2B or Not 2B (Roomies Series) (3 page)

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DAY 2

It was weird to wake up and have breakfast at a new place. I didn't have any idea where the mugs were, where the sugar was
… and don't let me get started on the coffee. Also, opening my eyes in a strange bedroom made me slightly panicked for a couple of seconds.

S
itting on the comfy couch, the black leather creaking under my ― too vast ― ass, I took a sip of my burning coffee. I whimpered and rolled my eyes at my idiocy. I closed my eyes and groaned as I realized how awful the night before was.

I tossed
and turned half of the night in my bed. The pillows felt all wrong under my head compared to the large ones back at my parents'. The cover was too hot for the weather, and I had to strip from my black tank top and shorts to sleep. It was not often that I slept in the nude, and having a guy next door got me a little flustered when I wondered about how he slept. Naked? Boxers? Briefs? Boxer briefs? Shirt? No shirt? Maybe Macon was right. I needed to get laid.

Bare feet paddling
across the floor came to my ears. I opened my eyes, took a look at Byron and lost my breath. He definitely slept without a shirt on. His strong arms with well-defined muscles looked more impressive without anything to cover them. They were the kind of arms you wanted to crawl into and never leave. They were the kind of arms that could make you feel secure. And his torso had impressive pecs—ones that could only be formed if a guy worked out hard. On the left side of his pec, there was a peculiar round scar. His abs didn't deceive either.
Not. At. All.
I could count the six-pack of his muscles. Four perfectly visible and two outlined by the lights above casting shadows on his bronze colored skin. And—just to kill me a little more—from his navel to down under his tan cargo shorts, a happy trail of hair completed the otherworldly morning apparition.

But one thing caught my attention that had nothing to do with his half-nakedness. He had
dog tags around his thick neck. It was weird because if he were a soldier, he wouldn't be here in this apartment, ready to start college on Monday.

He finally realized he wasn't alone. He sighed and shook his head. "So
, it wasn't a weird dream."

I wrinkled up my nose and glared. "Too bad,
huh?"

He took a sip of his coffee
—black and without sugar—before he walked to the couch and sat next to me. He wasn't close enough for me to feel his skin against mine, but I could feel the heat radiating from him. I cleared my throat.

"I guess I should be polite." I ran a hand in my hair, now thinking it
would have been a good idea to take a look at myself before I saw him. My hair, being short, tended to be all over the place in the morning. "Good morning, Lord."

He groaned and cast me
a glare I ignored. "Stop this shit, Bridge."

I put down my empty mug on the coffee table, frowning. "Bridge?"

"The London Bridge? Does it ring a bell?"

I pursed my lips and punched him in his round and huge shoulder. A weird shiver ran up my arm and down my spine.
Just because I hit him?
It would truly suck if I started acting like a prude. "It's not funny."

He shrugged and took another sip of his beverage, taking his damn time. He probably loved to mess with me before nine in the morning. "Because being called Lord is better?"

"At least you can tell your buddies it's from your loud prowess in the bedroom department. I'm sure they'll love that one."

"They're not dumb. They'll know it's from Lord Byron."

I snickered and was amused to see the frown deepening on his unshaved face. His light blue eyes looked a shade darker today. Or maybe it was because he was seconds away from snapping at me. "I'll stop if you stop."

He brought a hand to my bare shoulder and sprayed his strong looking fingers with bitten nails on my hot skin. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down twice before his eyes locked on my brown ones. He
was closer than he should be. He was closer than I was comfortable with. But I didn't move away. Nor did I lean into him even if a wild, deeply hidden, part of me would have loved to.

"Oh no, Bridge. You wanted in for two months
, so suck it up."

He withdrew his hand and turned on the
news.

"Fine."

"Fine," he replied, his eyes focused on the flat screen where we could see some soldiers ready to leave Afghanistan to return home.

The look on his face was odd. It was
a mixture between longing and hatred. His hands were closed in tight fists, and his shoulders weren't as relaxed as they had been seconds ago. He didn't look like the laid back guy I thought was my roommate.

Then, my eyes wandered back to the chain dangling from his thick neck. Dog
tags. He didn't know me, and I had done nothing to become his friend so far … but I needed to ask because I was
that
curious.

"Are you a soldier?"

Startled, he turned his buzzed head to me, his scar in full display. Maybe the pieces weren't that mysterious. "I was," he answered in a clipped voice. "How do you know?"

"The dog
tags." I pointed to the little pieces of metal.

He brought a hand around them. His knuckles turned white and his eyes flared. "First ground rule, Bridge." He released the tags and leaned closer to my face, his hot breath fanning
the sensitive skin around my lips. I pursed them, holding back from licking them like an idiot waiting to be kissed when it was perfectly obvious he was not about to kiss me. And I shouldn't want to. He's not my kind of guy. Not my type at all. "Never talk about my past as a soldier."

I cocked my head on one side, challenging him. "I'm not one to follow the rules."

He came a breath closer; his nose almost brushing against mine. I could see the silver dots in his eyes, making the blue in them lighter and more stunning than ever. "If you want to make it here, you'll follow them."

"And how many are there?"

He pulled back, a small smile tugging at the right corner of his plump lips. "Depends on you, Bridge."

"Yes, my Lord." I grinned, trying to diffuse the tension. It
was killing me to not be allowed to ask him about being a soldier or about why he was here instead of at a base or in Afghanistan or wherever the hell they sent soldiers to. But first, I needed this place. Once we knew each other more, things might be different. Right now, I could tell he was about to explode just because I asked this one tiny question. "Is that better?"

"Yeah, right," he said, rolling his eyes before turning up the volume of the TV.

Chapter Three

DAY 3

The party was nothing special. It wasn't too wild, and people were just enjoying the loud music and the flowing alcohol. It was a perfectly normal party, almost tame compared to some I went to in high school.

I drank a second shot of tequila and smiled at Macon who was making a come-hit
her look at a poor girl ogling him. If only she knew how he liked to play hot and cold with women. He laughed and then looked back at me, bumping his shoulder against mine.

"So,
baby, ready to move your ass with me?" he asked me, tilting his head toward the packed living room where couples were dancing and groping each other.

I looked down at myself. My boyfriend
-cut black jeans, black converse and tight black tank top were nothing compared to the scantily clad girls in the apartment. Yet, being the only overweight girl among tons of thin, leggy girls wasn't in my favor.

"I'm not feeling like flaunting my fat."

He lost his smile immediately. He hated it when I talked like that about my body. He loved me like I was, and most of the time I loved me, too. But since what happened with the last guy I had been with, things had changed a little.

"Baby, now you better follow me
, or it won't be pretty."

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. He put his empty beer bottle on the counter in the kitchen and grabbed my hand in a tight grip. He wasn't
kidding. I giggled and let him lead the way between the moving bodies. He stopped in the middle of the room and started to grind into me, his hips moving expertly with the loud heavy beat of a song I didn't even know. I shook my head, but followed his lead.

It was our thing. We
had danced together since we were kids, but since high school, we liked to pretend to be into each other like the other couples. Oddly, it usually helped both of us to end the night with someone else.

I turned and kept my back to his torso. Slowly, almost too slowly for the rhythm, I leveled myself down, my hands gliding against his body from his neck to his crotch. He chuckled in my ear and tightened his grip on my hips
, a little too tight, pushing my ass against his hips. I put my head on his chest and moved my hands up and down his firm body, amused by the looks we were attracting. We were good at this.

Just before the song ended, Byron walked pas me, leading a leggy brunette to his room, but just before he reached his door, his eyes focused on me, weighing on my heated skin. I was too far
away to see his eyes, but I could feel their burn. And I couldn't look away.

He snaked an arm around the tiny waist of his new one-night stand and kissed her neck just before he opened his bedroom door. She giggled and sashayed in. He smirked at me and my blood ran cold in my veins. I looked away and gritted my teeth.

Suddenly, the song ended. I turned around, laughing mischievously with Macon, and tried to forget everything about my roommate. My best friend's eyes were happy. He hugged me and put his lips against my left ear. "Byron just left with a brunette, but he didn't look happy to see how you were dancing with me."

I shook my head and released him from my tight embrace. "Like he cared. He knows you're gay
, and he was perfectly clear that he finds me annoying. I didn't see him all day after breakfast." I wanted to add that he hadn’t wasted any time finding someone to play naughty-sweaty-sexy with either, but it was better to keep my comment to myself.

Macon brushed away my bang
s that were sticking to my sweaty forehead. "I think I just found my guy for tonight," he said, changing the subject. Macon, the whore, was unstoppable. I pushed him toward the improvised bar where a cute looking guy was waiting. I was not into red-haired guys, but this one knew how to wear the color. I could guess how the night was about to end for these two.

"Hey."

I turned to the right where a tall guy was smiling at me. He had the perfect surfer look going for him. Shoulder length fair hair, blue dreamy eyes, light scruff, cargo tan shorts, white tank top, and biceps almost too big for his overall lean built.

"Hey." I smiled back, amused to know this trick
still worked for me to attract someone.

"So you're B's roomy?"

He was one of Lord's friends, then. Interesting. I let my eyes wander on his tall body, drinking him in. He wasn't a preppy looking guy, the kind I loved, but to just to mess around, I avoided that kind of guy at any cost. Preppy looking guys were only if, by some miracle, I wanted to have a relationship, which I didn't want.
At. All.

"And you are flirting with me?"

His smile broadened at my bluntness. He brushed away his long locks of hair, and I could smell that he had been swimming before coming to the party. Chlorine smell emanated from his skin, it was enticing compared to the awful smell of smoke and alcohol spilled everywhere around the apartment. I glanced around and saw that some people were already starting to leave, scrambling through the door and bumping into the walls. It was late, after all, and most of these people must be getting ready for the new college year starting … tomorrow, since it was already way past two in the morning. A drunk guy stumbled into me, and his sweat coated my arm. I made a face and glared at the idiot, but he was already through the door. Lucky bastard. I looked back at "my" guy who was still smiling at me.

"Definitely."

I kept my eyes locked with his baby blues and gave him my most mischievous smile. "Good thing I'm not against the idea of finishing the night in my bedroom." I ignored the squeeze in my chest, the very thing that told me that I was doing what I told myself I wouldn't do anymore. That wasn't who I truly was, and yet … I needed to work off this edge. Seeing Byron lead that girl into his room got to me in a way I couldn't even explain.

A slight pink hue appeared on the guy’s cheeks
, and I applauded myself. This game was easy for me, flirting and leading a guy to mess around with me for some time. All of this was the easiest thing. No complication, no expectations. Just fun.

"Lead the way, London."

"Then give me your name."

He closed the little space between us and lowered his head to my ear. His breath smel
led of beer, but it was his breath brushing my bare, slightly sweaty skin that gave me a little shiver.

"Jordan."

I grabbed his hand and walked to my bedroom, pushing my way between some people still lingering around. Macon winked at me and gave me a thumbs-up when we walked past him, as he was still chatting up the guy he left me for. I winked back and opened my bedroom; fortunately, it was void of any horny couples.

I walked in and released his hand before closing the door.
He looked around my bare bedroom and then at the bed before his blue eyes landed back on me with a secretive smile. Without any hesitation, I closed the distance between us, pushed him on the bed and crawled next to him, my body flush against him. Focusing my eyes a second longer on his slightly-parted, thin lips, I kissed him.

I closed my eyes tight
er, willing myself to ignore the sounds coming from the other bedroom, but it was difficult. The girl's moans were a little too loud for me. I had to up my game. I had to feel something for the guy I was kissing. I had to not think about what Byron was doing to that girl because the sounds she was making were damn distracting.

I took Jordan's lower lip between mine, sucking on it lightly before seeking entrance with my demanding tongue. He brushed his tongue against mine, slowly, too slowly for my taste or my mood. I bit on his lower lip and let my hands wander on his firm chest, less musc
ular than I thought; definitely less than Byron's chest. And now I was thinking of my roommate while I was kissing another guy. But I kept kissing Jordan, pushing away everything else, forcing my mind to turn off.

While we
kissed, I began to feel his erection pressing hard against his cargo shorts, making him groan low in his throat, and I heard the last people leaving the apartment and the music stopped. We were alone. Byron probably chased away his brunette of the night once he was finished with her and forced the others to leave. I tugged at Jordan's zipper, and he broke the kiss, a question in his eyes. His labored breathing was fanning my face, making me proud to know I was able to make him so blinded by desire.

"Are you loud when you come?" I asked with a mischievous smile as I
opened his pants and tugged down his boxer briefs, freeing his hard length.

His breath caught in his throat, a hiss pass
ed through his gritted teeth. "Uh … it depends."

I palmed him and began to move both hands up and down. He moan
ed, but not loud enough for my liking. "Well then, let me help you come louder than you ever have."

And I brought my mouth to his cock. He groaned loudly.
Very loudly.
Game on.

* * *

DAY 3

I hated the taste in my mouth. It was like I
had swallowed a ball of cotton, damp with some nasty mix of alcohol. But I wasn't hungover; I didn't drink that much last night. I yawned and left the comfort of my bed. I brushed away some of my blonde hair hanging in my face, and I tugged down my black tank top to cover my stomach, which was not as flat as other girls’ that flaunted theirs everywhere on campus.

Not ready to walk around the apartment in tiny shorts, I put on large pajama bottom
s, equally black to cover my too-thick legs that are not exactly toned. I scrambled out of my room, and the scent of coffee greeted me even before I paddled into the kitchen.

"Already up?"

Byron was eating a doughnut at the kitchen counter, his mug of coffee calling my name. My eyes zeroed in on it,–I would be drooling over his chest if he wasn't wearing a shirt―and I sighed.

"It's way past ten. It was time," I mumbled, mistaking the cupboard of glasses for the one with the plates and mugs. I cursed soundlessly and poured myself some coffee.
Adding more sugar than usual, my feet walked to the little table, and my body fell gracelessly on the chair. I wasn't exactly a morning person most of the time.

He joined me at the table and extended a doughnut to me, chuckling at my pout.

"Are you a morning person?’’ I asked him just before I took a bite of the appetizing doughnut.

"I'm used to wak
ing up early to go for a run, but I have been slacking these last three days."

"Run?" I shook my head and glared at him when he laughed.

A silence fell between us, punctuated by me almost spilling my coffee on the table after I choked. He crossed his strong arms over his muscled chest.

"It looks like you ended the night well, Bridge."

I swallowed my coffee and smirked. "Just like you did, Lord."

He leaned over the table, closer to my hunched over form. His light
blue eyes were serious. "At least I made her come."

I straightened my back and shrugged. "Believe me, I made him come
, too. The bastard was actually loud." I kept my promise to make him come louder than he was used to. Feeling proud of such a thing might seem weird, but I was and I didn't care about what other people might think of me.

He pursed his lips and sneered, his eyes blazing on my face. He ran a hand in his scruff
, which was darker than last night. "I heard. I heard a little too much, actually."

I put down the last piece of my doughnut and frowned. I leaned closer to him over the table, mirroring him. "Don't tell me the second ground rule is that I can't have things getting loud in my bedroom, but you can."

He shook his head and the blue in his eyes darkened immediately. It was mesmerizing. "No, but next time, chose a guy who can make you come because you were awfully quiet."

I recoiled in my chair. "Gross, Lord!" But the ache low in my stomach and between my legs told something else entirely. Despite my better judgement, I was thrilled
―and turned on―that my roomy didn't like what happened with Jordan. And the weirdest part was that I had no idea why. "Don't tell me you can’t listen to others having some fun."

He straightened like I punched him, his face pale. "What?! You're crazy."

I stood up, but he startled me by standing up too, not ready to give me any kind of leverage. He wasn't that tall for a guy, but he towered over me nonetheless. His steely eyes weren't leaving my brown ones. I walked to him, invading his space. His shoulders tensed. My eyes darted briefly from his eyes to focus a second on his lips that were a little too inviting. At that moment I gazed at his thin scar, which was partially hidden by his thick scruff, but was more visible in the morning light falling on his temple.

"And just so you know, you didn't hear me because I fucked him with my mouth," I said just above a whisper.

"Fuck," he managed to mutter after his Adam's apple jumped a couple of times. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing louder than a second ago. I was playing dangerously.

"Exactly."

I turned around and walked back toward my bedroom.