Page 7 of The Roommate (One Night #1)

“I wrap my hands around your neck You love it when I always squeeze”

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.” His voice is far too cheerful for this ungodly hour, laced with that antagonizing amusement that makes me want to strangle him.

“Whatever you want, I will burn it anyway. So, go away.” I mumble, my voice muffled under the blanket.

It is too early for me to process anything. I usually wake up at six, but today is Saturday and anything before eight a.m. is a violation of basic human rights. I pull the blanket higher, and try to go back to sleep—or at least pretend to—before he yanks it off me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snap, glaring up at him. “Are you really having a death wish right now?”

He laughs. Of course, everything is so hilarious to him that it’s frustrating.

“Death by hurt-no-fly Edaline? Now that’s a headline I’d pay to see. But no. Michelle called everyone in twenty…nineteen minutes now.” He shoves his phone in my face, the light of the screen glaring back at me.

“But why—” My sleep-addled brain catches up. The uni tour . Right. Shit . I’d forgotten.

I rub my eyes, shaking off the grogginess, and scramble out of the bed—and trip over my own damn feet.

A strong arm locks around my waist before I face plant on the floor. My back flush against his chest. I think I cannot breathe. Yup, definitely not.

“You’re welcome.” He murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. Goosebumps erupt across my skin.

I drive my elbow into his ribs. Hard.

He grunts, but doesn’t release me. “And here I thought you’d be grateful.”

“I’d be more grateful when you stop touching me.”

His grip tightens instead, as my breath hitches, making him pull me closer to him.

Something presses on my back. Something hard and like a…o h God…

My eyes blow wide, even though he can’t see me. My back arches on its own accord, brushing my ass against his…thing.

Oh holy no.

“Liar.” His voice a dark, velvet scrape against my ear. “If you really wanted me to let go, you wouldn’t have arched into me like that.”

My face burns. “I did not—”

“You did.” His thumb brushes the bare strip of skin where my shirt has ridden up, and my stomach clenches. “Twice.”

My skin burns where his skin touches mine. I twist in his hold, but he doesn’t budge—just cages me harder against him, until there’s not an inch between my back and his solid chest. I stare at the wall in front of me, having zero courage to face him when I’m burning red.

“Go to hell.”

“Why would I need to when you’re right here?”

I slam my elbow back again, but this time he catches it, his other arm banding around my ribs, locking me in place. His lips graze the shell of my ear. “Try harder, sweetheart.”

My pulse thunders, traitorous and loud. “I hate you.”

“Mm.” His nose skims the side of my neck, inhaling like he wants to drown in the scent of my body wash. “Say it again. Maybe this time I’ll believe you.”

“Asshole.”

He chuckles, the vibration rumbling through me. “There she is.” He takes a pause before continuing, “All you have to say is fuck me , and you’ll get what you want.”

“I want you to let me go and stay at least ten feet away from me.”

“Now, now. Aren’t you a little liar? Didn’t anyone teach you that good girls don’t lie?”

A thrill runs down my spine at his words. The heat of him sears through my thin sleep shirt, branding me in ways I refuse to acknowledge.

Damn him.

“Say it.”

I tilt my head just enough to glare over my shoulder, meeting those wicked, knowing eyes. “If you think I’m going to beg, you’re delusional.”

His smirk is slow—the kind that promises sin. “Who said anything about begging, little liar? Though I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

The hard length of him presses into my back, and my breath catches. Again.

“See? Your body’s already calling bullshit on that lie.”

I grit my teeth, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he drags his lips along the curve of my ear, “You’re still here, pressed against me like you want to be.”

I don’t. I don’t.

But my traitorous hips shift back, just slightly, and he groans of pure satisfaction.

“Fuck,” he growls, his hand sliding down to grip my thigh, hitching it up against him.

My laugh is breathless, taunting. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle losing?”

I feel my underwear drenching minute by minute, as I slowly lose myself in his touch.

His teeth graze my neck, sharp and punishing. “Oh, sweetheart, I always win.”

“Too bad that you’re already losing. Can’t not touch me, can you?”

“How can I resist when you respond to my touch like that? One would say it’s you who wants to give in so fucking bad. It’s you who is losing.”

His hand tightens on my thigh. Each cell of my body is begging me to say those stupid words, to take the loss and get the pleasure. I need him to touch a little higher, to push his hands deeper into—

A loud knock startles us, again, making us freeze.

“Eda! It’s time to go. Where are you?” Hana shouts from the other side of the door.

“Yeah. Give me a few.” I shout back, and jam my elbow in his ribs. A-goddamn-gain. Either I’m super weak, or he is super strong who doesn’t care about his bruising skin.

He sighs, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench free. But before I can escape, he catches my wrist, yanking me back until our faces are inches apart. “This isn’t over.”

“It just started.”

“Exactly.”

Then he releases me and saunters out, leaving me standing there, flushed and furious—and Jesus help me, wanting more.

But I can’t. I can’t lose to him.