Page 19

Chapter 19

Jessie

I insisted on doing the dishes since Ben cooked. I wiped down the kitchen counters, but really, he’d been a surprisingly neat cook. I don’t know why I had such rock-bottom expectations of Ben. I really wasn’t being fair to him. He was nothing but nice to me, albeit a little bossy about it.

I grabbed my measuring tape from my sewing table, glancing at the new bed that indeed did carry a strong odor. I knocked at Mikey’s open bedroom door.

“Jockey?”

The en-suite bathroom door swung open, steam coming out around him. There was Ben, buck naked and rubbing a towel over his hair. Muscles. Glorious, corded muscles, miles of them stretched over his whole body. Veins. And, “Holy God!”

I screamed and flattened myself against the wall, covering my eyes. His dick. His actual dick. Was that soft ? I mean, I’d felt the thing pushing into my backside when we cuddled, but Jesus, was it really that big?

“Shit, my bad,” he said. “Need something, babe?”

“Babe?!” I shrieked. “You’re naked!”

“In my own room!”

“With the door open, Mikey!”

“Well, sorry, I’m not used to having a roommate yet.”

I sputtered. “I knocked! The door was open! You just came out of there like that!”

A waistband snapped. “There. I got on some pants. You happy?”

I stammered, unable to come up with anything to say.

“Jessie? Did you need something?”

My hands were still cemented over my eyes. Mikey’s footsteps came closer and his fingers closed around my wrists, pulling my hands off my face. I pinned myself against the wall behind me, gasping.

“Hey. Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

My face flamed. “It’s—it’s just your body. Bodies are fine. I’m sorry I barged in here.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m sorry I got you all flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” I breathed.

The measuring tape in my hand unrolled, dropping to the floor. Mikey didn’t take his eyes off my face. Our faces were just inches apart, and he still held my wrists. His voice was low and calm. “What do you call what you are, then?”

The humid warmth of his skin from the shower pulsed into my space, a manly bodywash smell surrounding me.

I found my words. “Surprised.”

He gave a little chuckle, a smirk playing on his lips. “Is that what you call it?”

Was he putting the moves on me? Worse, was I liking it? I had that same could-morph-into-a-puddle feeling that I had when he gave his little speech about fucking me in a coat closet.

My chest heaved as I forced a breath. “Yeah.”

His thumb passed over the inside of my wrist, and my stomach clenched. “I’m too used to letting it all out in locker rooms. I’ll do better.”

I flicked my eyebrows up. “At least a towel would help.”

The corner of his lips hooked upward. “You gonna measure me?”

My cheeks boiled anew thinking of that monstrous thing I’d just seen bouncing between his legs. Mikey gave a soft, raspy laugh and let go of me. “For the suit, Jess. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

My jaw flapped and I cleared my throat. “Yes. I need to get your measurements so I can make a drawing. Might help to see what your favorite suits look like, too.”

“You got it, hon.”

He took a step back and stood with his arms extended. I followed, wrapping the measuring tape around his bare pecs. I tried to ignore the way the sinew of his muscles was almost carved, the kind of figure you’d see in a textbook. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and marked down the number. I slipped the tape to his waist, sliding a finger between his skin and the tape for a little breathing room.

His breath coated my shoulder where he dipped his head to watch me. The hairs on the back of my neck rose and I fought a shiver. If he had put a hand on me right then, I would have thrown it all away. Been ready to beg him to throw me on the bed and have his way with me. When did I become such a perv? I was taking a non-sexual situation and making it sexual. It was just taking measurements! I had to gain control of the situation, for my own sake.

“Stand up straight, please. Do you gain or lose a lot during the season?”

“Usually my butt gets a little smaller over the summer, but gets big once I’m skating more again. It’s probably at its biggest about now. And I bloat when my stomach’s pissed off or I forget Lactaid.”

I puffed out my bottom lip. “That sucks.”

“It’s life. People have bigger problems.”

His hip measurement was indeed much larger than the actors I worked with, but I never comment on peoples’ bodies. We all have enough to deal with without comparison. I put the tape off-center so I wouldn’t have to make direct contact with an area of his body that would haunt me for the rest of my days. I was mortified that I’d seen him naked. It was just bad timing and not a big deal, but... ugh.

I knelt in front of him to get his inseam and outseam. These were measurements I took every day. No bother for me, right? We were silent. I picked up my phone to punch in the final measurements, staying on the floor. When I glanced up, Ben looked down at me with his hand out to help me up. My breathing quickened as I stood, chest to chest with him for the second time that night. We stared, locked in an uncomfortable battle of wills.

His eyes flicked over every part of my face. “I’ll show you the suits.”

* * *

My teeth were brushed. I’d taken my evening shower and done my hair so it would be easy to style in the morning. I’d laid out my clothes. It was just a matter of consciously getting in Ben’s bed. The other two times I’d ended up there, I’d gotten there by him carrying me in while I was asleep.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I stood by his bed, my book and blankie in hand. Yes, I was twenty-five and still carrying my childhood blanket. I have no shame about it. That thing is the most comfortable scrap of fabric that exists on this planet, and was my companion through countless sleepless nights.

“You don’t have to go to bed when I do, Ben,” I said. “I’m a shitty sleeper.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I can help.”

I closed my eyes, searching for patience on the inside of my eyelids. “Ben, I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but please don’t smother me. Go to bed when you normally would.”

“Well, if I want to drive you to work tomorrow, I should go to bed when you do,” he said.

I sighed, putting my head into my hands. “I can drive myself. As long as I sleep half-decently tonight, I should be fine.”

He pressed his lips together. “What if you have a nightmare?”

“Apologies in advance if I do, but it’s better if you don’t wake me up, okay? Just ignore it if you can.”

Ben’s eyes rounded and he seemed upset. “It’s so hard to see you like that.”

I pulled back the sheets and got in, draping my blankie around my neck and sliding on my glasses. “Sorry about that. Two more days, and then I’ll be in my own room, right? And if you need me to move out, I’ll start looking. You’ve already done too much.”

“I want you to stay,” Ben said. He said it so firmly. Resolutely. No questions asked. He wanted me to live with him. “Nice glasses.”

“Thanks?”

He snorted. “No, they look good on you. Hot librarian vibes.”

I glared at him. “Fine, pretty librarian vibes,” he said.

I guffawed. “I love that you think that’s better.”

“What’s up with the yarn wad?”

“What?”

He bent over and shook my blankie on my shoulder. “That’s my blankie. What did you call it?”

“Yarn Wad. I think it’s a good name. Because it’s a yarn wad.”

“Look, I don’t need your mockery,” I huffed, turning on my side away from him.

“Aw, come on, Jessie. I wouldn’t pick on you. I think it’s cute. But it is definitely deserving of the name Yarn Wad.”

“But did I ask for your opinion?” I bit out. “I have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.”

He blew right past my irritation. “What’s your plan with that book?”

I flipped over to face him, where he still sat on his side of the bed. “If you’d ever stop cajoling me, I’d fucking read it so I can go to sleep!”

“Okay, okay, geez,” he said, scooting off to the bathroom.

Okay, but one serious issue: my annoyingly persistent and eager and infuriatingly attractive roommate and all of his back-and-forth banter had me all kinds of tense. With no room of my own and very little private time for the next forty-eight hours, I had nowhere to manage that tension. He’d have heard me in the shower. Did I have enough time while he was in the bathroom getting ready for bed?

I just needed to take the edge off. The way he stood over me in the kitchen had me melting. His gentle touch when we danced together at Kitty’s party. How ridiculously good he looked naked. How he held my wrists against his wall. That tiny stroke of his thumb over the tender skin. How he licked his lip. He smelled so goddamn good and he got this look in his eyes like he’d just love to show me how it’s done. And “it” was mind-blowing sex.

I did not want to get involved with Ben. Yes, Cole and I were through, but I needed recovery time. And Ben was my roommate for Christ’s sake. And anyway, he was a player. I’d done my share of messing around before Cole, but I wasn’t thrilled with the thought of being with a love-em-leave-em kinda guy. I was already sleeping in his damn bed. I didn’t need to add anything more physical to the already tense equation.

Still, I was pretty sure if I just said the word, Ben would do any combination of fun and exciting acts with me. The thought had my hand drifting under the covers. His women did always sound satisfied. I wanted to be satisfied, so very, very badly. My hand moved faster as I let my mind explore what those strong hands would feel like on me, how hard he’d grab, whether he liked to be a little rough or more tender. My breathing hitched as my back arched. A tiny whimper escaped my throat. God, I needed release so bad it hurt.

The bathroom door slammed against the wall. That meant the bathroom door had already been open for a few seconds at that point. It was too fucking late. Ben was already in the bedroom.

I ripped my hand out of my shorts. Fuck, my fingers were wet. Jesus. That went far, fast. Fuck fuck fuck. I wiped them on my stomach and rubbed my shirt over it, because I wasn’t about to put them on his sheets.

“Oh. I, uh,” Ben’s face went beet red. “Sorry, I can, uh, give you some space.”

“It’s not what you think,” I squeaked. “I just—”

“Nope, nope, no problem. I’m gonna go, uh, watch TV,” he said, gesturing to the living room with his thumbs.

“No, it’s nothing. Um, come to bed?”

Ben stood in the doorway to the hall. He swallowed hard and held his hands over his crotch, not looking directly at me. “You’re right. I should let you get to sleep on your own. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

Mortified. Medically. Physically. Metaphysically. Mortified.