Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,44

to disturb him, only realizing now that at some point she had crawled under the covers.

She met a pair of sleepy, come-to-Mama blue eyes. Her roomie was awake.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi yourself. How do you feel?”

“A little groggy, like I’m hungover though I haven’t touched a drop. Definitely better than before.” His hand had remained in position, though now it was flat against her back, like it never wanted to leave. “You stayed with me.”

“I had to make sure you were okay. Sorry if I came off as intrusive.”

“You didn’t. You have a soothing touch. I think you’ve missed your calling.” He moved his hand from her back—and she almost moved it back, it was that comfortable—and pushed her hair from her eyes. “Sorry about before, touching you. It’s been a while since I’ve been this close to anyone. My body can’t help it.” He withdrew his touch, appearing to second-guess any discussion of his seeking hand or errant erection. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all. If it helps you sleep better.”

His brow furrowed. “You mean you’d cuddle up with me for sleep quality reasons?”

“I—I liked it. I guess I miss that affection. It’s been a while.” So much for Ms. Independence.

His hand curled around her neck and she bit back another moan.“Why has it been a while?”

“It’s hard to separate it from sex. Sometimes you want sex, but other times, you just want to be touched.”

“And what do you want right now, Kennedy?”

So many things. But to ask was to place him in danger of crossing the lines he needed to remain for his season goals.

“It’s okay. I can’t expect you to—”

“Just tell me.” He moved closer, his mouth mere inches away, his breath fanning her lips. “You helped soothe my head. Maybe I can return the favor.”

That favor would make her body combust.

Her lips parted, her tongue darted out. It might have looked manipulative or teasing, which was not her intention. She just wanted to make out with the guy.

Instead she said something far more shocking. “To be held.”

“I can do that. Come closer.” No hesitation, not even enough to create an awkward pause.

Deciding for once not to second guess her instincts around Reid, she moved into the soft cage of his embrace, her head in the crook of his neck. His lips brushed her temple and her entire body trembled with pleasure.

“You okay?’ His breath was a hot puff of sensation against her hair.

She moved her head slightly, angling back up to look at him. “Not sure.”

“Not comfortable?”

She wouldn’t say that, only she was caught between tenderness and lust, the worst place on Planet Kennedy. What had she been thinking? Maybe that holding her would be less awkward for him and his celibate self rather than how this would truly work in practice. Now she was realizing that she didn’t need—or want—tenderness.

She wanted those perfect, firm, forbidding lips.

She wanted his hands on her body, his chest smashing her breasts, his cock driving inside her. But she would bargain with what was possible. Baby steps.

Tentatively, she stroked his bottom lip with her thumb. He gripped her wrist and pulled it away.

She had gone too far.

In the velvet shadows, she saw his blue eyes dim, darken, smolder. He raised her wrist to his lips and dropped a gentle kiss there.

It was the most erotic thing to ever happen to her.

He continued in this vein, his eyes never leaving hers, his lips exploring the soft skin at her wrist, exciting the pulse point and setting every other part of her on fire. Sensuality and tenderness in one devastating package.

“Reid.” His name sounded savage on her lips, a desperate plea for him to stop or escalate. One of those two things had to happen, anything to counteract the maddening sensation of … not enough.

Something between a groan and a growl emerged from his throat before his mouth met hers. After their conversation—so gentle, so quiet, so reasonable—she would have expected more of a tease. But not Reid. He was all in. He held her jaw and moved his lips expertly over hers.

The kiss blew up.

A complete and utter exploration, his tongue twining, seeking, undoing. It was the kind of kiss she would dream about if she dreamed of such things. She’d given up on romantic fantasies long ago. Instead, she usually took what she wanted when it came to men, skipping the build-up because she needed immediate gratification.

Attachment is the root of all suffering, so said the Buddha. Letting herself stay still,