Dirty Lover (The Dirty Suburbs Book 5) Page 5

  He’s even worked his way into my current novel. Taken by my Bad Boy Roommate should probably be re-named Blakely’s Big, Fat, Dirty Fantasy that’s Never (Ever) Gonna Happen.

  Hmmm…That actually has a nice ring to it. Maybe I’ll make it a standalone.

  Isla sighs as she grabs the binder containing the work schedules. "You're a god-send, Blakes." She examines the messy sheets of paper. "I can give you an extra shift on Tuesday at 3:30."

  "Perfect." I almost bounce in my seat with relief. "Anything on Friday night?" I ask.

  "Sure," she says absentmindedly. "The other girls never want to work Friday nights. They've always got 'big plans’." She draws air-quotes. "A new date every weekend. Reyfield isn't exactly rife with bachelors so I don't get it."

  That’s very true. Single men under 45 are a rare commodity in this town. Most of the males in this small Chicago suburb have prosthetic hips and are nursing-home-ready. The women around here get vicious whenever one of the few young, attractive guys of Reyfield go on the market. I know that as soon as they lay eyes on Nicholas and his broad shoulders and his juicy lips, it will be the Great Civil War of Reyfield over him.

  "Oh, by the way, Wesley tells me he hooked you up with a new roommate?" Isla tosses out excitedly.

  My eyes stay glued to the schedule. "Uh-huh," I say noncommittally. I pray to god my face doesn’t start pinking up.

  But my sister isn’t done with the subject. "What's his name? Is he cute?" A wide grin nearly splits her face in half.

  I shrug and try to act too cool to care. "His name is Nicholas. He's all right, I guess." Why is my voice so high-pitched right now?

  Isla collapses against the back of her chair and roars with laughter. "Ah! You think he's cute!” she coos. “Aww, Blakes!" She reaches across the table and taps my hand like she's petting a vulnerable little kitten.

  I spew a string of unconvincing denials but Isla just continues to giggle. "I didn't come here to be mocked," I say, turning up my nose at her. I take a quick snap of the schedule with my phone and bound toward the door. "I'm getting out of here. I’ve got to meet up with Annie, Evangeline and the gang for lunch. Bridesmaid duties."

  "Can I come over to meet him next week?" she shouts after me. I pretend not to hear her, hurriedly closing the door behind me.

  I love my sister like crazy. Ever since our parents died, she’s been the only constant in my life. But I won’t sit here, dishing to her about who’s cute and who isn’t. We’re not in middle school.

  Chapter 7

  Blakely

  At the sound of the doorbell, I leap out of bed and charge out of my room. I've been waiting for this delivery all day.

  My heart does its usual tap dance routine as I barrel past the living room and see Nicholas sitting on the couch shirtless, watching a movie.

  "Hey Blakely." He casually throws that smile my way and I nearly trip over my own feet.

  "Hey," I practically whisper with my head down, undeterred on my clumsy voyage to the door. Thankfully, he turns his focus back to the movie instead of trying to pursue a conversation with me.

  I yank the door open and the postal service guy stands there with my package tucked under his arm. His eyes do a predatory sweep down my body before he flashes me a smirk that betrays his nasty thoughts. "Hey there, pretty girl," he growls, a toothpick hanging off the side of his grin.

  My systems go on high alert. The guy is good-looking enough. Dark hair, blue eyes, medium build. But he just gives off this I-don't-take-no-for-an-answer vibe that's really not cool.

  He spits out his toothpick behind him and bites down on his bottom lip as he stretches the signature clipboard to me. "Got a big, special package for a special, little lady."

  God - how does he make such a simple sentence sound so slimy?

  I sign quickly and pass the paper and pen back to him before he hands me the wide, flat Hewlett Packard box. He pauses for a second and stares at me before propping his hip up against the doorframe, crossing his feet at the ankles. He lowers his voice. "Hey, I get off work in about an hour. What do you say I swing back over here and help you set up that new laptop?"

  With the box tucked under my arm, I take a step back, gripping the doorknob. "Uh, no thanks."

  His eyes settle on my breasts making me feel dirty. "You sure –" he stares down at his pad for my name "– Blakely? Mmm. What a nice name."

  I force a smile. "I'm sure." I try to swing the door shut.

  He sticks his foot out to stop me. "Come on, baby. I don't bite."

  Okay. Now, I'm panicking. I try to recall the self-defence moves I saw on the Ellen Degeneres Show that one time. Should I strike him first or wait until he puts his hands on me?

  I feel a presence closing in over my shoulder right as I'm about to start hyperventilating. "Don't worry about it, dude," Nicholas roars as his arm slides around my waist and he pulls me deeper into the apartment. "She has a man around here to take care of those sorts of things." He stands between me and the mailman, never taking his grip off me.

  The guy stumbles back from the doorway, his hands up in surrender. "Was just being helpful, man. No harm, no foul."

  "Well, your help isn't needed," Nicholas snares, all tough and alpha.

  The man continues to grumble as he hightails it back to his waiting truck.

  Nicholas slams the door behind him and faces me. “You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “You sure?”

  I'll admit I’m a little shaken up. There’s no telling just how insistent that guy would have become if my roommate hadn’t intervened. But I’ll be fine. “I’m sure,” I promise him.

  I risk a peek past his glasses, into his eyes. They’re some nice eyes. Coffee brown with specks of gold and radiating warmth. How come I never noticed before? Maybe because I've been staring at my feet for the past three weeks.

  He studies me for a while and when he’s satisfied with what he sees, his arm drops from around me. As he turns back to the couch, I give him a little smile and say, “Thank you.”

  Seeing Nicholas stick up for me pushed all my hot buttons. I love a possessive alpha male, a man who makes me feel safe.

  Except that Nicholas isn’t my man. He’s my roommate.

  Le sigh...

  “No problem,” Nicholas says as he resumes his movie. His expression has gone neutral again.

  With my new laptop under my arm, I head toward my room.

  “Leave that on the kitchen table,” he calls out to me.

  I spin around to look at him. “Leave what on the kitchen table?”

  “Your new computer,” he says, “I’ll set it up for you. Y’know, download all the programs, install the anti-virus, transfer your files over –”

  “No!” I shout a little too hastily.

  He gives me a strange look. “Um…”

  Now, he's just being misogynistic as hell, implying that I need a man to set up my computer. I don't need his help. I’m a woman of the millennium. Hear me roar! Well, maybe not ‘roar’ roar because I’m Timid Blakely, but you know what I mean.

  But aside from all that feminist stuff, the thought of Nicholas playing around with my files, particularly my manuscripts, particularly my newest manuscript, is enough to cause convulsions in my chest.

  No, thank you!

  “I’ve got really good anti-virus,” he offers again. “Most people don’t adequately protect their computers against hackers –”

  I shake my head insistently, holding the box tightly to my chest. “I’m good. I don’t have anything worth hacking on my computer. So, no thanks on the anti-virus and stuff.”

  “I’m a tech expert,” he reminds me, “It’ll take me a fraction of the set-up time that it would take you.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “Blakely…” He pins me with those intense eyes.

  “Really, I don’t need help.”

  His lips pull into a frown. His shoulders slump in defeat. “Suit yourself, then.”
<
br />   For a second, I allow my eyes to connect with his again and I instantly get lost. I feel all light and effervescent on the inside. God, he’s gorgeous. I break his gaze and continue toward my bedroom.

  I close the door softly behind me and tear the box open, digging around for the manufacturer’s instructions. I settle on my mattress and open the computer in front of me.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  Chapter 8

  Blakely

  ‘Glamorous’ by Fergie plays in the background as I dot the nude gloss onto my mouth and rub my lips together. I had to leave my laptop charging on the kitchen table since none of the plugs on this side of the house work. Thankfully, the speakers are really powerful and the sound carries throughout the apartment. I lean back to take in my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  This bridesmaid’s gown isn’t half-bad. It’s a dusty rose chiffon maxi cut low in the back and cinched tight at the waist by a rhinestone belt with a thigh-slit so high it should be illegal. It obscures my wide hips and thanks to the Spanx I’m wearing underneath, my paunch isn’t a problem today. I spin around to get a good look at myself in the mirror.

  Yeh – I look good.

  I’m glad that Evangeline took it upon herself to pick out the gowns because if left to her own devices, Annaleigh would have her bridal party walking down the aisle in classic rock band t-shirts and ripped boyfriend jeans.

  I wiggle my butt to the beat as I pick up my rhinestone choker and bring it to my throat, attempting to clasp it behind my neck. I’m wearing fake nails, though, something I don’t do often. The damn hook keeps slipping, making each attempt to secure it unsuccessful.

  I grunt in frustration. I should have gone over to Evangeline’s to get dressed. But I got preliminary notes on Taken by my Bad Boy Roommate back from my new editor, the extraordinary EllenEdits, this morning. And they weren’t good. I think back to all the things she’d said.

  EllenEdits: Unoriginal. Formulaic. Unrealistic. This book reads like you’ve never gotten laid in your whole life.

  BJ Hamilton Writes: Wow! That’s harsh, Ellen!

  EllenEdits: Hun, if I don’t say it, your readers will. Take the blowie scene in chapter 12 for example. Do limbs even turn that way? Unless your neck is on hinges, it's impossible to give a blowjob in that position. It was so incredibly awkward.

  I’m paying a handsome sum for her unfiltered honesty. And well, I couldn’t argue with her opinion since I’ve never actually given a blowie.

  Anyway, I started working on my re-writes and that’s how I lost track of time. I know I should have probably pushed it off until after the wedding but writing means so much to me. It’s my outlet, my escape, my savior. Y’see, when I was a kid, everybody in school would tease me about my red hair and freckles so, I would stay in my room and read. All summer when everyone else was out playing hopscotch and going to camp and having first kisses, I was perched on my little twin bed surrounded by books. As I got older, I started writing and people stopped teasing me straight to my face, but my love for hiding out in fictional worlds grew stronger with time. I am so grateful for the opportunity I have now – I get to tell my stories and complete strangers pay money to read them. So, excuse me if I get a little carried away sometimes.

  Anyway, now I only have minutes to spare before I have to jump into my car and hightail it to the church before the start of the ceremony.

  “Argh!” I groan loudly when one of the nails pulls away from my nail bed and I still haven’t been able to hook the damn necklace.

  There’s a tap at my door. “You okay in there?”

  Fuck…Nicholas.

  He left for a jog a while ago and I’d assumed he wouldn’t be back until after I left the house. Because of the music, I hadn’t even heard him come in. Knowing that he heard my loud, weird outburst causes embarrassment to rush to my cheeks.

  His voice rings out again. “Blakely?” His face appears in the crack of the bathroom door and before I have the chance to assure him that I’m okay, he pushes the door open.

  He’s dressed in a white sleeveless t-shirt and athletic shorts with sweat dampening his forehead. His face is still flushed from his run and his damp clothes mold to his skin. He is so fucking sexy.

  His eyes jaunt down my body at a leisurely pace. I try to read his expression and for a second, I worry that maybe I don’t look as good as I thought. But then, he bites down on his bottom lip and his eyes sweep over my face.

  "Blakely, you look fucking hot…” he breathes.

  A shiver runs through me at the compliment. I can’t help but take a little step back. The thrill of his words is that forceful.

  He flashes an impish smile. "That may have been a bit too blunt, huh?"

  “N-no. It’s okay. Really,” I stammer, “Thanks.”

  He smiles softly. His gaze falls down to my hands where I’m clutching the choker between my fingers. He tips his head in that direction. “You need help with that?”

  I give him a little nod and I set it in his palm. He moves behind me, draping the necklace around my throat. My belly tingles from his proximity. His warm, minty breath skirts my flesh and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention as he clasps the hook effortlessly.

  His hands settle on my shoulders and he slowly turns me around. "All done," he whispers in a husky voice as his hands travel down my sides, smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress. His eyes follow the path of his hands and when his fingers find my hips, they flex against me causing a groan to slip past my lips. The playful smirk he usually wears is gone, replaced by lust so raw, so severe that it almost scares me.

  "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." The words seem to pour out of his mouth without his volition. Like it's something he can't control.

  He stares at me through those thick glasses and it's almost as if the lenses were a magnifying glass focused straight into my soul. I want him. And in this moment, I'm sure he knows it. And I don't even want to hide it.

  I swallow hard, licking my bottom lip and his musky scent surrounds me. My eyes are on his mouth. I want to feel it on me. I want to feel the weight of his body pinning me down. The urge has never been stronger. He moves closer, burying his nose in my hair. My body keens toward him, my breasts seeking contact with his rock hard abs. The heat of his body is so inviting. I just want to collapse against his strong chest and wrap his arms around me, drowning in his masculine fragrance.

  His lips are so close. I swear he's going to kiss me. And I'm going to need a heart transplant.

  But just as my lips part and go in search of his, the song changes. Another upbeat pop tune comes on, yanking us out of the moment. Nicholas pulls back. With a brusque step away, he releases his grip on me. “You’re gonna be late,” he mumbles.

  Right…Annaleigh. The wedding.

  “I should go.” My voice is so quiet and lustful that I can hardly hear it over the blood whooshing in my ears.

  I step out into the hallway and take one look back at him just as he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. I just about swoon. "Enjoy your friend's wedding, Blakely."

  The door closes slowly and through the thin wall, I hear the shower turning on.

  Chapter 9

  Nicholas

  It’s messing with my head.

  I’d never wanted to kiss somebody so bad in my life, seeing Blakely standing there in her flowy pink dress with her hair cascading over her shoulder and her fair skin on display. And when I got close to her to clasp that necklace around her neck, my mind quickly gallivanted into inappropriate territory. A reckless part of me wondered what it would take to make a girl like her wet. I wondered what it would be like to make her come all over my hands, all over my tongue, all over my cock.

  I try to put a stop to the thoughts but damn, I want her. My erection won’t let the subject go.

  This is fucked up.

  I throw open the freezer and stick my head inside to cool the hell off. The cold air billows into my f
ace, chilling my cheeks. Calm down, buddy.

  Since my head is in there anyway, I decide to grab a frozen pizza. I rip it out of its packaging and slide it into the oven. I try to move my attention to something other than how badly I want to bang my roommate but it’s no use. My cock is as hard as titanium. She’s at a wedding right now. Probably meeting tons of single douchebags trying to get their dicks wet the moment they lay their eyes on her. And here I am pining over her like some fool.