My brothers roommate, p.16
My Brother's Roommate, page 16
She barely hides her smirk behind her pink ceramic mug. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
“I would. I’ve put you through hell.”
“You’ve been through hell yourself,” she says, pausing to sip her chamomile, still watching me over the rim of her mug. “Connor and I talked about that too. It helped a lot.”
My eyes widen.
Wait, what? Never did I expect Connor Blake to actually be helpful in my effort to win over his sister, but wilder things have happened, I suppose. Like me falling for her in the first place.
“What did he say about me?” I ask.
“That you’re used to people giving up on you. And that I could be the one to break that pattern.”
“Damn.”
“Is it true?” she asks, her voice small.
“Maybe.” I reach across the table, taking her soft hand in mine.
Lucky for me, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezes tight onto my thumb, like she’s not going to let go. And I hope she never will.
“Listen, Penelope. I’ve always seen myself as so complicated. Too complicated. For you, for anyone. Thought I’d just be better off alone, not imposing my bullshit on anyone.”
“You’re not too complicated for me, Wolfie,” she says earnestly, blinking up at me with her sweet turquoise eyes.
It’s almost too much for me. I’m not used to feeling so much, but with her, it’s like my heart’s wide open and there’s no place to hide.
“You’re kind and generous,” she says, “and despite what you think, you’re a good man.”
I swallow. “I’m trying to understand that. To learn to accept my past and move forward with my future. And there’s no version of that future I can imagine without you.”
Her pretty pink lips barely part as she draws in a quick, shaky inhale. “How am I supposed to know you’re not just going to run away again?” She ducks her head, staring deeply into her mug, as if the answer were buried in there somewhere.
I don’t know how to convince her, to assure her that I’m not going to pack up and leave again. I’ve done an awfully good job of tarnishing my track record thus far. What can I say? What can I do?
“Move in with me.” The words fall from my lips faster than I can stop them, but once they’re out, I realize just how much I mean them.
Penelope, however, is rightfully confused. She recoils, pure shock draining the color from her face. “What? You’re insane.”
“No, I’m in love with you. And I don’t want to live alone when we could be there together. That’s how serious I am, Penelope. I want you with me, all the time, twenty-four/seven. Move in with me.”
Her features soften, and something beautiful and sweet shimmers in her eyes. “You’re . . . you’re in love with me?”
I can’t help the smile teasing my lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Sliding her mug aside, she pushes to her feet and leans over her tiny kitchen table, capturing my lips with hers. She tastes even sweeter than I remember. Like flowers and honey. Like my future.
Like home.
“I love you too, Wolfie,” she murmurs against my lips, then pulls back, leveling me with a dose of reality. “But can we at least wait until my lease is up before we talk about moving in together, though? Take things one step at a time?”
“Of course.” I nod. “Anything you need.”
She arches one mischievous brow, her wild eyes flickering. “Anything?”
“Anything.” I laugh, pulling her lips back to meet mine. “I’m following your lead.”
22
* * *
PENELOPE
Tonight, Wolfie Cox is all fire, no ice.
"What changed?" My question is soft, barely above a whisper. I don't want to question Wolfie, but I do want to understand him.
He gives me a soft look. "I realized there were two paths in life."
"Two?"
He nods. "My path or theirs."
"Theirs?"
He jerks his chin toward the windows. "Theirs. The world's."
"I see. And what have you decided?"
He pauses momentarily, eyes still trained on the windows. My heart rate increases as I wait, wondering what he'll say next, what he's chosen and trying to figure out why it means the world to me. But it does. I want so much for Wolfie to be free from whatever baggage is holding him back from living his life to the fullest.
"I've decided that it's my life, and it's the only one I've got. And that just because some shitty things happened, I won't give up or quit trying. I want to live, I want to be happy. I want to be with you, Penelope, even if I don't deserve you."
"You deserve the whole world, Wolfie. And I'd give it to you if I could. You're an incredible man."
He smiles and takes a step closer. "Will you go down this path with me then? I can't promise it won't get a little bumpy along the way."
I reach for his hand and when our palms touch, I lace my fingers with his. "No matter how bumpy things get, I'm here. We'll ride out any storm together."
"I'd like that very much."
He levels me with a deep gaze that I feel deep inside my soul.
I could feel it from the moment he showed up at my doorstep, his gray eyes blazing with a certainty I’ve never seen from him before. And again in my kitchen, when he spoke in a voice so unwavering, I would have thought he’d always been this sure. Of himself, of us, of everything.
He wants me. He loves me.
And now, tumbling through the doorway of my bedroom, his touch is hot on my skin, lighting little fires in my belly with every brush of his lips against mine. And with him, I’ve never been so eager to step into the flames.
“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he murmurs, trailing the back of his fingers along my cheek, moving to the base of my low ponytail, which he tugs loose, casting the band aside.
My hair tumbles over my shoulders, tousled and messy, much like everything about me tonight. But Wolfie doesn’t seem to mind.
He takes me in with a soft smile, his wide eyes blazing bright in the early winter darkness. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”
Before I can reply, he pulls me against him, his hold so tight that I can feel our heartbeats colliding with each other as our lips meet. Our kiss is slow and soft at first, as though we might break, then quicker and hotter, like wildfire. Unpredictably hot.
With his mouth sealed to mine, he walks me backward until my knees buckle against the bed, my shoulders sinking softly into the duvet. The shock sucks the air from my lungs for a moment, the same length of time it takes for him to peel off his soft cotton shirt and throw it aside.
I press up onto my elbows to watch him with wide, curious eyes, my heart thrumming out a steady, driving rhythm in my chest.
God, he’s gorgeous. All soaked in moonlight, like something from a dream.
Wolfie’s broad silhouette is backlit by the hallway light, giving him an almost otherworldly glow. I watch with wonder as he climbs over me, slipping deeper into shadow as he draws closer and closer. By the time his lips meet mine again, I can hardly see him in the darkness. But I don’t have to. He’s right here, within my desperate grip, slowly grinding his hips against mine.
“I want you.” His voice is a low growl against my neck that reverberates all the way to my toes.
“I’m yours,” I whisper back. My fingernails dig deeper into the muscles of his shoulders, showing him just how much I mean it. I’m his, only his, and I won’t let him slip away from me again.
After planting one last maddening, open-mouthed kiss against my neck, he pulls back long enough to shove his jeans off, letting his boxers go with them. He stands there for a moment, all naked and draped in shadow like a stormy-eyed god, and I fist one hand into my sheets, trying desperately to hold time still.
I never want to forget how he looks right now, all his clothes and walls stripped away. This is Wolfie. And he’s sharing himself freely with me. It’s the only version of him I want from now on.
He helps me out of my clothes with the quick eagerness of a little kid unwrapping a present on Christmas morning, tossing my sweatshirt and pajama pants off to God knows where. That’s a problem for later. Right now, it’s just him and me. The two of us, a mess of wandering hands and greedy mouths, taking in every bit of each other that we can.
He moves over me again, and I run my palm along his length, feeling him grow against my touch. He sucks in a sharp breath, then releases it on a low, throaty hum. “Fuck. So good.”
“Yeah? This is okay?”
He swallows hard and nods. “More than okay, babe.” His eyes close, his hips lifting to meet my strokes with slow thrusts until he’s fully hard in my fist.
“I want you inside me,” I say, my voice low as I grip his base and guide him right to where I need him most. He’s barely touched me, but I’m already wet and ready.
He groans, replacing my hand with his and tracing maddening circles around my clit with the tip of his cock. It’s enough to drive a girl absolutely wild.
“Please, Wolfie.” I gasp, clutching his shoulders with trembling fingers.
He quiets me with a firm kiss as he shifts his weight, bringing one hand to the needy space between my legs. One finger pushes into me, then another, pumping in and out, deeper and deeper each time, commanding every muscle in my body to clamp down on him. When he curls his fingers against my most sensitive spot, a desperate, breathy moan escapes my lips, my body writhing beneath him as I ride out the wave of an orgasm so intense, it leaves me in a heap.
“So perfect,” he whispers against my neck, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Did you think I wasn’t going to get you off first?”
He quickly retrieves a condom and sheaths himself, then lifts my leg over his hip, pressing into me only an inch. Just enough to feel me quiver around him. No time for me to catch my breath. He’s giving me what I want.
“I love you, Penelope,” he whispers, his eyes unwaveringly trained on mine.
“I love you too, Wolfie.”
And then he sinks into me, every inch of him, claiming what’s his. Tonight, tomorrow, forever.
My breath stills for a moment, then pours out of me in a low moan of pleasure. Holy shit, he feels incredible.
My back bows as I chase his thrusts with my own, and he drives deeper and deeper, bringing me more and more bliss. I can feel myself getting close again, inching toward my edge, and by the way his jaw clenches, I know I’m not the only one.
“Gonna come soon,” he warns on a low growl.
“Mm-hmm. Me too, baby.”
The words have hardly left my lips when the heat takes over, pulsing through me in white-hot waves. I’m still riding my high when I feel him release, giving a few final thrusts into me before collapsing in a heap at my side, our desperate lungs competing to suck the oxygen out of the room.
“Fuck, Penelope.” Wolfie pants out the words, pressing the softest, sweetest kiss against my temple. “You’re perfect, you know that?”
But I don’t respond. I’m too busy curling into him, resting my head on his chest, listening to the whooshing thump of his heartbeat. And soon I’m slipping into an easy, blissful sleep.
In the morning, I squint awake to the sun reflecting off a layer of freshly fallen snow and directly into my eyes.
I pull my covers over my head, temporarily confused as to why this is a problem for the first time ever. The sun never wakes me in the morning. I sleep on the side of the bed farthest from the window for that very reason.
And then it all starts coming back to me.
Why am I on this side of the bed? Because last night, I sacrificed my usual side of the mattress for a man who I’m pretty sure I can now officially refer to as my boyfriend. Waking up with the sun is a very small price to pay for an evening of multiple earth-shattering orgasms and all-night spooning.
Worth it? Duh.
I shake off my sleepy haze with a yawn, silently praying that my bedmate is already awake too. I wouldn’t mind a few sleepy kisses that might lead to something more. Sort of a redo of our morning at the lake house, minus the part where my brother barged in.
But then I roll over, and instead of finding a sleepy Wolfie next to me, there’s only the rumpled, empty sheets still barely holding his warmth.
My heart squeezes like a stress ball in my chest, a combination of confusion and heartache falling over me like a heavy fog. He left? Even after he promised that he wouldn’t run away again?
I groan as I turn onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow to hide from this horrible reality.
Stupid, Penelope. Did I really think he meant it this time?
Before I can fall too deep into my pity party, a whiff of something bitter hits my nose, even through the buffer of my pillow.
Is that . . . coffee? It can’t be.
I perk up a bit, giving the air another sniff.
Yep. That is definitely coffee.
A second later, the crackle of bacon popping in a pan echoes down the hall. Relief courses through my veins, and I heave out a full-body sigh.
Thank God. Not only is Wolfie still here, but he’s put himself to work in the kitchen. I guess miracles do happen sometimes.
Slipping out from beneath the sheets, I find last night’s clothes, which we so sloppily discarded on my bedroom floor in the heat of the moment. Both my sweatshirt and my pajama pants have to be flipped right side out again, and after a minute or two of searching beneath the bed, I officially have no clue what happened to my slipper socks. I pull a fresh pair from my dresser, sliding them onto my feet before padding out to the kitchen.
There, I’m greeted by a shirtless Wolfie, his muscular back turned to me as he adjusts the burners on the stove like a well-practiced DJ. Except instead of cooking up club beats, he’s making bacon and eggs. Which, in my opinion, is a zillion times better.
“Good morning,” I murmur sleepily, wrapping my arms around his trim waist and resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. Even when we’re standing up, this man makes the best human pillow ever.
“Mmm, morning, cutie.” His back muscles flex as he slides a perfectly fried egg onto a plate and then turns to give me a hug. “Sorry for raiding your fridge.”
“No apologies necessary, as long as you’re sharing.”
His laugh rumbles through him, low and gritty. I can feel it buzzing against my cheek. “Of course. I’ll be done cooking in a minute, if you want to pour yourself some coffee.” He tips his head toward the coffeepot, where there are already two mugs waiting for us on the counter.
My heart squeezes again, but this time, it’s from pure bliss.
Homemade breakfast, a fresh pot of coffee, and I get to put my feet up? I could definitely get used to this.
I pull my favorite French vanilla creamer from the refrigerator door, then settle in at the table to enjoy the view of this gorgeous man cooking for me.
“Is this all part of your grand plan to get me to move in with you?” I tease.
He glances over his shoulder, one thick brown brow arching in playful curiosity. “Why, is it working?”
I nod, holding up one finger for him to wait as I take my first sip of coffee. “But I meant what I said about finishing up my lease first.”
“And I meant what I said about giving you whatever you need.”
A coy smile pulls at my lips as I eye the crispy strips of bacon sizzling in the pan. “I think what I need right now is some of that bacon. Like, as soon as possible.”
Wolfie laughs, a deep throaty sound that makes me smile. Then he grabs the tongs and piles a hefty stack of bacon onto each plate, along with eggs for each of us.
“A girl who knows what she wants,” he says, setting a full plate in front of me. “That’s exactly what is going to get you that promotion at work.”
With that, my smile disappears, and my appetite goes with it. I guess we’re having this conversation now. “Um, actually, I have to tell you something.”
He sets down his plate and leans against the counter, giving me his full attention. “Yes?”
“I, uh . . . I got fired, actually,” I mutter, my cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. “Spencer got the promotion—surprise, surprise—and I ended up on the chopping block.”
It takes a good long moment and a few cleansing breaths before I have the guts to look up from my plate and gauge Wolfie’s reaction. His frown is dark, both sympathy and frustration etched on his handsome face.
With a grunt, he folds his arms over his bare chest and shakes his head. “What a load of bullshit. That dude is a lazy prick.”
“Tell me about it.” I sigh, reaching for the creamer and adding another generous splash to my coffee. Anything to sweeten the bitterness of the situation.
“Well, you’ll find something better,” he says, his voice level and certain. “There’s got to be a thousand jobs in this city for someone as smart as you.”
Wolfie sounds so sure, so convinced about this, for a second I actually believe him. But then I remember the fruitless hours I spent scrolling through job search sites last night before he arrived, and my confidence drains again.
I lift a shoulder, drawing lazy circles in my coffee with my spoon and watching as it turns from light brown to a creamy tan. “I know I’ll find something eventually, but right now, I just feel so disposable.”
“You’re not disposable,” he growls. “Not even close. You deserve a job where your talent is recognized. I can take a look at your résumé, if it would help.”
“Or you could just find a job for me?” I offer him a weak smile. “Can that be part of the whole winning me back thing too?”
Wolfie shakes his head. “No way, babe. You don’t need me for that. This is your career. You can do this on your own. And I know you will.”
His confidence in me is inspiring.
I sigh, then bite into an extra-crispy piece of bacon to keep myself from arguing about this. I know he’s right, even if I don’t want him to be.
Just like I can’t solve all his problems, he can’t solve all of mine. But we can be there for each other. I guess that’s the silver lining in all of this. I won’t have to go through it alone.
