The Rival Roomies (The Rooftop Crew Book 3)

by Piper Rayne

  “He mostly grumbles and grunts. But they went in the storage room to hash it out when this group of girls came in last night. They came for Jax, but as you know, he’s booked.”

  Dylan nods.

  “He told them they could stay and observe if they wanted. Frankie lost it because she had a client booked and there was nowhere for them to sit while they waited.”

  As Lyle tells the story, he’s so dramatic. Like they’re his parents having fights all over again.

  Dylan raises his hand. “Okay, I’ll head over and see if I can’t get this straightened out.”

  Lyle looks him over. “After you shower, right? Because they’ll probably just team up on you if you come in looking like that. How much food has fallen into that shag carpet on your chin?”

  Dylan peers down at the track pants and T-shirt I think he’s been sleeping and living in, then he looks at me.

  “And I didn’t even have to make the chocolate cake.” I smile sweetly.

  He grumbles and stands, heading to his room. “Give me a half hour.”

  Lyle stands. “You guys are into some kinky shit.” He leaves, shutting the door.

  Dylan walks out of his room. “Well, lucky you. You get to shave me.”

  My stomach catapults like I was shot out of a cannon. “Shave you?” I follow him to the bathroom. “I said I would start a shower for you.”

  “I’m not going to use my right hand because I don’t care for the ‘I just got mugged in an alley’ look.” He peeks over his shoulder. “You’re the only one here, so you’re the lucky lady.”

  “But… I could call Seth or Knox. I’ve never shaved anyone before.”

  “You shave your legs?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “And your pussy?”

  My eyes widen. “That’s none of your business.”

  He holds out the razor. “I’ll walk you through it. Just imagine my face is your pussy. Be gentle as fuck.”

  He grins and pats the bathroom counter, stripping off his T-shirt with his good arm. He’s really getting used to the one arm thing. My eyes zero in on his tattoos. I slide up on the counter, my heart racing a million beats per second. He starts the water and pulls out the shaving cream.

  His hand glides up my inner leg, spreading my thighs. My breath hitches.

  “Come on, make room for me,” he says and laughs.

  “Are you sure?”

  He locks eyes with me, and I swallow the lump in the back of my throat. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known. “You’re the only person I would trust to do this.”

  I slowly take the razor from his hand and nod.

  So we’re doing this then.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dylan

  After Rian uses my trimmers to trim off the excess hair, I debate whether I should have her shave the rest completely off. I could keep the scruff I’ve perfected over the years, but being this close to her feels good. If I have to look like I’m fifteen all over again to prolong this feeling, so be it.

  Rian’s hands are soft as she puddles water in her palms and runs it through my beard. I ignore the droplets falling to my bare chest. Once what’s left of the beard is wet enough, she cups her hand and dishes shaving cream in it, then uses both hands to lather it on my skin.

  “It’s now or never,” she says, her gorgeous blue eyes shining under the lights in the bathroom.

  My hands are on either side of her hips, my body between her open legs. We’re so close, it’s nearly impossible to ignore the pull my lips feel toward hers.

  “Let’s do it. Just go slow and steady,” I say in a gravelly voice.

  I’m a little worried about how this will turn out. But if I’ve figured out anything in the past five days, it’s that I’m not ambidextrous. Rian had to open up the pickle jar for me yesterday. Hold on while I hang up my man card until this cast is off.

  “Tell me about your tattoos,” she says. “I can’t do this in silence.”

  “Which ones?”

  “All, any, whatever.” Her hand shakes as she raises the razor to my face.

  I grip her wrist, my thumb smoothing along the surface. “Relax. Nothing horrible is gonna happen.”

  She nods, but the worry is alive in her eyes, so I do as she requested. I talk about my tattoos.

  “The ones on my legs, I did to myself mostly. When I was practicing.”

  “You did them yourself?” Her eyes are on my sideburns, watching the razor move down my face.

  “Yeah.” I move my jaw as little as possible when I speak so I don’t mess her up. “A few of my friends, like Big Man, trusted me to tattoo them. But to get the feel of the needle to know how deep to go, you have to feel that for yourself.”

  “I’ve never really looked at your legs,” she says, pulling the razor down my skin.

  “Funny, I’ve checked out yours.”

  She glances at me as she washes off the razor. “I don’t have any tattoos.”

  “Your legs, Rian. I’ve checked out your legs.”

  Her flush is the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen on a woman. She believes that she’s not beautiful. If I confessed to her how many guys I told she wasn’t available, she’d be pissed, but truth is, none of them were good enough for her. They would have broken her, and seeing Rian broken? I’d rather gouge out my eyes.

  “Stop the flirting and let me concentrate. Tell me about your arms.”

  I want to glance down to know which specific tattoo she’s asking about. “They all have different meanings. The apple is for Winnie, because she made a killer apple pie in the fall.”

  “Not for a teacher, huh?” She rinses the razor.

  “Nope, although I did have some teachers who had an impact on my life. The phoenix on my back is self-explanatory. I think every foster kid gets one.” I laugh to settle her sympathetic heart from giving me that pitying look. “The wolf is to remind me to be noble and loyal to those who are to me. A lot of the roses, stars, and other things are just filler. Things my friends thought would look killer. But all of them have a memory of some kind. Whether it’s who did it or what it represents.”

  Her gaze skates across my chest. “What does the anchor mean?”

  “Anyone tell you that you have a knack of digging crap out of people?”

  She smiles softly, the razor grazing along my cheek. “I think only you. Maybe you want to tell someone. Have you ever thought of that?”

  I’m not sure if she purposely doesn’t look at me after that comment. She might be right. Maybe I’ve held all this shit in for so long, I want to purge to someone. Maybe it’s a way to prove to her that I might not be good enough for her—but then look how far I’ve come. Maybe in my lifetime, we’ll be equals.

  My hands slide closer and rest beside her hips.

  She wiggles, washing the razor off in the sink. “So the anchor?”

  “The anchor.” I nod. “Jax and I went into a tattoo place when we were sixteen. We knew a kid who was working under someone, so they didn’t card. He got the compass and I got the anchor. It’s not our most brilliant plan. I was supposed to see the compass on his chest and that’d tell me to explore the world. Don’t stay in one spot. And if he looked at my anchor, he should remember to have a place to call home.”

  “So in truth, maybe you should’ve gotten the compass and he should have gotten the anchor?” She chuckles.

  “Yeah, which is exactly why I make sure to tell my clients if their ideas are stupid. I’m blunt and have insulted more than one customer, but I won’t have it on my conscience. Plus, if you knew how many calls we get days after we do a tattoo.” I shake my head.

  Regrets. People with regrets. I’ve never wanted to have them, which is probably why I’ve never ventured too far from where I grew up.

  “And do you want to travel? Be like Jax?”

  There’s a hitch in her voice. She doesn’t know if she wants the answer. I don’t blame her, because I’m not sure I want to give it to her.

&nb
sp; I shrug. “I don’t want to be like Jax, but sometimes I wonder. Who doesn’t wonder, right? Either about some old boyfriend or girlfriend. The what-ifs life leaves you with. But then I never would have come here to Cliffton Heights or moved into the Rooftop Apartments. I wouldn’t have met Ethan or Sierra, or Seth, or you. You’ve all given me a sense of family.”

  She swallows, and the small room grows quiet except for the sound of the razor against skin.

  “Rian?” I say, and her gaze dips up from my chin.

  The tension in the room becomes a living, breathing thing.

  A fake smile lands on her lips. “What?” She’s trying to be flippant.

  “Me and you. I can’t imagine you not in my life.”

  Her smile turns real as her entire face beams. “You don’t have to worry about that unless you’re going to travel the world like Jax.”

  I say nothing. Jax’s life isn’t for me.

  We go through the motions without saying much more. I’m not sure if we’re both lost in thought. I hold court in my head on whether to tell her that there’s a reason I never made a move on her. That fear paralyzes me. But then she’ll look at me like I’m weak, which I am. She swipes up the last strip of my neck and looks over my face.

  “It’s coming though,” she says, never making eye contact.

  “What is?”

  “Ethan’s engaged. Sierra’s not far behind. Knox and Leilani are practically moving in together. Eventually, every one of us will find someone to share our life with.”

  I doubt Knox and Leilani have any happy ever after in their future if the past is an indicator, but I keep my opinion to myself. “Doesn’t mean we won’t still be in each other’s life.”

  She nods and wets a washcloth, wiping it down my face. “Not every day. Not like we are now. You don’t hear about married couples who all live together with their kids.” Her hand pauses. “But you don’t plan on getting married.”

  She says it like a fact. I’ve never said that, but I guess I’ve never disputed it either. Mostly because I never thought marriage was for me. Not because I’m into juggling a million girls at one time. It’s mostly because the girls I’ve dated aren’t the marrying type and girls like Rian… I’m not even going there.

  “True. I guess it’s inevitable for me to be the fun uncle, huh?”

  Her hands fall to her lap as though the washcloth is now too heavy to hold up. “Why don’t you want to get serious with anyone?”

  I step back, shift over, and look in the mirror, my hand sliding over the smooth skin. “Wouldn’t you like to feel this along your inner thighs?” I pull her hand up to my face.

  No smile creases her lips. “Don’t do that.” She jumps off the counter, snatching her hand back.

  I follow her out of the bathroom. “What?”

  She whips around. “Don’t use sexual advances to keep from answering the question.”

  “It’s not some new revelation. I’ve always been upfront and honest about my feelings on commitment. Plus, you like my sexual advances.” I step closer, locking her to the wall. “You blush when I say them.”

  Her hands land on my chest and she shoves me back before stepping over and jumping off the arm of the chair to get to her room. At the last minute, she circles back around, up on the chair and back down again, poking her finger at me. “You know what I think? You’re scared. The whole no commitment thing is so you can keep everyone at arm’s length. I think you really want a wife and kids and the whole package, but you’d rather act like you don’t than let someone in here.” She places her hand over my heart.

  I desperately deny the urge to cover her hand with mine.

  “As far as the sexual advances. Yes, they make me blush because I want those things from you. I want to feel the smoothness of the skin I just shaved run up my thigh. I want your hands and lips to explore my body. And you can act like you don’t want those things, and until recently, I believed you. I thought I was invisible to you.” Tears well in her eyes and my heart splinters as if it took a blow from a sledgehammer.

  She’s never been invisible to me.

  “Rian,” I whisper.

  She shakes her head, and strands of hair fall from her ponytail. The tears magically disappear, and fury transforms her blue irises. “Go ahead and deny it. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll box you up and put you on the top shelf.” She pulls my good hand up to run my fingers over her lips. “Tell me you don’t want to taste these?”

  I stare at her lips, but I say nothing.

  She tips her head back and runs my fingers down her throat and through the valley of her breasts. “How much do you want to truly feel me?”

  I’m stunned into silence because I never thought there was a woman like this living inside Rian. She’s putting her hand out for me to see. Everything the pansy inside of me hides.

  All my muscles tense, trying to deny the urge to give into her. The thick air around us makes dragging in a breath impossible.

  “It’s now or never. Take me now or never.” She rests my hand between her breasts, her eyes glued to mine.

  When I say nothing, she shifts away, but I grab her wrist. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?”

  “Do you have any idea the agony you’re putting me through?”

  The cord of tension between us snaps like an elastic pulled to its limits, and I push aside the thought of all consequences. Whipping her around so her back is plastered to the wall, I cradle her cheek with my good hand and I lock her against it with my hips.

  “Just remember you asked for this,” I say and slam my lips to hers.

  My entire body feels as if it’s floating ad I’m having an out of body experience. That this is a dream would make sense, because Rian’s never complained to anyone about anything. She’s the least confrontational person I know.

  But as our lips melt together and she opens for my tongue, all the worries that fill my life every day vanish and all I feel, see, and smell is her. The sweetness of her perfume, the softness of her touch, the blush that goes from her neck to cheeks. I’d die kissing her and be content. She’s everything and nothing like I imagined she’d be, but one thing she is, is perfect.

  Someone knocks on the door, but it doesn’t stop us. I’ve waited too long for this, so whoever it is can go the fuck away. Rian’s grip on my shoulders must mean we’re in agreement.

  “Holy…” Seth says from somewhere behind us.

  My tongue only deepens the kiss because if Seth’s smart, he’ll walk back out that door. Rian’s moan says she’s on board with my plan.

  “Rian Isabella Wright!”

  Fuck. Our lips fly off one another’s and look toward the door to find Rian’s mom with her hands on her hips. Seth can’t hide his amusement—laughing, stopping, then laughing again. Eventually he covers his mouth with his shirt.

  “Mom!” Rian says, wiping her mouth while I back away from her.

  My heart that was flying like a balloon in the blue sky with white clouds pops, landing in my stomach like a semi-truck. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rian

  You’d think someone screamed fire with the speed that Dylan shakes my parents’ hands, heads to his room for a second, says goodbye and is out the door. Seth follows him.

  As soon as they leave, my mom says my name like a question, as though she doesn’t need to ask me the actual question of why I was lip-locked with Dylan when she walked through the door.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You know exactly what. Am I to assume you finished that math equation if you have time to kiss your roommate?”

  My dad sits at the kitchen table, grabbing an apple out of his pocket and biting into it. I’m not even going to ask where he got the apple.

  “I haven’t figured it out yet. Well, the first part I have, but that’s it.” I grab a water from the fridge. “Do either of you want anything?”

  “Water would be great,” my dad sa
ys, smiling. “You look good, sweetheart. Your cheeks are rosy like when you were a baby.”

  “Because she couldn’t breathe with Dylan suctioned to her face like that,” my mom says, sitting. “Do you have coffee? I didn’t have enough this morning and I have a horrible headache.”

  “I can make some.”

  Which I will gladly do in order to not have to sit at that table. It’s much easier for me to roll my eyes with my back turned to her.

  As my mom rambles on about Johann, all I can think about is how I had the nerve to pressure Dylan into kissing me. I was so angry with his flirty behavior, knowing he wasn’t planning to back it up with action. I also can’t stop thinking about what his lips felt like on mine. The way he didn’t want it to end—just like me. Although he barely touched me, it felt as if he was everywhere on my skin.

  “Hanging out here isn’t the type of environment you need. A tattoo artist? And then that Seth gave me a business card of what he does. Nude pictures.” She purses her lips and shakes her head.

  “I don’t know, Barbie. Maybe we should give it a try.”

  I glance over my shoulder to see my mom’s reaction to the thought of having her picture taken in lingerie. My dad waggles his eyebrows as my mom looks at him as if he’s lost his mind.

  “It’s not nude, Mom,” I say, turning back around.

  “There’s a picture on his business card.”

  “Let me see it,” my dad says.

  “I dropped it by mistake in the hallway.”

  I huff. Does she really think Seth won’t figure out what she did?

  I’m not sure what look my dad gives my mom, but she sighs. “I did. Sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to lower your IQ by looking at nude pictures. Next thing, you’ll be asking me to have plastic surgery.”

  Mom is the most dramatic person I know. I always chalked it up to her growing up gifted with the name Barbie. Had to have been hard on her.

  “Did you stop in here just to ask me about the equation?” I let the coffee pot work as I lean against the counter.