Page 16 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
Thirteen minutes to get dressed, find the lab, and somehow not look like a tornado survivor.
I scrambled through my suitcase, tossing clothes everywhere. Where was my professional first-day outfit? The one I’d carefully packed in my carry-on precisely to avoid this scenario?
I finally located my wrinkled blouse and slacks. No time to iron. No time to do anything but the absolute essentials.
I brushed my teeth while simultaneously trying to tame my hair, which had decided overnight to transform into something resembling a squirrel’s winter nest. The toothpaste dribbling down my chin completed the “competent scientist” look I was going for.
Four minutes later, I burst out of the guest room, research notes clutched to my chest, hair semi-contained in a messy bun, blouse buttoned unevenly. I sprinted down the hallway at full speed, mentally calculating the fastest route to campus.
And slammed directly into a wall of warm, wet muscle.
Not a wall. A chest. A very firm, very bare chest.
My papers exploded into the air like scientific confetti as I bounced off Stone’s torso and landed ungracefully on my butt. I looked up, mouth agape, as droplets of water slid down the ridges of his abs, disappearing into the towel wrapped precariously around his hips.
“Do you ever look where you’re going?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in what might have been amusement if it wasn’t buried under annoyance.
“I—you—shower,” I stammered eloquently, my brain short-circuiting at the proximity of so much bare skin. His body was a masterpiece of muscle and sinew, dotted with small scars that hinted at a career of physical battles.
“Observant,” he remarked dryly, extending a hand to help me up.
I took it, trying desperately to ignore the heat spreading through me like wildfire. The same heat that was currently making my thighs clench and my breath catch. This was ridiculous. I was a scientist, not some hormone-addled teenager.
“I’m late,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched. “First day. Lab. Fellowship.”
“Use complete sentences, Lab Bunny,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I don’t have time for complete sentences!” I dropped to my knees, gathering papers. “I have thirteen—no, wait—eight minutes to get to the lab before I completely torpedo my career!”
Stone bent down to help, his towel shifting dangerously. I averted my eyes. Mostly.
“Your buttons are wrong,” he pointed out, handing me a stack of notes.
I glanced down at my blouse and groaned. “Of course they are. Because the universe hates me today.”
“Here.” He reached out, his towel shifting lower on his hips as he moved closer.
My breath caught in my throat as his fingers brushed against my skin, deliberately unbuttoning the top of my blouse. His knuckles grazed the swell of my breasts, sending an electric current straight to my core. I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped my lips.
His eyes darted to mine, darkening visibly. The air between us suddenly felt charged, thick with tension. Water droplets clung to his collarbone, one sliding slowly down the defined ridges of his chest. I had the overwhelming urge to lean forward and catch it with my tongue.
“You’re supposed to start with the bottom button,” he explained, his voice rough as his fingers worked their way down my blouse. Each touch lingered a fraction longer than necessary. “Then they’ll align properly.”
His hands were so close to my breasts now that I could feel their heat through the thin fabric. My nipples hardened, embarrassingly visible through my blouse. Stone noticed—his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
“That’s...unusually helpful of you,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. I shifted slightly, my thighs pressing together to relieve the sudden ache between them.
“I’m a helpful guy.” His mouth curved into that almost-smile, but there was something predatory in his eyes now. His fingers finished with the last button and then, instead of pulling away, they trailed lightly back up, skimming the center of my body until they reached my collarbone.
His thumb brushed over my racing pulse point. “Your heart’s racing, Lab Bunny.”
“Wonder why,” I breathed, unable to look away from the intensity in his gaze.
For a moment, I thought he might close the distance between us. His towel had slipped dangerously low, revealing the sharp cut of muscle disappearing beneath the terry cloth. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the clean scent of his soap mixed with something uniquely male.
His hand moved from my collarbone to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip. I couldn’t help the small sound that escaped me—somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
“Careful,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on my mouth. “Or you’ll be late for more than just your first day.”
