The first hardback I come across is the one I was looking for. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I’m surprise it’s not dusty, but then again, my brother pays someone to clean for him on a weekly basis, so it shouldn’t really come as a shock.
I take the book to the kitchen and go straight to the drawer where I know he keeps pens and notepads. I quickly jot down a message and slip it inside the cover. Before I leave the kitchen, I poke my head into the laundry room and make sure Hermione’s food and water is full before I grab a bottle of juice and return upstairs.
My eyes immediately scout the doors. Caleb’s is still closed, and I’m sure Hermione is in there, ready to pounce every time he moves his leg. The other guest bedroom door is open, even though I told myself I wasn’t going to look, and while it stands ajar, the one directly across the hall is not. That’s my brother’s home gym.
Without even giving them direction, my legs carry me toward the closed door. I can hear rapid thumping and can picture Brock running on the treadmill. Honestly, that surprises me a little, considering how exhausted they were when they got home from practice.
Not wanting to disturb him, I turn to retreat to my own room when I realize I’m still holding the book. Instead of giving it to him tomorrow, I slip into the room with the open door, my senses completely overcome with his woodsy, masculine scent. It’s so heady, it makes me pause where I stand and just inhale.
Like a creeper.
A quick look around tells me he’s a fairly neat guy. The closet doors are shut, and the dresser appears organized and tidy. There’s a pair of shorts folded on the chair and some slip-on shoes beneath it, and all I can think is this isn’t the bachelor room I expected to see. I mean, there’s a reason my brother has a housekeeper.
Needing to get the hell out of here before he finds me naked in his bed—according to the internet, that’s happened more than once—I set the book on his pillow and l leave. Once I’m back in my own room, I shut the door and take a deep sigh in relief.
Of course, my room doesn’t smell nearly as yummy as his did.
I force myself to get into my own bed, grab my e-reader, and try to relax. I skip through the sex scene knowing it won’t do any good to read it in my current state and stay up until the book is finished. Only then do I finally feel tired enough to fall asleep.
Until I remember Brock’s meeting me in the kitchen at eight to make breakfast.
Maybe I won’t be getting much sleep after all.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Brock
I slept like shit. This time it had nothing to do with being in a new place and everything to do with my new roommate. When I got back to my room last night, there was a book on my pillow with a note.
Brock,
For a rainy day
Joey
It was simple as far as notes go, but it smelled like her. Yes, I smelled the fucking piece of paper like a creeper. It took everything in me not to go to her and thank her. There are a million ideas racing through my mind as to how I can properly thank her. Instead, I lie in bed staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, thinking about her silky-smooth skin underneath my fingertips. Fuck me, but I couldn’t help but touch her when she was that close. It was a risk with Caleb sitting in the same room with us, but it was one I was gladly willing to take.
She’s intoxicating.
Hence the reason I can’t stop thinking about her. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s quarter past seven. I still have forty-five minutes before I’m supposed to meet Joey downstairs for breakfast. Tossing the covers off, I strip out of my boxer briefs and head to the shower. I don’t wait for the water to heat, hoping that the ice-cold jolt will cure this hard-on that I have for her. It turns out luck isn’t on my side today. In fact, the more I think about her, the harder I get. Knowing I can’t stand close to her and make breakfast like this, I take matters into my own hands.
Bracing one hand on the shower wall, while the other slides between my legs to grip my cock, I tug roughly from root to tip. I close my eyes and she’s all I can see. My hand moves faster and faster until I feel the tingles in my spine. Her name is a murmur on my lips as I blow all over the shower wall. Hanging my head, I let the water rain down on me. The water is finally warm, but I feel cold. Empty. I can’t help but think that if Joey were here with me, we’d both be warm.
Shaking out of my thoughts, I quickly wash off and spray down the wall with the detachable showerhead before climbing out and wrapping a towel around my waist. I’m quick to dress, just some boxer briefs, a pair of gym shorts, and a Ramblers T-shirt. Grabbing my phone, I make my way downstairs.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Joey’s chipper voice greets me.
“You’re early,” I say, stepping around the counter just to be closer to her. I stop next to the stove where she’s frying bacon. With my back to the counter, I rest against the edge, crossing my ankles. I’m trying to appear to be unaffected, but I have no idea if it’s working. I’ve never had to pretend that a woman didn’t turn me inside out. Joey’s the first and only to do so.
I grip the counter beside me, and I’m sure on the outside I look unaffected, but my nails are digging into the granite countertop, all from the extreme effort of trying not to touch her. I really want to touch her. My fingers ache, not from my grip but from the need to feel her soft skin.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Everything okay?” I release my grip on the counter and turn to face her. Her hair has fallen out of her bun, and a strand has caught in her eyelash. I don’t even think before I reach out and tuck the errant strand behind her ear. Her hair feels like silk.
“Yeah, everything’s good.” She smiles, but it’s not her usual sunshine smile.
“You know that you can talk to me, right? I won’t spill to your brother.” This time her smile is genuine, and it lights up my fucking world.
“Thank you for that. But I’m good. Promise.” She turns her attention back to the stove. “So, I decided on bacon, eggs, and toast? How does that sound?”
“Good,” I say, my voice gruff. “What can I do?”
“I think I have it under control. How about you grab yourself a cup of coffee and keep me company.”
“You want a cup?” I offer.
She points to a cup on the counter that I somehow missed. Then again, it’s not all that surprising when all I see is her. “I’m on my second cup.”
“How long have you been up?”
“I’m not really sure. I didn’t sleep all that great. I think I came downstairs to read at around six.”
I nod even though she’s not looking at me. “That’s about the time I was watching the shadows dance across the ceiling.”
“Did you get my gift?” she asks.
“I did. Thank you.”
“Did you read any of it?”
“No, my mind was preoccupied.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“You like talking about yourself?” I ask before I can think better of it.
She whips her head around to look at me. “What do you mean?”
Setting my cup on the counter, I move to stand behind her, placing my hands on her hips. “What I mean is exactly what I said. You asked me if I wanted to talk about it, and in case you don’t realize it, the thing that kept me from sleeping was you. So, if you like to talk about yourself, I’m game.” I step closer, aligning my front to her back. “I thought we were making breakfast together?” I ask.