I sigh. “We had a really hectic day at the spa today. People cancelling at the last minute and demanding that I reschedule them at impossible times. Plus, I got a few bad reviews on Amazon. Some really insensitive reviews. And to top it all off, my best friend Annaleigh is still on her honeymoon so I was supposed to go to the spring festival down by the river with my other friend Evangeline tomorrow but she had to fly back to Europe for a modeling gig. Basically, I have no one to go with. I actually really wanted to go. For the cotton candy, if nothing else.” I giggle, feeling like a vapid fool rambling and complaining like this. (I stop myself from reminding him that I’m on my period, too. He already made that awkward discovery when he tried to get me in his bed this morning.) “There. You happy? I just spilled all of my superficial problems to you. Now you can make fun of how petty I am.”
“Not petty at all, Blakely. You have every right to vent if you’ve had a bad day,” he comforts me, leaning back in his chair, “and I’ll go to the Carnival with you tomorrow.”
My insides spark when he makes the offer. A thrill whooshes through my stomach. “You’d go with me?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Why not? We’re roomies. We can hang.”
I chuckle at his choice of words. “We can ‘hang’?”
“Yup,” he says on a nod like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
I consider his offer for a second. Of course I want to go with him. I like spending time with him. He’s funny and sweet and staring at him is not an adversity. But a little voice in me asks if his offer means something more. I quickly smother the stupid thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything more. He’s just being nice. Can’t a guy be nice to you without wanting to be your boyfriend, Blakely?
“Okay,” I grin. “We’ll hang. We’ll go to the carnival together.” I feel dizzy from the rush of excitement.
He gets up from the table with his empty bowl and rinses it out in the sink. His neutral expression is a reminder not to get too carried away. It’s not a date. We’re just hanging out. He all but said it himself.
“Hey, I’m about to throw some popcorn in the microwave and watch some anime. Wanna join me?”
Before I’d met Nicholas, I wouldn’t have even considered watching cartoons. What a waste of time. Especially when I have writing to do. But right now, his offer is as irresistible as he is.
And I’m thrilled that he wants to just chill out with me, even though I’m on my period. Most guys avoid you like the plague until you’re done with all that menstruating stuff.
“I’d love to watch anime with you.”
He grins excitedly. “You’re gonna really enjoy this,” he says. “Dwarf Warriors is a masterpiece.”
I’m sure I won’t but whatever.
“Grab some sodas,” he instructs me, “and I think there’s Jello in the cupboard.”
“Jello? I haven’t had Jello since I was a kid.”
“Which is exactly why you’re having it tonight.”
I giggle as I peer into the pantry for the goodies. I glance over my shoulder, sneaking a peek at him while he puts the popcorn in the microwave.
I’m really starting to enjoy his company. A lot.
Chapter 24
Nicholas
Ten minutes into the movie and Blakely's sleeping. Curled up on the other end of the couch, she's absolutely perfect with her mouth slightly parted and light snores bursting past her lips.
I probably shouldn’t tell her about the snoring, though. She'd turn raspberry red and probably wouldn't make eye contact with me for a week.
And I like her eyes. I want those pretty green crystals looking at me.
And I like her mouth. Her hair. The curve of her hip. The fleshy mounds of her ass.
I like a whole lot about the girl. Not just physical stuff. I like all her contradictions. All her oxymorons. She's quiet but I know that she's tough. She's shy but it doesn't take away from her intelligence. Plus, she's kind and hardworking.
But most of all, I like the way she lets her guard down with me. The protective shield that she holds so tight around her, it slips away when it's just me and her...
God, would you listen to yourself, Nicholas? You're pussy-whipped before you've even had sex with her.
I had hoped that something would happen between us tonight. I know that she’s on her period but I still wanted to get her pretty lips wrapped around my cock. Yes – that would mean deviating from the plan. And it really isn't in my nature to deviate from the plan. Ever.
But this is nice, too. Just sitting here on the couch, watching her face glowing in the light of my computer screen, watching her chest rise and fall as I wonder what she's dreaming about.
Too bad she's not my girlfriend. Too bad she never could be. She's way too innocent and pure. The dark shadows of my world would swallow her up and by the time she gets spit back out, she'd be changed. She'd never be the same.
So, as much as I want her, I just have to settle for this.
Watching her balled up on the couch as the computer lights bounce off her sleeping face, listening to her snores rise above the audio of the movie, I have to let that be enough for me.
Chapter 25
Blakely
The enormous stuffed alligator Nicholas just won for me is tucked under my arm as we make our way through the crowd. My fingers tingle to lace with his as we walk side by side but I won't make a fool of myself. I keep having to remind myself that he's just my roommate-slash-temporary-lover. He’s definitely not by boyfriend.
My crush on him is pathetic. It's glaringly obvious that he doesn't feel anything for me. When I look him, my heart turns into an erratic base drum, meanwhile, he just gazes right through me with vacant eyes and a platonic smile. He’s nice to me – very nice – and he knows exactly what to do to make me buck underneath him and scream his name. But he doesn’t feel anything romantic for me. He doesn’t see me ‘that way’.
Yes, the fact that he's helping me discover my sexuality does complicate things a little. Giving your body to someone is the very definition of intimacy. But this is the 21st century and sex can be casual and fun without all those antiquated labels and rules and expectations.
That's what me and Nicholas are doing. We're making our own rules, setting our on goals and shunning traditional expectations. And holding hands at the carnival? Going steady? Falling in love? That's not part of the plan.
If only my heart would get with the program.
Other girls have been making eyes at him all night but he’s ignored them. He’s either totally blind to women trying to hit on him or he’s trying to be polite to me and not hurt my feelings. Either way, I’m glad that he’s not responding to their advances because I don’t know how I’d feel about having to share his attention right now.
We stop for cotton candy and I dig into the cloud of colored sugar like a child, getting my fingers stained and sticky. "My god. I freakin’ love cotton candy. I always have."
Nicholas looks over at me with an amused expression. "I thought I liked it too. But apparently, you're a bigger fan than I am."
I rip off a huge piece, barely able to stuff it into my face. "When I was a kid,” I say with a full mouth, “my dad would take me to the fair. It was our thing. My sister, Isla, she thought she was too cool to come with us and my mom didn’t like the crowds so it was always just me and him. We would even drive to neighboring towns just for the cotton candy and candied apples and funnel cakes." I giggle at the memory.
Nicholas doesn’t say anything. His hand settles on my waist so he can guide me to a bench overlooking the water. My blouse lifts slightly and his fingers flit my bare flesh. I feel fireworks exploding in my spine.
I draw in a sharp breath to steady myself. He doesn't even seem to notice.
"So how come you didn't drag your dad along to the fair today? Did you get too cool to hang out with your old man, too?" I’m sure that he’s only teasing me but there’s something dry and stiff in his voice.
I bi
te the inside of my lip. Tears burn the corners of my eyes. "Both of my parents died, actually. Seven years ago."
I look up at him, expecting words of comfort or sympathy. Instead he just stares at me for a long while with an unreadable expression before looking off into the distance, jaw clenched tight. I have no idea what to make of his reaction.
The silence stretches on until the opening notes of Frank Sinatra's Come Fly With Me comes on over the speakers. The performer on the stage nearby starts to belt out the beginning notes.
Nicholas reaches for me, pulling my hand into his. "Dance with me."
I recoil, trying to yank my hand from his. "What?"
"Dance with me." He hops up to his feet.
I give him the crazy eye. "No!" This guy just completely shut down when I told him about my parents' death and now, in the blink of an eye, he wants to dance? No, thank you.
My refusal doesn’t deter him though. He starts snapping his fingers and jiving in front of me, attempting to lure me to my feet. I don't want to smile. I try to fight it. But eventually, I give in when the crowd starts forming around him, coaxing me to participate. He grabs the cotton candy from my hand and tosses it into a nearby trashcan. I should be pissed that he threw out my treat but I'm mostly dazed by the handsome and charming but oh-so-complicated man dancing in front of me like no one's watching.
I try to bury my blazing cheeks in my palms but he takes my hand and pulls me up, wrapping his arms around my waist. Holding me close, he sways me left and right, then he spins me around and around.
And now I'm laughing as the crowd cheers. I struggle to keep up with his moves but I'm having fun. I'm so very aware of all the eyes on me but for once enjoying myself feels more important than worrying about the opinions of other people.
The song fades to the end and a round of applause breaks out. Nicholas takes a deep bow. Playing along, I do a curtsey and our little audience loves it. He pulls me close, tightening his body around me in a gesture that feels intimate and comfortable. I forget to feel shy or self-conscious. I’m too wrapped up in him, I’m too lost in his dark eyes and his dazzling smile.
People break away from the crowd and go about their own business. Nicholas' fingers are tangled with mine.
"You need to replace my cotton candy," I say sternly, trying to bite back my smile.
He glances over at me and smirks. "Why would I do that when you have leftovers all over your mouth?"
I gasp in horror. "You just let me put on a show in front of all those people when I have blue food coloring on my face?" I huff in anger.
"Sorry, I only just noticed it," he says solemnly as he wipes his glasses on the hem of his shirt, “I swear.” Then he shrugs. “You’re way hotter than everybody here, anyway. Blue lips and all.”
I roll my eyes even though he sounds perfectly genuine. But my tummy flutters at the idea that this guy finds me so pretty.
He touches his fingers to my lips. "Here. Let me help you."
My mouth tingles as he wipes the sugar away. "Did you get all of it?"
He shakes his head and tries again. "It's stained on or something."
I groan. "Really?" I feel my face heating at the idea of having to walk around all evening with blue stains on my face.
Nicholas steps closer and tightens his grasp on my hips. "This should do the trick," he says in quiet growl just before his mouth covers mine. He suckles my lips with his warm, plush flesh, drawing them between his teeth for soft, playful bites. His tongue probes through the opening, mingling with mine in a languid motion.
My knees nearly give way when kisses me like this. My arms wrap around his neck as I melt against his solid body. His big, warm hands slide down the back of my shirt causing my core to spasm readily. By the time he pulls away, I'm winded and mildly delirious, far from steady on my feet.
Nicholas inspects my mouth. "There. All clean." His voice is hoarse and deep.
I'm still dazed, staring into his eyes when I hear a familiar voice calling my name nearby. I turn back and see my sister and her fiance weaving through the crowd toward us.
"Hey..." I rasp out breathless and disoriented.
Isla gives me a shrewd smile that lets me know she saw that kiss. I blush hard, fighting a grin away from my lips. Thankfully, she doesn't tease me or even mention that very out-of-character PDA session. Instead, she turns to my roommate. "I'm Blakely's sister, Isla, and this is my fiancé, Reuben."
He shakes her hand and then Reuben’s. "I'm Nicholas." The men exchange greetings and Reuben visibly sizes Nicholas up. My future brother-in-law is very protective of me so I’m not surprised to see him assessing Nicholas for any signs of assholery.
I’m eager to break the tension that’s gathering in the air. “Are you two enjoying the carnival?” I ask.
Reuben’s attention turns to me and he half-smiles. "I'm trying to convince this lady to grab some corndogs before we go up to the gallery to wait for the fireworks," he tells us.
My health conscious sister scowls. “As if I’d eat corndogs!”
Reuben laughs and says, "You two are welcome to tag along."
I look to Nicholas and he smiles with that irresistible Old Hollywood charm. "Sounds good. What do you say, Princess?"
My heart beats faster when he calls me that. In public. "Sounds good." My stomach buzzes with restrained pleasure.
Isla claps her hands together excitedly. "Good! Let's go grab some snacks. No corndogs for me. I think I saw mango-on-a-stick over there." She takes Reuben's hand and turns toward the concession stands, pulling him through the crowd.
Nicholas slides his arm around my back and gently tickles my ribs. He presses his lips to my ear. "You feel better?"
My brows furrow with confusion. "About what?"
"You looked so sad when you talked about your parents'. I didn't like it. I wanted to make you feel better."
I smile at the strange man walking next to me and his equally strange ways. It all makes sense now. That dance was his way of empathizing with me. All things considered, it was so much more thoughtful than simply offering impersonal condolences.
"Yes, I feel better. Thank you."
His eyes register the small victory as we step up to the snack counter. “Good.” He pinches my ass and I yelp.
"Hey!"
“You okay?” Isla asks over her shoulder.
Nicholas and I share a look. “Yes! I’m great!” I answer quickly. My roommate smirks at me.
He's cheeky as hell and – fuck it – I’m diggin’ him.
Chapter 26
Blakely
I smile to myself as I read the message from my editor.
EllenEdits: What the hell has gotten into you, B.J.? Or ‘who’ has gotten into you? :) It's like you're a whole new person. Your writing is so damn passionate.
B.J. Hamilton Writes: lets just say i'm using the services of a very skilled 'consultant'!!
A string of excited emojis show up on my screen and I titter quietly, stretching out on my bed.
EllenEdits: Care to share?
I prop my chin up in my palm and consider it. This is a person I've never met, sitting behind a computer screen halfway across the country. I can be candid with her in a way I never could with my sister or my friends.
B.J. Hamilton Writes: my new roommate has been 'assisting' in very creative ways ;)
EllenEdits: I KNEW IT!!!
EllenEdits: I knew there was something different about your writing this time around. It has so much more depth.
B.J. Hamilton Writes: yes he's really helped me flesh out the sex scenes
EllenEdits: Honey, it's not just the sex scenes. It's the emotion, the dialogue, the character development, everything!! You’re bleeding on the page like a woman in love <3
My fingers freeze over my keyboard when I read her words.
In love?
Panic rises from my toes all the way up to my belly.
I'm not on love with him. I'm not. I'm not. This sex arrangement is a pro
ject. A joint venture between me and my roommate to make my book the best it can be. I'm not in love. With him. Oh god.
Yes, I spend most of the day thinking about him. His silly quirks like the way he tickles my ribs just to make me squirm. And the way he always plugs my laptop into the charger whenever I leave it hanging around the house. And the other day he downloaded a bunch of binaural instrumentals for my writing sprints to help make me more creative.
Plus, I adore the way he smells. The way the power of his stare reaches out to me from behind his glasses. The way he kisses me after an intense orgasm.
Dirty Lover (The Dirty Suburbs Book 5) Page 11