Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,45

put down roots, try to mimic even for a moment what she once had with her long-gone family, was impossible. Because that’s what she would be doing: faking it. Trying to reclaim a sliver of joy from the past, then worrying every moment if it could last.

Instead, she lived in the now. Took what she needed and moved on.

This kiss was more than the lead-up to something. This was the main event. They could go no further, and even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t do that to him. He had his reasons and she would respect them.

Probably shouldn’t have started this, a voice said inside her head, or she insisted that was the voice’s location.

She pulled back, her eyes steeling open to meet his. “That was nice,” she murmured.

“Nice?” He smirked because she’d just made the understatement of the millennium.

“You’re a good kisser. What do you want, a medal?”

“A medal wouldn’t cut it. I want …” He leaned in. “More.”

Her entire body shuddered with bone-deep sensation. That was exactly how she felt. How she needed. It was so good to meet someone who felt the same way, even if it was a small moment of connection.

He gave it to her good, and this time, she responded with more hunger. His hand moved to her back and pulled her close, coasting down to her ass and squeezing.

Music: Making our Dreams Come True, Laverne & Shirley (in her head)

Mood: Horny

Mantra: I am here for you

This was a kiss that lingered, that teased, the ultimate foreplay. She moved in, angling for the weight of him but he maintained a rigid control. As if he had decided this would stay inside the lines.

Well, screw that.

She dipped a hand to his shoulder, needing to feel the heat of him through the fabric of his tee. Fluttering her fingertips over his collar bone, she placed the heel of her hand to his pec. Further down, a brush over a cotton-covered nipple.

Still the kiss went on, changing direction, his lips slanting and seeking more avenues to pleasure.

She rubbed against his nipple. He moaned into her mouth, and she cheered at finding a weak spot in a man so strong.

“Don’t you dare, roomie,” he murmured, moving his lips to her jaw.

“Dare what?”

“This goes no further.” He drew back, taking her wicked hand and placing it above the comforter.

“That’s enough for you?”

“It has to be.”

She touched his cheek, tracing a thumb over his cheekbone. “Such a tease.”

“We’ll agree to differ on how true that is. No more kissing, Kennedy. But if you need to be held, I’m available for that.”

Oh. He had her number. That moment of weakness in him had revealed a bigger weakness in her. She would need to be careful about that.

“I should go check on Bucky,” she said.

He didn’t respond, just watched her as she stole out of his room like a thief in the night.

17

Reid opened the front door and sent Bucky in ahead of him. It wasn’t as if he was lingering outside but Reid liked to be sure he was safe and warm. He hoped Kennedy was being careful, too. He would add it to the ever-growing list of things he needed to tell her.

Don’t leave your shampoo in my shower. It smells of you.

Don’t smile at me when I come home from practice. It makes me feel … weird.

Don’t give me that look—you know the one I mean—that tells me you’re still thinking about that kiss. We both know it was a mistake.

So it was the best kind of mistake, the kind that gave you immense pleasure in the moment even if you were filled with regret later. Like pounding an opposing player you hate—enjoyable at the time though you have to sit your ass in the sin bin after.

Now all he could think of was the pillowy softness of her body. How supple her lips had felt moving against his. How she gave it her all while he was trying desperately to rein it in. How sweet she tasted, unlike anyone or anything he could recall.

Consider his diet, all the fucking diets, blown.

Offering to hold her when she needed it was absolute shit-levels of stupidity. As if he could separate that from her taste and touch and scent. But in that moment he’d seen Kennedy’s need, the emotion she tried to cover with her independent streak.

Her most precious possession, indeed.

This morning he’d gone for a run, taking Bucky with him, and now he would share breakfast with Kennedy and