Page 6 of My Irish Roommate

I didn’t become a world champion by taking things slow. I didn’t become a successful businessman by letting things marinate. No, in this life, you seize opportunities. She may think she wants to take things slowly, but she doesn’t know how I operate. I’ll convince her that this is too good to save for later.

Without thinking, I slip my hand into my shorts and stroke my aching organ. I watch Ricki as I fist my throbbing cock, almost hoping that she’ll open her eyes and see what she’s done to me. I want her to see what I have in store for her, but she doesn’t stir. She falls asleep while I pleasure myself. I don’t even attempt to stifle the sounds that erupt from my throat when I eventually explode.

The sound of her breathing is like a soft lullaby, and I close my eyes, imagining what it would be like to truly have her. I picture what it would be like to be inside her. These are the thoughts that I fall asleep to, and I don’t expect that tomorrow night will be any different.

4

MORNING TRAINING

RICKI

The sun rises and I jump out of bed excited to begin my training. As Rowan sleeps, I think about what happened between us last night. He made it clear he’s attracted to me, and I can’t deny that I feel the same way about him.

His kiss both shocked and aroused me, but as much as I would have liked it to turn into a full-on makeout session, I have to be careful. I don’t want to mess up my current living situation by jumping into something too quickly. I mean, what if it didn’t work out and he couldn’t stand the sight of me? Where would I live? No, in this case, slow is better even if it is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

I put on a pair of shorts and a sports bra and lace up my shoes. He’s still sleeping and I begin to pace the floor. I don’t know what time he gets up, and I wonder if all the wine last night has him sleeping off a hangover. If he isn’t going to train me today, I can at least get in a work out so I sneak out the door and slip downstairs.

The gym is packed with sweaty men. I scan the place for another woman, but it seems that I’m the only female in the building. I almost throw in the towel and head back up the stairs, but then, I remind myself that I live here.

I have every right to work out here. I decide to start with some cardio and hop on the nearest elliptical machine. My presence begins to draw attention, and I start to feel eyes on me. I shrug it off and try to keep my attention on the television monitor on the wall.

A man walks between my machine and the monitor and yells to the employee who is mopping the floor, “Hey Glenn. When did Rowan start letting women buy memberships?” He turns and looks me up and down.

“She’s not a member. She’s the boss' sister,” I hear the word and cringe. “Best leave her be.”

The man throws his hand up and says, “You’re Rowan’s sister?”

“Not really. My mother just married his father,” I pant as I continue my workout.

“Stepsister? And American to boot,” he smiles. “What brings you to Dublin?”

“My mother lives in Ireland now,” I reply.

“Well, my name’s Daniel. Anytime you want a tour of the city, you just let me know. I’d be happy to show you around,” he tells me.

“Thank you but I have Rowan for that,” I say between labored breaths.

“I didn’t mean like that. I meant like a date, you know?” he smiles.

“She knows and the answer is still no,” Rowan steps in from the side of the machine where he’s been watching the entire exchange. He flips the switch, turns off my machine, and adds, “Now bug all the way off. She has work to do.”

“Yeah, sorry, Rowan. I was just trying to be nice,” the man says and scuttles away.

“Nice? No. He was trying to get laid,” Rowan mumbles. He shoots me a disgusted glare and says, “Are you ready to train or what?”

“I was ready an hour ago, sleepy head,” I reply.

“Then get your ass off this machine and let’s go,” he takes the towel from around his neck and snaps it against my butt.

“Is your head okay? You should hydrate after all the drinking you did,” I tell him.

He stops dead in his tracks and says, “I wasn’t drunk and I’m not hungover. Stop trying to make excuses. I’m gonna work you harder than you’ve ever worked in your life. You’re gonna beg me for mercy.”

“Is that a promise?” I quip.

“Yes, it is,” he answers. He leads me into a small room and flicks on the lights. The walls and floor of the room are padded except for one section of the wall that acts as a window out into the rest of the gym.

“You need headgear and some gloves,” he tells me, tossing the items at my feet.

---