Page 2 of My Irish Roommate

“You don’t have to ask to use the shower. This is your place too, now,” I tell her and point her in the direction of the bathroom.

She collects some things from her bag and heads to the shower. Alone with my thoughts, my mind races trying to make sense of all of the feelings that are rushing through my body. What started as frustration about being inconvenienced in my own home turned into an absolute obsession with this beautiful, young woman.

Now, I’m overwhelmed with a sense of guilt over the lustful thoughts that I’m having about my stepsister. I tell myself that I’m not some hormonal teenager and as a man of forty, I should be able to control myself. I resign myself to behave in an appropriate and brotherly manner for the time that she spends living here. After all, it’s the right thing to do.

I nod my head as if to further demonstrate my resignation and then scroll through my phone to amuse myself while I wait for her to get ready, trying not to think about her delicious body under the shower. Water running down her body, her curves.

Damn it to hell, Rowan.

The sound of running water stops and the doorknob turns. I look up from my phone as Ricki walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. I look at her and my previous decision to treat her as a sister flies right out the window.

She walks to the corner of the room and bends down to pick up her suitcase. Her towel slides down, showing more than just a hint of cleavage, and I nearly break my neck as I silently beg to see more.

I don’t think I can handle this perpetual hard-on for the indefinite amount of time that she’ll be living here. Hell, I won’t even be able to jerk off in my bed without her seeing. I see her struggling between holding up her towel and picking up her heavy bag, so I adjust my pants and walk over to assist her. She jumps a little when I place my hand on her back but doesn’t move away.

“Let me get that for you,” I say and she spins around and looks up into my eyes. This is the time when I should grab her waist and pull her into a long, deep kiss but I know that I shouldn’t. She steps aside, and I pick up the suitcase and drop it on the bed for her.

Blood is roaring in my ears and I know we should leave before my wafer-thin control snaps.

“Thank you. I didn’t even think to bring my clothes in the bathroom with me,” she smiles and I think I see a hint of deviousness in her eyes.

Huh. Could it be that this innocent-looking girl is flirting with me? No, it can’t be, so I shake it off and move back to the sofa to observe her as she retrieves a lacy pink bra, matching panties, and a green sundress from her bag.

I shouldn’t even be staring. I should look away. That’s what any decent man—no, stepbrother—would do. I can’t, though. My eyes are glued to her as if my body has gone rogue.

But I have to admit. It would be nice if she would just drop the towel and get dressed right here, but she walks back to the bathroom and closes the door.

Alone again, I reconsider my options and decide to play things as cool and casually as I can for as long as I can, but I find it unlikely that my attraction to her is going to fade.

Fuck. I’m in trouble.

2

MEETING MY STEPBROTHER

RICKI

When my mother suggested that I come to Ireland and room with my forty-year-old stepbrother, I assumed that I would be meeting a balding old man with a pot belly. Imagine my surprise when a tall, dark, Adonis of a man opened the door when I knocked.

He gazed at me with his sultry green eyes, and my pulse rate shot up like it had when I finished the Boston Marathon in two hours and ten minutes. If that wasn’t bad enough, he tells me we’ll basically be sharing one room and a bath. I guess that means he’s going to hear my moaning when I undoubtedly dream about him at night.

He’s nice but shocked because my mother never told him that I was a girl. I hope it doesn’t bother him too much because I really need to be here. I’m not one to lay my problems out to people that I’ve just met, so he doesn’t know just how desperate I am.

I can’t go back to Boston, and I can’t afford to live here on my own either. It took every penny that I could scrape together from selling my belongings just to afford the plane ticket to get here.

I step out of the shower and realize that I didn’t bring my clothes into the bathroom with me. I’m so used to living alone and prancing from the shower to the bedroom naked that it just didn’t occur to me that this man might not be comfortable seeing me wrapped in a towel.

For a split second, I think I see something in the way he looks at me. His gaze makes butterflies dance in my stomach. There are moments that are so real, so authentic when two people have their guard down and can see right through to the other person’s soul. It’s crazy but that’s what this moment feels like.

He comes to help me with my bag and puts his hand on my bare back. My heart practically leaps out of my chest as some sort of primal desire overwhelms me.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. I can’t spend the next few months lusting over my older stepbrother. I mean, is that any healthier than what I left behind? No, I have to get myself together. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to know him and find out that he’s a total jerk. Nothing makes a man less attractive than a crappy personality.

I slip back into the bathroom and dress for our dinner with my mom and his dad. I dress quickly because I’m excited to take a tour of the gym facilities before we leave. I want to start training tomorrow. The sooner I learn to defend myself the safer I will feel.

Rowan opens the door for me and takes me by the arm as we walk down the stairs to the gym below. I don’t know what the customs are like here so the men in Ireland may just be more chivalrous than I’m used to, but I’d like to think he’s doing it because he’s attracted to me. A girl can dream, right?

Several muscle-bound men are working out on the machines but none of them compare to my new stepbrother. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him on the cover of a magazine, and as we turn the corner, I do. In fact, he’s on the covers of seven magazines that have been framed and hung on the gym wall.

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