Reid took him out for another walk because the little con artist gave him the eye.
Now he was up early, congratulating himself on getting six hours sleep. Sure, he’d only woken up three times.
Jerked off twice.
Dreamed about Mrs. Potato Head who insisted he call her Ms. Sweet Potato Head.
Woke up with the theme from The Rockford Files on a loop in his head.
Damn dog better be worth it.
Probably not, he decided, because look the fuck here, if it wasn’t his roommate up before him, hanging in the kitchen with headphones on as she mixed something in a bowl. This should not have been a big deal except she wore a tank top and white panties.
Skimpy.
White.
Panties.
His dick jumped to life, like Bucky sensing his next meal.
He moved into her sightline to let her know he was there, when really it would have been better if he’d stealth-moded his way out of there. That way he wouldn’t have seen the subtle sway of her breasts as she faced him, the clearly hard nipples that seemed to point at him in accusation.
Can’t look. Can’t touch. Can’t taste.
These tits are not for you, dickhead.
In the split second as she turned and before she reacted to his presence, he caught sight of that dark patch of hair beneath the almost translucent white fabric, that triangle that hid nothing and tempted him to dream of falling to his knees and placing his mouth right there.
“Oh, sorry, I thought you were still asleep.” She waved over her body, almost an apology that only made it worse because now he was even more aware of those curves. The dips and swells, the places he wanted to visit with his tongue. “I only meant to nip out of my room for a second to whip up some blueberry muffins.”
Nip. Every word was loaded.
In the half-shadow of the under-cabinet lighting he noticed something else. Scar tissue on the side of her torso, in the sliver of revealed skin between her tank and her panties.
Frustration pierced his chest, barreling through his veins. Dressed in loose running pants and a long-sleeved tee, he was covered up and following the rules. The least she could do was treat him as the stranger he was.
“It’s …” Fine, he wanted to say. This is your home. Dress as much or as little as you please.
But it wasn’t fine. Not when he had weeks and months of sexual frustration to face. It was only the second week of November, far too early in the season to be confronted with this threat to his balance.
“It would be better if you assumed I’m always about to walk into the room.”
“Okay, that sounds scary.” She giggled and placed the mixing bowl on the counter. “Reid might be here any second. Reid’s turning the corner. Reid’s … almost … here!” She raised both her hands to her cheeks as fists and gave a mock, soundless scream.
“Or do whatever you want,” he muttered and walked out the door, grabbing Bucky’s leash as he went. The jangle was enough to bring him to attention.
“Reid!”
He was heading to the stairwell when she called his name again. Turning, he found her approaching in her winter coat (open, so covering nothing), but still in her bare feet.
Concern reared in his chest. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“Hey, don’t walk away when we’re having a discussion.”
“We weren’t having a discussion. I was telling you a rule of the house and you decided it was a joke.”
She bit her lip. “I did. I’m sorry about that. I was up early because Bucky peed in the hallway outside my room—”
“What?” He peered down at Bucky who was giving his trademark look of innocence. “I thought he was getting better.”
“He is. He does it more when you’re away so a definite improvement. I cleaned it up—not a big deal—and then I was awake so I thought I’d start baking. I really wasn’t thinking about how I looked and when you called me on it, I probably projected some of my subconscious annoyance at cleaning up after your puppy on you. Also, I have a tendency to push back at authority.”
That was a very mature response, versus his very immature, can’t-control-his-dick one. All he could do was mutter, “I’m not an authority.”
“You are. This is your place. Your space. Your rules. And I should respect that, especially given your particular situation right now.”
The no-sex situation. He should have kept that to himself, but now it was here between them like the lust-crazed elephant in the room. He inhaled a deep breath, trying to fill lungs that would rather refuse the air.
“I want you to be comfortable enough to feel at home. I shouldn’t ask you to change your habits for me, especially when it’s just you being … you. And especially when you’re being amazing cleaning up after this rogue here.” He shot Bucky another admonishing look. This time he had the decency to appear shamefaced. “It’s my responsibility to be a grown adult and not leer at my roommate. I shouldn’t have asked.”
She rushed forward and placed a hand on his bicep. The warmth of that touch, the thrill of it, flooded his entire body with awareness. Of him, of her, of what was barely covered by that winter coat.
Of what it might be like to back her up against the wall and lay his mouth on her gorgeous tits.
“No, of course you should have asked. This is your home and I’m a guest. I need to be more considerate of your feelings. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. This is your home now.” He placed his hand over hers, trapping it against his chest. It was meant only to acknowledge her apology but the heat of her seeped into him.
It might have been his imagination, but Reid could have sworn her eyes misted over before she quickly regrouped.
“Huh, maybe you’re one of the good ones, Reid.”
“Don’t let it get out. I have a rep to maintain.”
She reached up on tip toes and kissed his cheek. Oh, Christ. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I should get going.” Before I tear those panties off, and drive into your wet heat, deep and true. “Come on, Buck. Let’s talk about the right and wrong places to pee.”
His naughty little pup wagged his tail.
Another fifteen minutes added to the run should do it. And if it didn’t, Reid would add another thirty.
“Durand, my office, now.”
Reid looked up, only to see Coach Calhoun’s back leaving the locker room. He ran through the recent practice in his head. He’d acquitted himself well, might even have made a couple of the guys look like idiots, then spent extra time completing drills solo after everyone had come off the ice.
“What’ve you done, Duracell?” Theo Kershaw grinned the smile that launched a thousand Insta comments.
“Duracell?”
“Yeah, you’re like the Energizer buddy out there, but Duracell works better because of your name. Lots of energy to work off.”
“Needs a woman,” Erik Jorgenson said as he pulled at his pads. “If you had a woman to go home to nap with, you wouldn’t need to spend so much time doing extra, unnecessary drills.”
Reid had a woman. Or, he had a roommate who was hotter than the hinges of hell, which for a man who went sex-free during the season, was probably one of the worst ideas in the history of bad ideas.