My brothers roommate, p.6
My Brother's Roommate, page 6
“Right. Not a boyfriend, anyway. Nothing with labels. Just someone I care enough about to be intimate with.” I glance back at him, and something close to hope flutters in my belly.
“And you wanted that someone to be me?”
Cautiously, I nod. “I’m attracted to you.”
He inhales slowly, his wide chest rising.
“Do you think that someone could be you?”
The slightest smile passes over his lips, but it quickly fades, a tense frown taking its place. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be. We can take it slow.”
Silence again. God, what I wouldn’t give to spend just one minute inside this man’s head.
I trail my fingertips lightly along his forearm, watching as the hairs stand on end in the wake of my touch. “Maybe we could experiment. If I do anything you don’t like, just tell me and I’ll stop. Does that interest you?”
“Yes,” he whispers, his voice strained with need. “Might be good. Just for tonight.”
“Right. Just for tonight.”
He doesn’t say another word, but the look in his eyes is hungry. Lustful. Ready.
And I know we’re not going to get anywhere unless I take a chance.
7
* * *
WOLFIE
I can’t believe I just did that.
Never in my twenty-nine years have I been so candid with someone about my baggage. But Penelope insisted she wanted to know it all, so that’s what I gave her.
My anxieties, my hang-ups with sex . . . hell, I even fessed up that I don’t get off from a blow job.
It should have been enough for her to go running scared straight into the snowstorm without looking back. But somehow, she’s still here, cozied up with me in our nest of blankets and bourbon, looking at me with a meaningful gaze.
I guess miracles really can happen.
My breath stills as she slowly trails one pink-painted fingernail down my chest and over my abs. She pauses at the buckle of my belt, allowing me all the time I need to stop her.
But I don’t.
Maybe it’s just the bourbon that has me feeling loose, but the thought of being with Penelope doesn’t scare me the way it has in the past with anyone else. She’s as hot as she is soothing, like a mug of tea during the worst winter storm.
My heart is hammering, fast and embarrassingly loudly now, but Penelope doesn’t seem to notice. Her hand moves lower, and then she pauses again.
The fire crackles and pops, its light reflecting in her wild blue eyes as she blinks up at me, gauging my interest. Man, those eyes. I’ll bet they get her whatever she wants.
And tonight, what she wants is me.
I would never have guessed that Penelope was so open about sex. Then again, maybe it does make sense. When poverty knocks on the door, love flies out the window. My grandma used to say that all the time. And Connor and Penelope were raised with nothing, barely a roof over their heads at times.
I guess it makes sense that she’s not looking for love right now. She’s determined to make something of herself and overcome her upbringing. But . . . she still has physical needs. Hell, we all do. Even if I don’t want to admit it.
Shifting closer, she places one manicured hand over the growing bulge in my jeans, bringing me back to the moment. “Is this okay?”
Those plush lips of hers part in a way that makes me want to pull her into me and kiss her till she’s breathless. But I’m not going to do that. Not yet. I’m going to try this her way first.
I take a breath. Man up, Cox. You’ve got this.
“Yeah,” I say, choking out the word.
The touch of her hand is electric, and a mix of nerves and pleasure washes over me.
As she ducks her head to tug the leather strap of my belt free, I’m flooded with the fresh, floral scent of her shampoo. It’s soft and subtle, just like her touch. My heart thuds as her hand ventures down the front of my zipper, stroking me through the denim.
“Still okay?” she asks.
I nod, swallowing the groan that’s building. “Okay” doesn’t even begin to cover it, sweetheart.
“How about this?”
Penelope’s fingers float to the button of my jeans, popping it loose with a quick tug. My last defense against her touch, gone.
Caution forms a knot in the base of my throat, my usual reaction when faced with any sexual situation. But unlike every time before, I’m able to gulp it down.
“Go ahead,” I tell her on a strained whisper. Not that she needs much convincing.
Slowly, her hand eases behind my zipper, exploring, rubbing the hard length of me over the soft material of my cotton boxers. My body responds, stiffening against her palm, and the tiniest gasp falls from her lips.
It’s so fucking cute. I can’t help but kiss the coy little smile off her mouth, sucking slowly on her bottom lip as needy whimpers pour from her mouth into mine. She tastes like bourbon and bad decisions, and I’ve developed a taste for both.
As our tongues intertwine, her hand inches closer and closer to the waistband of my boxers, finally slipping beneath. Fuck. Her touch is electric. One brush of her fingers against me, and every muscle in my body contracts.
Then Penelope runs her palm up and down my length, and my eyes can’t help but sink closed in bliss. A rough groan pours from my lips. Her strokes are gentle. Appreciative, even. Like she wants to know every inch of me. But then she forms a fist around me, moving in slow, careful pumps.
Fuck. Too much. I suck in a sharp breath and, as if by instinct, pull her hand away.
“What is it?” Her pretty blue eyes are brimming with panic. “Did I hurt you?”
I bring her hand to my mouth, brushing my lips against the same palm that stroked me seconds before. “No, it’s just . . . you don’t have to do that.”
“Did you not like it?”
There’s hurt in her voice, and suddenly, I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet.
Way to go, Cox. A girl touches your dick, and you have to go and hurt her feelings.
“It’s not that. I liked it.” I squeeze her hand tight in mine. “Don’t worry. It felt nice.”
She nods, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip. “Well, is there something you like better?”
God, this girl. She’s so perceptive, so quick to talk this through with me. I’ve never been with anyone like her before.
Usually I’m half-drunk to even get here, to give in to the moment and have a quick fuck. This is nothing like that. But then again, Penelope is unlike any other girl I’ve been with—not that there have been many. Fewer than a handful.
As she waits for my reply, my thumb traces lazy circles on her palm as I weigh my words. I guess there is something I’d like to do. But I don’t know if she’d be up for it.
“Are you warm enough?”
Curious, she lifts a brow. “Yes. Why?”
“Then take your shirt off. I want to see you.”
Unlike me, Penelope has no problem getting naked. She doesn’t hesitate, peeling away her crimson sweater to reveal a plain black bra and soft, gorgeous curves. She’s stunning.
“That too.” I tip my chin toward her bra, letting my gaze linger on the gentle swell of her breasts peeking out from the cups.
Once again, she complies, reaching around the back and undoing the clasp in one swift motion.
Suddenly, I’m staring at a half-naked Penelope, and for the uninitiated, there’s not a better sight in the entire world. All that soft, creamy skin and those small, perky tits. I’m dying to get a handful, but she beats me to it, cupping her breasts and teasing herself with her thumbs until her nipples stand at attention for me.
“That’s sexy,” I say, my voice straining with need.
She smiles, then asks a question I’m totally not prepared for. “Will you show me how you touch yourself?”
For a second, I think it’s a joke. But then her eyes lock with mine, her mouth curling into a subtle but devious smile. Is she challenging me?
Fuck it. Let’s do this.
I dip my hand into my boxers, freeing my cock so she can see how hard I am for her. To my own surprise, my hand instantly finds its favorite spot, wrapped tight around my base. My grip is rough as it moves along my shaft in quick, efficient strokes.
She watches me closely, mirroring my speed with her fingers as they pinch and caress her sensitive nipples, causing soft moans to pour from her lips. Music to my fucking ears. When she stops, it’s only to pull me against her, sweeping her tongue over mine in quick, expert strokes while my hand keeps pumping, steady and insistent.
“I want my mouth on you,” she murmurs, kissing a path down my neck.
Just the words make my erection strain for her, but I know better than to let her try. I’d feel awful having her on her knees for me. She’d be there for over an hour, her poor jaw aching. I’m not selfish enough to let that happen.
“You don’t have to do that, gorgeous.”
But then she bats her eyes at me, like she’s the one asking me for a favor. “Please?”
Fuck. Who am I to tell her no?
I lean back into the pillows, my eyes transfixed on Penelope as she guides herself down, treating the broad tip of my cock to a light, warm kiss. A shiver rolls through me. It’s been so long since I’ve let anyone do this for me. It’s never worked. But there’s no one I’d rather try with.
Gently, she takes me into her mouth. Just the tip at first, then a few more inches at a time until her lips are wrapped tight around my base.
A shaky exhale slips from my lips. Holy hell, this girl is no slouch at this.
My thigh muscles tighten as she bobs her head, slowly at first, then matches the intensity of how I stroked myself. But this is better than anything my hand could ever dream of doing. This is fucking paradise.
“God, yes, Penelope.”
Not baby. Not sweetheart. Penelope. Like I want her to know that I know she’s the one doing this for me.
My fingers tangle in her hair, guiding her mouth against me again and again. I’m not one for casual sex, but nothing about this seems casual. It’s honest. Raw.
Her lips glide up and down my shaft in a perfect, steady rhythm, and before long, the familiar strain in my groin tells me I’m close.
“Fuck.” I groan, feeling her answering smile as I grunt out, “Gonna blow.”
I lift my hips, thrusting into her mouth as she tightens her lips against me, sucking and licking until I release into her. She swallows me down until I’m dizzy with something damn close to euphoria.
Holy fuck. No one has ever done that before.
When she resurfaces, Penelope pulls her lips into a proud smile. “Can’t get off from oral sex, huh?”
I chuckle and pull her close until she’s resting her head on my shoulder. She’s so adorable, all cozy and curled up against me. Meanwhile, my heart is trying to beat out of my chest, its version of thunderous applause for the performance she just gave.
“Never have before. I guess you’re just really good at that.” I sweep her honey-blond hair behind her ear, meeting her gaze. “Let me return the favor?”
I hate to move her from this spot, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get a taste of her after what she just did for me.
Her lips form a playful grin. “How can I say no to that?”
I help her out of her jeans, and without even being asked, she ditches the lacy black thong she has on underneath too. This woman has no shame about her body, nor should she. She’s fucking perfect. All smooth, creamy skin and thick, delicious thighs.
I ease myself down to the space between them, running my tongue through her heat. It earns me a gasp.
She’s reactive. I like that.
“So gorgeous,” I murmur against her thigh before parting her again.
She shivers and twitches with every stroke of my tongue, her throaty moans mixing with the crackling of the fire in the sweetest, sexiest symphony I’ve ever heard. It only gets better when she says my name.
“Fuck, Wolfie. So good.”
My lips stay locked on her sweet, swollen clit as I sink one finger into her, then add another, until she’s pulsing and panting toward her climax.
“Oh, Wolfie.” Her whines are desperate. “I’m so close.”
I hum against her in approval, and it does her in, her whole body tensing around my fingers and releasing in one slow, shaky sigh of pleasure.
“You’re unbelievable,” she mumbles once she finally catches her breath.
I join her with my head on the pillows again, watching her sleepy eyes flutter closed as she shifts back to her spot from before, her head tucked into the crook of my shoulder. I think I’m officially her human pillow.
“Sleepy,” she grumbles.
As she slips off to dreamland, I stare at the fire, watching the last of the embers fade to black as it dies out. The high I was riding follows suit, fading into a twinge of guilt in the pit of my stomach.
This isn’t just any gorgeous woman asleep in my arms. This is my roommate’s sister. And he would kill me if he knew.
Penelope’s words from earlier echo in my head. We could be good for each other, just for tonight. Meaning this can’t carry over into tomorrow. And I’ll make damn sure of that.
I’m wise enough to know lightning doesn’t strike twice. And I’ll never be good enough for a girl like Penelope.
8
* * *
PENELOPE
I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that wakes me up so early.
Maybe it’s the soft light of daybreak bleeding through the windows, or the chill lingering in the air. Other potential culprits include the soft snores coming from the sleeping man beside me. Regardless, it can’t be much later than six a.m. when I blink out of my sleep and into the cold, white morning.
From the looks of it, the snow has stopped, although by the size of the drifts, I’m guessing it kept up late into the night. The sun is just above the horizon, scattering its rays over the bright white mounds of snow. It’s like a painting out there, a serene aftermath to last night’s storm.
But it doesn’t matter how pretty it is. It’s also freaking freezing. As my chill turn to full-on shivers, I cuddle closer to Wolfie in a desperate search for warmth.
He stirs, letting out a grumble as he turns toward me, gathering me up in his arms. “You cold?”
I nod, pulling the scratchy wool blanket up to my chin.
His body heat kept me warm most of the night, but without the fire, the house has gotten truly cold. It probably doesn’t help that my clothes are piled in a heap on the floor, and I certainly didn’t pack pajamas.
Regrets? I have none.
Wolfie shoves back the blankets and tugs on his boxers before trudging over to rebuild the fire. I watch him closely, admiring the way the morning light coats him in a warm, angelic glow.
Wolfie is no angel. He’s made that perfectly clear. But whatever demons from his past turned him into the rough, broken man he is today, he didn’t let them stop him last night.
I feel strangely proud. And now, watching the muscles of his back flex and contract as he rebuilds our fire, I’m praying he can keep those demons at bay long enough for him to open up again, or maybe long enough to let me touch him again.
It’s a dangerous thought. Especially with how masculine and delicious he looks wearing only boxers, building me a fire just because I said I was cold.
Once the fire is steadily burning, he returns to our nest of blankets, folding me back into his arms, his front to my back. His body is sturdy beneath me, but there’s a softness about him that I can’t quite describe. This man is full of beautiful contradictions.
“You sleep okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“Like a baby. What about you?”
He pulls me tighter to him until I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating between my shoulder blades. “Better than I have in months. Thanks for that.”
“I’m sure the bourbon may have helped too.”
A low chuckle vibrates through him. “Nah. I think it was mostly you.”
“Whatever you say,” I murmur, trying to play it cool. In reality, my chest is swelling with pride. I like knowing that I may have contributed to his anxiety subsiding for the night. Anything I can do to quiet that unease of his.
Shifting in his arms, I turn to meet Wolfie’s sleepy gaze, admiring how the firelight dances in his gray eyes. The flames bring out little specks of green that I’ve never noticed before. I guess there’s plenty about Wolfie that I’ve yet to discover, and I want to know it all. Starting with memorizing the way he kisses.
I close what’s left of the distance between us, and he captures my lips with his, our tongues touching in an easy, sleepy rhythm.
I’m relieved to find that what happened between us last night wasn’t just a dream. Every touch is curious and each caress is gentle. This man is such a contradiction, my head spins with each new side of him that’s revealed. As we kiss, his hand slips from my waist, tracing the curve of my hip with the pads of his fingers until he’s gently cupping the warmth between my thighs.
Well, good morning to you too.
I hum my approval, rocking myself desperately against his palm, but he keeps the heel of his hand pressed firm against me, his fingers barely brushing against the tender flesh between my legs. He teases me with soft, lazy strokes, my body tensing and flinching against each one.
Fuck. He’s going to take his time with me.
A shudder rolls through me as he drags one finger through my wetness, then begins tracing maddeningly slow circles against my most sensitive spot.
I let out a desperate moan. Going slow with him is one thing, but with me? That’s much, much harder. This man is going to test my patience to its limits. My hips twitch beneath his touch, but he keeps his infuriating pace until I can’t hold back anymore.
“Wolfie, please.” His name pours from my lips on a low, breathy sigh.
