. I have no idea why, but I thought this would help. Now it feels way too invasive.
