Page 9 of The Roommate (One Night #1)

“All wrapped in one He was so many sins”

It’s been nearly an hour since we got back and the shower is still running.

He’s either trying to drown himself or he’s doing this on purpose—sucking up all the hot water. I need to shower too and get started on my work.

I’m already too worked up because of him. Both the interactions with him in the past twelve hours has left me and my nerves all agitated, edgy and explosive.

God . What was I even thinking? Trying to make him admit it first? I don’t even know how to play this game. But I don’t want to lose either, and I’m not sure how long I can hold up when all he is, is a promise of fulfilling my fantasies.

He exudes raw power who knows exactly who he is and what he is capable of, and doesn’t do exaggerations.

I storm toward the bathroom; my fist raised to pound on the door—

It swings open before I can strike.

I almost run into his very naked chest glistening with water droplets. He’s only in sweatpants that’s hanging low on his hips. His hair wet, dark, falling over his forehead.

I freeze mid-step.

Take a breath, Eda. Just take a deep breath. It’s just a human body…even if it’s the most beautiful one you have ever seen.

My cheeks burn.

His lips curl into that stupid smirk, the one that makes my blood boil—and my body betrays me.

“You took an hour…” My voice comes out softer than I intended. With the heat pooling in my lower belly, I don’t dare to speak any further.

“Why? Miss me already, Blueberry?” His grin widens, exuding smugness at the reactions I’m unable to control. That stupid nickname sends a shiver down my body.

I force my gaze to stay locked on his face despite the ache building between my thighs forcing me to get more of his sinful body.

I take another deep breath and his scent washes over me.

Then it hits me.

The smell.

Not like his usual cinnamon, but more like…coconut and sea.

More like mine .

“You didn’t,” I trail off, my jaw dropping in shock.

“Didn’t what?” He asks, feigning innocence as he casually leans against the door frame.

What in the actual hell?

“You used my body wash.” My voice deadly quiet as I jab my finger into his rock-hard chest. Fire, red-hot lava, burns me from inside.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Yours smelled nice. Like coconut and…”

“Aiden—”

“Wait.” He lifts one finger to stop me, then dabs it on his chin as if in deep thought. After a long moment, he finally says, “Yes. Like coconut and beaches. That salty fresh water.” He grins.

“It’s mine . Use your own cheap, disgusting garbage you call soap.”

He catches my wrist before I can pull away, my skin feels like it’s on fire where he touches me. “But yours is so cozy. Makes me feel fancy too.”

“Oh, I’m so glad my body wash is elevating your asshole-ish lifestyle. But newsflash: I don’t buy it for you. ” I’m shouting now, even though it is having zero effects on him.

It took a portion of my savings to buy my favorite body wash.

I want to bloody scream . Why, God? Why? Don’t I pray enough to you?

He steps closer, his smirk widening. “Oh no, the princess is upset. What’s next? Gonna threaten to kill me again?”

He’s close.

Too close.

Too much.

The scent of my own body wash on his skin is dizzying, possessive in a way I don’t want to examine.

“You’re insufferable.”

His thumb brushes over my racing pulse. The air between us crackles, thick with something dangerous. Something I refuse to name.

I yank my hand free but the firmness of his grip only makes me fall back on his chest.

I hate how he always manages to get under my skin, how his stupid smirk makes my stomach twist in a way I refuse to acknowledge.

His hand slides around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The feel of his bare chest against me is short-circuiting my brain.

He leans in.

His lips so close to mine that my heart stops.

He is going to kiss me.

Except Aiden Lennox doesn’t kiss. He devours .

I think I can’t breathe.

“All you have to do is say the words, Blueberry.”

I can’t bloody focus.

“Say it. You want me and I’ll be yours.” He repeats my words from before.

“I hate you. I don’t want you.” Partially a lie.

His fingers tighten around my waist, pressing me harder against him, letting me feel every hard plane of his body. The heat of his skin sears through my clothes, branding me in ways I’ll never admit out loud.

“Good girls don’t lie, Blueberry.” His voice is a rough caress, laced with amusement and something darker—something that makes my stomach clench.

“The only thing I want is for you to stop touching me,” Not really. “And never use my body wash again.”

His laugh is low, sinful, vibrating through me. “You’re cute when you’re pissed.”

“I’m not cute—”

He freaking bites my ear.

His teeth graze the shell of my ear, sharp and deliberate, sending a shock wave of sensation straight down my spine. A gasp escapes me before I can shut it, and his chuckle vibrates against my skin, smug and knowing.

Asshole .

I shove against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. His grip is iron, his body an immovable wall of muscle and heat. His scent —my scent—wraps around me, taunting, possessive, like he’s marked himself in my territory just to spite me.

“Let. Go.” I grit out, my voice trembling despite my fury.

Aiden doesn’t listen. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers dig into my waist, pulling me impossibly closer until I can feel the hard proof of his arousal against my stomach. My breath hitches as a pulse of liquid heat pools between my thighs.

No. Nope. No way. Oh hell—

His lips brush the sensitive spot beneath my ear, “Tell me you don’t want this, Eda. Tell me you don’t fucking ache for it, and I’ll walk away. Let’s end this game once and for all.”

Liar.

He’d never walk away. Not when he thrives on this—on the push and pull, on the way my body reacts to him despite my protests.

I swallow hard, forcing steel into my voice. “Why don’t you say it, if you want to end this so bad? I don’t want you.”

He laughs against my throat. “You’re such a terrible liar, Blueberry.”

Before I can retort, his hand slides up my back, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging just enough to make my scalp sting. My lips part on a silent gasp, and his gaze drops to my mouth, hungry and predatory.

For another heart-stopping second, I think he will finally kiss me.

End this stupid game.

I think I want him to.

But Aiden doesn’t give me what I want.

He gives me what he wants.

With one last lingering bite on my earlobe—just hard enough to make me whimper—he releases me abruptly, stepping back with that infuriating smirk. Cold air rushes between us, and I nearly sway forward, my body protesting the loss of his heat.

He pushes past me like he hasn’t just set every nerve in my body on fire.

I run inside the bathroom and shut the damn door. I lean against it, fists clenched, pulse erratic, torn between the urge to scream or chase after him and finish what he started.

God, I hate him so freaking much.

But the worst part?

I hate how much hating him doesn’t change the fact how much I want him.