Four heads swivel in my direction, but the only sound in the cab of the truck is from the rumble of the engine.
With the quesadilla an inch from my mouth, I pause. “What? What is it?”
My brother growls, “Don’t ever make a sound like that when I’m around again.” He shudders. “Ever.”
“A sound like what?” I laugh.
Pointing his index finger an inch from my face, he repeats, “Ever.” Then he unwraps his taco and devours it in three bites while I go back to eating my deliciously cheesy quesadilla.
Oh, Milo. So bossy.
10
Reese
The stairs creak beneath my feet, making me flinch as I sneak down to the kitchen. With the entire house painted in darkness, I cling to the banister then breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the main floor without waking anyone up.
I can’t sleep, and I blame my stupid attraction for a stupid roommate for keeping me up. I could’ve sworn I heard moaning. But maybe I’m imagining things.
Please say I’m imagining things.
And why do I even care in the first place? It’s not like anything can ever happen between us. I would never betray Milo like that. And I don’t think River would cross that line either, no matter how much he likes to flirt with me.
It can’t happen.
Ever.
So, why do I care that he took someone else on a date tonight? Someone who wasn’t me. Why does it feel like a slap in the face after we spent the day together? He doesn’t owe me anything. At all.
So, why. Do. I. Care?
Desperate for some tea, I open the cupboards and begin my search, but it’s too freaking dark in this place. I blindly search for a switch on the wall and flip it on. The light above the sink isn’t very bright, but it does the job. There’s coffee, protein powder, and a few boxes of kid cereal. No tea.
Lovely.
My shoulders hunch in defeat before I flick off the light when the stairs squeak quietly in the otherwise silent house. My head snaps in its direction. I tiptoe toward the hall to investigate, but when a soft giggle breaks the silence near the entryway, I freeze.
Shit.
With barely-restrained curiosity, I squint my eyes and make out two bodies near the front door. It’s a different girl from earlier. But the guy pressing her against the wall doesn’t have a shirt on, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who he is.
Taking care of the moneymaker, River? Really? With what? Orgasms?
I roll my eyes and try to ignore the sharp pain in my chest. He grabs the door handle and ushers his new guest outside. When the front door closes, he turns and faces me before his heavy steps echo down the hall toward the kitchen.
My heartbeat freaking skyrockets, but my feet stay planted in place.
Why do I feel like I just got caught doing something I shouldn’t?
Needing to disappear, I look around the kitchen for a hiding spot, but it’s too late.
“Hey, Roomie,” River calls, keeping his voice low.
With an awkward wave and the knowledge I’ve been caught spying, I shove my jealousy aside and mutter, “Hi.”
“You look good in my T-shirt.”
The hem of his shirt barely reaches my mid-thigh. I tug at it before giving up. “If I’d known it was your last one, I would’ve just borrowed one of Jake’s.”
“Bet he would’ve loved that,” he mumbles under his breath before flipping on the light switch.
“Excuse me?”
He ignores my comment. “I’m wearing pants, so I’m abiding by Milo’s rules, unlike someone I know.” His pointed stare makes me squirm before he adds, “But shirts are still optional, Lil’ Miss Rule Follower, and I reserve my right to go without. You’re welcome to do the same if you feel so inclined, by the way.” His teasing makes my stomach tighten before he changes the subject, practically giving me whiplash. “Were you looking for something?”
“Oh.” I shrug and scan the dark cabinets that failed me. “Couldn’t sleep. I was just looking for tea or something.”
“Was I keeping you up?” His concern is like another knife to the chest, but I keep my poker face in place.
“With your sexcapades? Nope. Didn’t hear a thing,” I lie. “Although I’m impressed with your endurance. Sounded like quite the crescendo around 2 am. Bravo, Roomie. Not too shabby.”
“Happy to oblige. Hell, I might’ve invited you to participate. Ya know, if you weren’t Milo’s little sister.”
“Not interested.”
“You sure about that, Floozy?”
I gulp. “Positive.”
His crooked smirk almost does me in as he inches closer. Like a deer in the headlights, I freeze before my backside hits the counter behind me. He crowds me against it then pulls out a pair of mugs, setting them beside my hip on the swirling granite.
As his scent tickles my nostrils, my mouth waters. The guy smells like sex and bad decisions.
Very bad decisions.
And very good sex.
He steps back to give me some space and warms some water in a tea kettle on the stove.
Desperate for air, I take a deep breath, praying the oxygen will wake me up from this encounter, and I’ll be tucked in bed and away from the smell of sex and bad decisions.
“Darn genetics,” I quip, forcing myself to focus on anything but his abs and the way they flex with his every move. I shouldn’t be noticing them. My fingers shouldn’t be itching to touch them. My mouth shouldn’t be craving his taste even though I’ve never sampled his lips before. Especially when they were pressed against someone who wasn’t me earlier tonight.
What is wrong with me?
“Darn genetics.” He laughs. “So, how was Lord of the Rings?”
“Fine. How was your floozy?”
His gaze heats as he glances over at me with a smirk. “Distracting.”
My brows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you like honey or sugar in your tea?” He pulls open a drawer near the stove and pulls out two tea bags.
“Honey, please,” I answer, making a mental note as to where the tea is kept while brushing off the way he ignored my question. Then again, I’m not sure I want to know what he meant about his floozy in the first place.
As he pours the hot liquid over the tea bags in our mugs, I ask, “Is it caffeine-free?”
That same crooked smirk greets me as he answers, “I might look like a god, Reese, but I’m still very human and need my sleep after a night like tonight.”
“Which means…?”
“It’s caffeine-free.”
“You could’ve just said it’s caffeine-free without adding the whole look like a god comment.”
“And miss your disgusted expression? Where’s the fun in that?”
Shaking my head, I attempt to hide my annoyance by talking, but it’s no use. “Are you always this cocky with the ladies?”
“I’m more cock-y,” he emphasizes, “with all the ladies. This is me toning it down.” He adds a drizzle of honey into the steaming tea and sets a mug in front of me. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For toning down your cockiness?”