Page 60 of My Brother's Roommate (Frisky Business 2)
“I love you, Penelope,” he whispers, his eyes unwaveringly trained on mine.
“I love you too, Wolfie.”
And then he sinks into me, every inch of him, claiming what’s his. Tonight, tomorrow, forever.
My breath stills for a moment, then pours out of me in a low moan of pleasure. Holy shit, he feels incredible.
My back bows as I chase his thrusts with my own, and he drives deeper and deeper, bringing me more and more bliss. I can feel myself getting close again, inching toward my edge, and by the way his jaw clenches, I know I’m not the only one.
“Gonna come soon,” he warns on a low growl.
“Mm-hmm. Me too, baby.”
The words have hardly left my lips when the heat takes over, pulsing through me in white-hot waves. I’m still riding my high when I feel him release, giving a few final thrusts into me before collapsing in a heap at my side, our desperate lungs competing to suck the oxygen out of the room.
“Fuck, Penelope.” Wolfie pants out the words, pressing the softest, sweetest kiss against my temple. “You’re perfect, you know that?”
But I don’t respond. I’m too busy curling into him, resting my head on his chest, listening to the whooshing thump of his heartbeat. And soon I’m slipping into an easy, blissful sleep.In the morning, I squint awake to the sun reflecting off a layer of freshly fallen snow and directly into my eyes.
I pull my covers over my head, temporarily confused as to why this is a problem for the first time ever. The sun never wakes me in the morning. I sleep on the side of the bed farthest from the window for that very reason.
And then it all starts coming back to me.
Why am I on this side of the bed? Because last night, I sacrificed my usual side of the mattress for a man who I’m pretty sure I can now officially refer to as my boyfriend. Waking up with the sun is a very small price to pay for an evening of multiple earth-shattering orgasms and all-night spooning.
Worth it? Duh.
I shake off my sleepy haze with a yawn, silently praying that my bedmate is already awake too. I wouldn’t mind a few sleepy kisses that might lead to something more. Sort of a redo of our morning at the lake house, minus the part where my brother barged in.
But then I roll over, and instead of finding a sleepy Wolfie next to me, there’s only the rumpled, empty sheets still barely holding his warmth.
My heart squeezes like a stress ball in my chest, a combination of confusion and heartache falling over me like a heavy fog. He left? Even after he promised that he wouldn’t run away again?
I groan as I turn onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow to hide from this horrible reality.
Stupid, Penelope. Did I really think he meant it this time?
Before I can fall too deep into my pity party, a whiff of something bitter hits my nose, even through the buffer of my pillow.
Is that . . . coffee? It can’t be.
I perk up a bit, giving the air another sniff.
Yep. That is definitely coffee.
A second later, the crackle of bacon popping in a pan echoes down the hall. Relief courses through my veins, and I heave out a full-body sigh.
Thank God. Not only is Wolfie still here, but he’s put himself to work in the kitchen. I guess miracles do happen sometimes.
Slipping out from beneath the sheets, I find last night’s clothes, which we so sloppily discarded on my bedroom floor in the heat of the moment. Both my sweatshirt and my pajama pants have to be flipped right side out again, and after a minute or two of searching beneath the bed, I officially have no clue what happened to my slipper socks. I pull a fresh pair from my dresser, sliding them onto my feet before padding out to the kitchen.
There, I’m greeted by a shirtless Wolfie, his muscular back turned to me as he adjusts the burners on the stove like a well-practiced DJ. Except instead of cooking up club beats, he’s making bacon and eggs. Which, in my opinion, is a zillion times better.
“Good morning,” I murmur sleepily, wrapping my arms around his trim waist and resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. Even when we’re standing up, this man makes the best human pillow ever.
“Mmm, morning, cutie.” His back muscles flex as he slides a perfectly fried egg onto a plate and then turns to give me a hug. “Sorry for raiding your fridge.”
“No apologies necessary, as long as you’re sharing.”
His laugh rumbles through him, low and gritty. I can feel it buzzing against my cheek. “Of course. I’ll be done cooking in a minute, if you want to pour yourself some coffee.” He tips his head toward the coffeepot, where there are already two mugs waiting for us on the counter.
