Page 29 of Necessary Roughness

Sloane

I quickly tidied up my room, hiding my dirty laundry hamper in the closet and then covering it with a pair of sweatpants. I barely had enough time to brush my teeth before he texted me to let me know he was at the door.

“You came quick,” I whispered while letting him in.

“I’m a gentleman, so I won’t make a dirty joke about that.” He grinned and ran a hand through his sun-kissed brown hair. “It was a quick drive. The slowest part was sneaking out.”

I led him back to my bedroom and said, “I didn’t get a chance to put on my sexy underwear…”

The moment the door was closed, he tilted my chin up and gave me a slow, passionate kiss. “That’s all right. It wasn’t going to stay on you very long anyway.”

I grinned up at him.

We kissed our way back to the bed, collapsing weightlessly onto the sheets.

Logan planted an arm next to my head to keep from crushing me as we made out, then slowly sank between my legs, giving a little more of himself to me with every lash of his tongue.

I spread my thighs, welcoming him in, appreciating the pressure of his heft against my sex.

Logan was strong, and sturdy, and the only thing in the world that mattered.

Despite his promise to tear off my clothes and fuck me until neither of us could breathe, Logan was tender with his kisses and soft with his hands.

I savored the passionate way he explored my body, like we had all the time in the world and nothing to prove.

I was sopping wet and whimpering with need when he finally stripped my clothes off.

I sat upright and pulled his shirt over his head, then set out to kiss every inch of his broad, muscular chest. His skin was hot to the touch, and I imagined it was all the blood flowing to his muscles every time they flexed.

Then he was cupping my ass and pushing me onto my back, once again sinking into me. His cock was stiff and warm, the underside ground against my clit and pubic hair, rubbing back and forth in a way that excited and infuriated me.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me,” I said, biting my lip.

“I do,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around my thigh and holding it against his ribs. “But I also want to make slow, sweet, aching love to you.”

Only then did he back off a few inches, allowing his crown to slide past my clit and down into my soft lips. He groaned, a rumble in his throat as he shifted his weight from one arm to the other, grabbing my ass for leverage and then sliding in like he belonged there.

I sighed and gasped and moaned as he slowly made love to me. I wanted to remind him that he had a game tomorrow, that every minute we wasted was a minute stolen from his sleep, but it certainly didn’t feel wasted while he drove into me, his body undulating like a wave.

It was the opposite of the hard, fast, desperate sex Knox and I’d had in the classroom, yet somehow equal in its perfectness.

I spread my legs and arched my back, allowing him to thrust even deeper into me, hitting every nerve as I clamped myself around his girth, desperately hoping it felt as good for him as it did for me.

My wish was granted soon after when Logan’s breath drew shallow, his motions just slightly more fervent.

He quickened his pace, and I moaned along with him and ran my hands over his back, feeling the broad muscles contracting while he made love to me the same way they contracted when he reached up to pluck a football pass out of the air, and as we both came together I wondered which caused a greater sense of pleasure—an orgasm or a touchdown pass.

He stayed inside me, shuddering and spasming for a while. I wrapped all my limbs around him, clinging to him like some sort of parasite that never wanted to feel the emptiness that would come as he withdrew, and he kissed me with enough passion and care that I forgot about all my other worries.

But he did withdraw, kissing a trail down my chest as he did so, pausing just above my mound and gazing up at me with a question in his eyes.

“No,” I whispered, pulling him alongside me. “I want to cuddle.”

“Mmm, I like cuddling.”

Neither of us spoke for a while. Nothing needed to be said; the moment was too perfect, and could only be diminished by words.

“You sticking around?” I finally asked.

He stretched his long, lean body like a cat. I didn’t bother hiding the way I admired him. “Just for a bit. I’m too comfy to move.”

I rolled my leg across his and rested my head in the crook of his arm. “I agree. You’re too comfy.”

“Mmm,” he rumbled, his hand coming up and gently caressing my back.

I fell asleep within seconds.

When I woke up, my bedside alarm said it was five-thirty. I rolled over and draped an arm across the bed. But instead of a muscular football player, my skin only touched bedsheets.

He’d left already.

Me: Snuck out without saying goodbye? Wow. I thought we were fuck-BUDDIES, not fuck-ACQUAINTANCES.

Logan: Sorry. I had to get home before the others woke up. In my defense, it was four in the morning, and I gave you a goodbye kiss on the forehead. It was extremely cute. You looked too peaceful to wake up.

Me: New rule: always say goodbye. Even if it’s the ass-crack of dawn.

Logan: You got it, gorgeous.

Me: Go kick ass today, handsome.

Logan: That’s the plan, sexy.

Me: I’ll be watching from the student section, beautiful.

Logan: …

Logan: Beautiful?

Me: I stand by my choice of adjective. You have a beautiful body.

Logan: Fuck yeah. This is all really good for my ego.

I drifted back to sleep, later waking up with my alarm, feeling happier than I had in a long time. Last night didn’t feel like two people honoring a physical agreement. It felt like it was more than that.

Rather than worrying me, it made me feel lighter than air as I went through my morning routine. I even hummed to myself while cooking an omelet for breakfast.

Morgan emerged from her bedroom as I was moving my omelet to a plate. “Morning. You want one? The pan is still hot, and I shredded too much cheese.”

My roommate walked to the kitchen slowly, like she was apprehensive about the omelet. “What happened last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“You had a visitor.”

“Yes, I did.” I aimed my spatula at her. “Logan Hunter. Who you’ll notice is on my list of approved guests.”

Morgan’s face was unreadable. “He came over late.”

“It wasn’t that late. So is that a no on the omelet?”

“You were loud.” She glanced down, as if embarrassed to look me in the eye. “I wasn’t able to sleep.”

I rolled my eyes and moved the pan to the sink, turning my back on her. “We were most certainly not loud. And the walls in this place are thick. It shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

The pause of silence was so long while I washed my pan that I started to wonder if she had slunk back into her room.

“Well, I knew what you were doing, and it kept me awake.”

I groaned and tossed the pan down into the sink, making a racket.

“Morgan, we’re going to be living together until next May.

So you need to understand that this isn’t just your apartment.

It’s mine, too, just as much as yours. I’ve been polite about the guest spreadsheet, but I’m under no obligation to tell you who comes and goes, or when.

It’s also not my responsibility to babysit what you think about at night.

So unless you want the next two semesters to be a huge pain in the ass, I suggest you start treating me like your roommate , and not like your tenant. ”

Morgan lifted her chin, muttered, “You’re being childish,” and then hurried back into her room.

“Right,” I said under my breath. “I’m the childish one.”

But it didn’t matter. Not even Morgan could ruin my mood today.