Page 4 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
Something undeniable.
We slip out through the double doors at the back of the kitchen, and the night hits us like a slap in the face. It’s pouring rain, fuckingpouring, the kind of hot and heavy drops that only come from a Louisiana summer sky. The alley is empty, surprisingly clean, and lit only by a single flickering lamp by the back door.
But there’s plenty of light to see the way the rain plasters Makena’s dress to her skin as she steps out into the downpour.The way it makes that peach silk so transparent, I can instantly make out the outline of her nipples beneath the fabric.
Christ, she’s sexy as fuck, so hot I have to work to rip my gaze back to her face when she finally says, “I’m so mad at you. So,somad,” she adds, raising her voice to be heard over the rain spanking the pavement.
I blink. “Wait, what? Why?”
“Because you live rent-free in my head,” she says, the longing in her eyes taking the sting out of the words. “Seven and a half months, Parker. Seven and a half months, and Istillcan’t stop thinking about your stupid lips and your stupid face and the way you looked at me like I’ve always wanted someone to?—”
I cut her off with a kiss.
Hey, it worked the first time, and I can’t fucking help it. She’s wet and she wants me, and is so damned sexy, I can hardly stand it.
When my mouth finds hers, she makes a sound—half shocked gasp, half groan of relief—that shoots straight through me.
Because I feel the same fucking way.
There’s never been a connection like this for me.
No woman has ever made me rock hard with a single touch, made me dream about her for months, made me ache for her like I ache for simpler times and easier roads and a point in my life when my family resembled a sitcom more than a late-night drama.
And no, looking back, I never had atrulyhappy home. My parents’ love was always a lie. But this isn’t. This is real, the first completely real thing I’ve ever felt with a woman.
I want her so bad it’s almost scary.
We stumble backward, her hands fisting in my soaked dress shirt, clawing for my skin. My back hits the stone wall of thehotel hard enough to knock the breath out of me, but we don’t stop kissing.
I stroke my tongue harder, deeper, as she matches me, challenges me, dances with me.
Fuck, we’re good at dancing.
We’re going to be good at fucking, too. There’s no doubt in my mind.
My hand finds her thigh through the slit in her dress, her bare skin hot despite the rain. I grip her there, jerking her leg up around my hip, and we groan.
She rocks against my thigh, both of us shuddering as her pussy grinds into my erection, and I wish for the superpower to make fabric evaporate with everything in me.
“I hate this,” she says, but her lips are already on mine again, desperate, hungry.
“No, you don’t.” I slide my hand higher on her thigh, fingers creeping beneath the elastic of her panties. “You need this. You need it as much as I do.”
She bites my bottom lip hard enough to sting, then soothes it with her tongue. I tangle my other hand in her soaked curls, and fuck, they’re still so soft. As soft as her lips and her tits against my chest.
She’s going to be so soft and slick and hot around me.
Just thinking about it has me so hard it hurts.
“We should stop,” she gasps, even as she opens the buttons of my shirt like she can’t get to my skin fast enough.
“Probably,” I agree, kissing down her throat.
Neither of us stops or slows for a second, though. If anything, things only get more frantic. I palm her breast through the wet fabric of her dress, then jerk it down, baring her nipple to me, the night, the rain.
She makes a genuinely startled sound, and suddenly we both seem to realize that we’re on the verge of something we can’t take back.
She freezes.
