Room Mates_The Series

by Kendall Ryan

  “Looks like you could use some water. Come on.” She motioned for me to follow her, and I was careful to close the door quietly behind me before doing just that.

  In the kitchen, she had a glass with ice water waiting for me, and was opening a bottle of ibuprofen I kept above the sink.

  “I don’t need that,” I muttered, then gulped the crisp, cold water. I made a mental note to drink more water. It was so refreshing.

  “Do it for my sake then,” she said, holding out a few pills in her palm. I took them and popped them in my mouth, if only in hopes that it would make her smile at me with those straight white teeth of hers.

  “Okay, time for bed, I think. What do you say?”

  She strolled away and I followed her again, this time watching her curvy hips sway beneath her boxer shorts as she moved. My cock flexed, waking from its drunken slumber to weigh in on the view.

  She led me up the stairs and into my bedroom. I flicked on the light as we stepped in. On the nightstand sat a single cupcake with a little “Happy Birthday” flag stuck into the perfect swirl of chocolate icing.

  I blinked, staring at it in wonder. “Did you make that for me?”

  “Dylan and I did.” She shrugged. “It was nothing.” Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink, and I stepped toward her.

  “It’s not nothing. You do so much for me.” I took her hand, wanting to thank her, but the second I touched her skin, that damn electric pulse shot through my veins and I wanted to pull her closer, to smell the sweet lavender of her hair again. To feel her lips against mine.

  There was a reason I shouldn’t. I knew it was in there somewhere, but damn it all if I could think of it right now—especially not with her silky hair hanging down her back and her cute little short-shorts framing that perfect ass.

  I glanced down at her hand, closing one eye again to stop the double vision, and wondered if it would be weird if I bent over and kissed it like they did in olden times. Luckily, she pulled it away from me before I drunkenly decided it wouldn’t.

  “Did you have a good birthday?” she asked.

  “It was okay. I would have liked it better if you were there.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. This girl came over to me and sat on my lap, you know,” I murmured, suddenly enthralled with the graceful line of her neck.

  Addison’s mouth flattened into a thin line, but then she smiled. “Ah, so it sounds like a very good birthday then.”

  “No, I made her get off.” I shook my head. “The only person I want on my lap is you.”

  Her eyes widened and her pink cheeks went crimson. “Oh boy, yep. Definitely time for bed.”

  “Listen, don’t placate me because I’m drunk. It doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth.” I took her hand again, this time pulling her close enough that her body was flush against mine.

  She fidgeted, almost like she was debating whether she should move away, but I wrapped my arm around her waist and rested my hand on her lower back.

  “I only want one birthday gift this year,” I said. “And it’s you.”

  I cupped her chin with my free hand and she stared into my eyes, her expression torn, like she was at war with herself.

  Time to see if I could help make up her mind.

  I swooped down, crushing my lips to hers, and that sweet electricity sparked between us again, igniting something in me I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before. I pulled her body closer still, wanting her to feel the thick outline of my erection. She moaned a low, needy sound as her hips arched against mine.

  I groaned in reply, rubbing against her so that my cock rode her slit in just the right spot. God, did I need to get inside her. Slide deep into that wet, hot warmth that I could feel branding me through the fabric of my jeans.

  I lifted a hand to cover one of her breasts, my pulse cranking up as her nipple pebbled beneath my fingers.

  To my surprise, her fingers trailed down my stomach, burrowing between us to cup my cock, running up and down over the fabric.

  Fuck if I didn’t want her to unzip me right then and there and slip her hand down the front of my boxers. I wanted her to tease me, stroke my swollen shaft up and down, and then get on her knees and do all the things I’d imagined her doing three times a day since she’d moved in here with me.

  Instead, she gripped me one last time and then slid her hand away to grab my ass, pulling me close to her again. We were lost in each other, consumed by the heat of our mouths, the feel of our tongues as they slid against each other. I stepped back, drawing her with me until I felt the bed frame behind me, but misjudged and went tumbling backward. When the room finally stopped spinning and I opened my eyes, I realized I was alone on the mattress.

  Addison stared down at me, her nipples hard, her chest heaving, and her eyes full of regret. “You’re drunk,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  Fuck.

  “But I want you,” I said, knowing I was slurring my words even as I said it and cursing myself.

  She shook her head slowly. “I know. And I want you. But not like this. We’ll talk tomorrow like adults when both of us have had time to let sanity prevail.” She pressed the back of her hand to her heated cheek, and then said, “Happy birthday, Max.”

  “Thanks.”

  I slumped back on the bed and watched as she left the room, my cock raging with unfulfilled need.

  Happy fucking birthday, indeed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Max

  “Tiffany, would you bring in the largest bottle of Tylenol you can find?” I rested my forehead on my palm and tried to think of anything else I could do to ease the throbbing pain of the world’s most epic hangover.

  Luckily, I hadn’t thrown up, or if I did, I definitely didn’t remember. Which wasn’t saying much because I already couldn’t remember how in the hell I got home from the bar. I made a mental note to get in touch with Zach and find out.

  Tiffany opened my door and rested a pill bottle on the corner of the desk. “Is that all you need?”

  “Coffee,” I croaked. “And . . . yeah, just coffee. From the deli across the street. It’s stronger than what we have here.”

  Her brow furrowed with worry, but she turned on her heel and clicked the door closed behind her.

  All morning, between hating myself for developing a taste for alcohol and cursing my friends for encouraging me, I’d been thinking of Addison.

  Just before I left for work this morning, I came into the kitchen to find her eating a cupcake, the tiniest bit of frosting clinging to the corner of her mouth. I wanted to walk over and kiss it away, then taste the sugar on her tongue.

  Instead, I’d grabbed some coffee and asked, “Do you have any idea why I woke up covered in chocolate frosting?”

  She gave me a wary grin. “No, but I do know when I put you to bed, I left one on your nightstand.”

  “Drunk eating.” I groaned. “Is there anything worse? Judging by the ketchup on my shirt, I’m guessing it wasn’t the first round of it either.”

  “A time-honored tradition,” she said with a nod and shot me a wink.

  “Tell me I didn’t do anything stupid,” I demanded, dread already building in my gut.

  “Not that I know of. I didn’t talk to your friends when they dropped you off, but you did say . . .” The color in her cheeks rose and she said, “You asked me for a very particular kind of birthday gift.”

  “Ah,” I said carefully. “I see.” I’d told her I wanted her a few days before, so there was no point in walking it back now. “Well, I can’t say that I regret that. Especially when I still don’t know your answer. Did you tell me last night?” Had I been so drunk that I wouldn’t remember something so fucking imperative? The thought was chilling. “Jesus, did you decide what you want to do and I missed it?”

  She swallowed another bite of her cupcake and shook her head. “No, but—”

  “You know what? Let’s talk a
bout it tonight.”

  I felt like a prisoner who had been given a stay of execution. After her seeing me behave like a stumbling fool, I needed at least one more chance to redeem myself before she made her decision. She nodded, and I scooped up my briefcase and headed for the door before she changed her mind. I was in such a rush to get out before she changed her mind that I brought the ceramic coffee cup to my truck with me.

  It didn’t matter, though.

  I needed to focus on tonight. I had to do something so perfect and Addison-inspired that she couldn’t possibly turn down my proposal. All I had to do was figure out what that thing would be.

  Normally, if I needed something like this, I’d ask Tiffany to handle it—she picked out the best flowers and fruit baskets, and I obviously had no idea what I was doing. But when it came to Addison? Well, I knew that wasn’t an option. If I wanted to win her over, I was going to have to do it myself. She deserved no less.

  As the day went on, I put together the pieces. I called in an order to the grocery store and to the florist. I picked out a special bottle of wine. I was going to do this right, and by the time I got home, I was filled with single-minded determination.

  While Addison changed Dylan, I rushed around the living room, picking up the toys and even vacuuming before she got the chance. When she came back down, I told her to relax in the living room while I handled the kitchen. She protested, but eventually she did as I asked.

  I cleaned the stove, the counters, and the tiles, and by the time I got to cooking, I cleaned as I went along too.

  “What are you up to in there?” Addison asked as she tried to walk toward the stove, but I waved her off.

  “Nope, dinner is a surprise. You spend time with Dylan.”

  While I cooked, I could hear her in the other room, playing with my daughter, reading her books and showing her how to stack blocks, and my stomach clenched.

  This time two weeks ago, I would have been cracking open a beer and ordering takeout for the thousandth time. Or maybe I would have been bringing home some random woman to warm my bed for the night, the only sort of company I’d kept until now . . . now that Dylan was here.

  And if I was being honest with myself, now that Addison was here.

  Looking back, I felt sort of bad for my old self—the lonely, restless existence that came from flitting from one woman to another. Having nothing to come home for.

  That was the way it had been with Jenn too. I’d thought back then that she was my girlfriend, but even that label had me skirting away just as fast as I could. And had she actually been a girlfriend? Not really. Thinking on it now, I realized I hardly knew anything about her. She would just come over, share a quick fuck, and then stare at her phone while we ate takeout. She never asked about my dreams, and I never asked about hers. We were together, but also apart. Strange that even then I knew it wasn’t something I wanted for life.

  That wasn’t companionship or a relationship at all. It was just mutual loneliness.

  Still, it was the most long-term relationship I’d ever had. Besides Jenn, it was only one-night stands and flings I could barely recall now. As much as I might have enjoyed a woman’s company, none of them had ever had the kind of energy and warmth Addison brought into the house.

  She was just so damn easy to talk to—like I could share my darkest secrets with her and she would understand everything I said. She shared about herself too. She’d told me about her stupid ex and her mother, and let me into her world.

  Only a few nights ago, we’d been sitting together on the sofa, watching something on TV, and she’d tilted her head to the side. “It must have been really hard to find out you’d be a single parent the way you did.”

  I’d nodded. “I guess it was, yeah.”

  “Most people have nine months to prepare, but you didn’t even have that. And looking at you and Dylan? You’d never know it.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  She pointed at the TV. “I was just thinking about the nanny on this show. She’s pretty much the only parent. That’s the way it was for my nanny, but it’s really not like that for me. You’re a good father.”

  My heart stuttered. “Thanks. I didn’t know you had a nanny.”

  She nodded, still staring at the TV. “She actually sort of looked like this lady.”

  The woman on the screen was chubby and kind-looking, with salt-and-pepper hair and an easy smile.

  “My mom made her wear a stupid uniform too.” She shook her head. “She was a single parent, like you. But she did her best.”

  “Not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

  “Science waits for no man. Without a father around, my mom couldn’t really follow her dreams and spend all her energy on raising me. It wasn’t her fault.”

  “Wasn’t it?” I’d asked.

  She’d glanced at me, a shadow of sadness tinged with regret playing over her face. “Every parent is different. I just want you to know that you’re a good one.”

  A trill of laughter sounded from the next room, interrupting my memory, and I smiled to myself, picturing the two girls together. If I didn’t know better, they might have been mother and daughter. So easy and comfortable together, almost instantly.

  “All right, dinner is ready.” I called them in, then swept my hand out toward the buffet I’d created.

  “Whoa.” Addison smiled as she walked into the room with Dylan on her hip. “What’s all this?”

  “Breakfast for dinner. You’ve made pancakes two times in the past week, so I thought—”

  Her grin widened. “I guess my secret is out. They’re the only way to eat cake for breakfast while maintaining your dignity, so they’re pretty much my favorite food.”

  “I guess so.” I cut up a pancake for the baby and sat her in her high chair while Addison loaded her pancakes with the fresh berries and homemade whipped cream I’d made.

  “I had no idea you could cook,” she said.

  “I got a little help from Pinterest,” I admitted, and she laughed.

  “I told you it’s addictive.”

  I joined her at the table with a plate, and we talked about our day.

  “How’s the hangover? Gone or still nursing it?” she asked around a mouthful of food.

  I grinned and tucked into my own stack. “Yeah, it was a rough morning, but by lunch I was fine.”

  “You really didn’t have to cook and clean like all this,” Addison said, but I shook my head.

  “I wanted to. You work hard, and I want you to know how appreciative I am.”

  Her eyes went suspiciously soft, and she looked away.

  For the next little while, the three of us ate and chatted, Dylan piping up with some happy squeals as I mashed up a strawberry for her. Addison and I cleaned off the table and sat back down with cups of decaf coffee while the baby played on the floor with a set of pots and pans. It was the most domestic evening of my life, and I was happier than a pig in shit. Who knew?

  Now if we could just end this night on the perfect note . . .

  “Dylan’s head is bobbing already, so if you want to put her to bed and then unwind while I do these dishes, that would be good.”

  “You can’t be serious. You—”

  I held up a hand. “Not negotiating.”

  She looked down at the sink full of dishes and then at Dylan. “I’ll pay you back for this.”

  “You will not,” I countered.

  She picked up the baby and carried her from the room, allowing me to watch her hips as they swayed. Something buzzed in my pocket and I flinched in surprise. That would teach me for letting her body hypnotize me so completely.

  I glanced down at the screen and saw a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Probably some telemarketer,” I grumbled, but I answered just in case. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” a familiar female voice said on the other end of the line, and I nearly dropped my phone.

  “Jesus, Jenn? Where the hell are you?” Fury, pan
ic, and frustration all filtered through my mind, but I couldn’t decide which one to pick.

  “I’m around. I just wanted to see how you and Dylan are doing.”

  “And you didn’t think to do that the day after you dropped her in my lap? Or maybe any of the days since?” I snapped.

  Silence crackled over the line before she blew out an annoyed sigh. “Max, don’t—”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t get to dump her off like a sack of flour and then call a week later and ask anything about my daughter.”

  “Our daughter,” she said quietly, correcting me.

  How was she so calm? It was like she was completely without feeling, reciting a speech she’d written long before this call.

  “You brought her here and left. That makes her my daughter now, Jenn.”

  There was a pause on the line, then she continued as if I’d never spoken. “Did you find the medicine I left in her diaper bag? She had some bad diaper rash and—”

  “I’ve been taking care of her. The diaper rash is gone,” I snapped.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Relief. Like all her problems were solved. “That’s good to hear. Is she eating well? Asking for me?” she asked hopefully.

  Asking for her? Like Jenn needed the validation of Dylan crying for her mother for her own selfish reasons. The thought sent a bolt of hot fury through me, and I gritted my teeth. “I’m hanging up.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t want to intrude; I just want to know how you’re all doing. Are you managing?”

  I clicked the phone off and then stared at it, dumbfounded.

  Where did she get off? I should have been the one asking questions. Why did you leave? Why did you keep her a secret?

  And the one that made my heart squeeze with dread.

  Are you going to come and take her back from me?

  Instead, I had to carry on with my life wondering when the ax would drop, if it ever would. The thought made me sick. All I could do was hope that the fact that Jenn had stayed away this long meant she was happy with her choice and confident in the knowledge that I would do whatever it took to keep Dylan with me.